Savage North Chronicles Vol. 1
Date: 2020-07-20 07:00:00+00:00
Description: This gritty, post-apocalyptic collection includes 1,100 pages of heart-wrenching emotion and action-packed adventure. Volume One includes the first three installments: The Darkest Winter (Savage North Chronicles #1) The Virus spread... Billions died! The Ending began... A group of orphaned misfits... The wild lands of the last frontier... Superhuman abilities, harrowing adventures, and heartbreaking secrets... Elle... Haunting shadows are nothing new to Elle St. James, she’s been running from them all her life. But since the outbreak spread from the lower forty-eight, new monsters lurk in the

Savage North Chronicles

Books 1 - 3

Lindsey Pogue

Savage North Chronicles Box Set Vol. 1

By Lindsey Pogue

Copyright © 2020 Lindsey Pogue

All Rights Reserved

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the author, except as used in book review.

This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, events or incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to places or incidents is purely coincidental.

Editing by Lauren McNerney

Proofreading by Letter-Eye Editing

Cover Design by We Got You Covered Book Design

Written and Published by Lindsey Pogue

101 W. American Canyon Road, Ste. 508-262

American Canyon, CA 94503

Printed in the USA

Contents

Also by Lindsey Pogue

The Darkest Winter

Introduction

Prologue

Part I

December 7

1. Elle

2. Jackson

December 8

3. Elle

4. Elle

5. Elle

December 9

6. Jackson

7. Jackson

8. Jackson

December 10

9. Elle

10. Jackson

December 11

11. Elle

12. Jackson

13. Elle

14. Jackson

15. Elle

16. Jackson

December 12

17. Elle

18. Elle

December 13

19. Jackson

December 14

20. Elle

21. Jackson

22. Elle

December 18

23. Jackson

Part II

March

24. Elle

25. Elle

26. Jackson

27. Elle

April

28. Elle

29. Jackson

30. Jackson

31. Elle

32. Elle

33. Jackson

34. Elle

35. Elle

36. Elle

37. Jackson

38. Elle

39. Jackson

40. Jackson

41. Elle

42. Jackson

43. Elle

44. Elle

45. Jackson

46. Elle

47. Jackson

48. Elle

49. Jackson

50. Jackson

51. Elle

52. Sophie

53. Jackson

54. Elle

55. Sophie

56. Jackson

57. Jackson

58. Elle

59. Elle

60. Jackson

61. Sophie

62. Jackson

63. Elle

64. Sophie

65. Jackson

66. Elle

The Longest Night

December 7

1. Sophie

2. Alex

3. Sophie

4. Sophie

5. Alex

6. Sophie

December 8

7. Alex

8. Sophie

9. Sophie

10. Alex

11. Sophie

December 9

12. Sophie

Two Days Later

13. Alex

14. Alex

15. Alex

16. Sophie

17. Alex

Midnight Sun

Prologue

Part I

A year earlier

1. Sophie

2. Elle

3. Alex

4. Sophie

5. Elle

6. Alex

7. Sophie

8. Alex

9. Elle

10. Alex

11. Sophie

12. Alex

13. Elle

14. Sophie

15. Sophie

16. Alex

December

17. Sophie

18. Alex

Part II

July

19. Sophie

20. Alex

21. Elle

22. Alex

23. Sophie

24. Alex

25. Elle

26. Sophie

27. Sophie

28. Alex

29. Sophie

30. Elle

31. Elle

32. Sophie

33. Sophie

34. Alex

35. Elle

36. Elle

37. Elle

38. Sophie

39. Sophie

40. Elle

41. Alex

42. Sophie

43. Alex

44. Elle

45. Sophie

46. Alex

47. Sophie

48. Alex

49. Elle

50. Alex

51. Sophie

52. Elle

Part III

August

53. Alex

54. Sophie

55. Alex

56. Elle

57. Alex

58. Elle

59. Alex

60. Alex

61. Alex

62. Sophie

63. Alex

64. Sophie

65. Elle

66. Alex

67. Sophie

68. Elle

69. Sophie

70. Sophie

71. Elle

72. Sophie

73. Elle

74. Alex

75. Sophie

76. Alex

77. Sophie

Epilogue

Also by Lindsey Pogue

About Lindsey

Also by Lindsey Pogue

THE ENDING WORLD

Savage North Chronicles

The Darkest Winter

The Longest Night Prequel Novella

Midnight Sun

Fading Shadows

Untamed

Unbroken

The Ending Series

After The Ending

Into The Fire

Out Of The Ashes

Before The Dawn

Beginnings: Ending Series Origin Stories

The Ending Series: World Before

The Ending Legacies

World After

OTHER SERIES INCLUDE:

Forgotten Lands

Dust and Shadow

Borne of Sand and Scorn - Prequel Novella

Saratoga Falls Love Stories

Whatever It Takes

Nothing But Trouble

Told You So

Charity Anthologies

Beyond The Galaxy

For more information visit: www.lindseypogue.com

To all The Ending Series fans, near and far.

Thank you for making my dreams come true.

I wrote this for you.

Introduction

I’ve never written an introduction for one of my books before, and yet, for this book it feels important that I write one.

I’ve done extensive research to write this story, from regional weather patterns to local terminology. I’ve studied the rich history and people of Alaska, unincorporated towns and building blueprints. I’ve even reached out to Alaska officials with curiosities and questions, and watched just about every Alaska-related show there is to feel the cold in my bones the way that they do, and trust me when I say, there are a lot of shows.

And with all of my research, I’ve struggled to write a book that is both true to reality and an enjoyable, relatable, and wild ride for readers. That being said, many geographical and cultural elements of this story are factual, though I’ve taken creative licenses too. I feel this needs to be stated, specifically for readers who are familiar with life in Alaska.

Terms commonly used in the area, such as Indian and Eskimo, that might’ve been misconstrued in my writing as insensitive, have been avoided; some locations have been renamed so that I can write them to fit the needs of my story, and so on. As a history enthusiast, I like to get the details and rich culture just right, and that’s why writing this letter to you is so important to me.

Skewed facts and details are not unintentional or thoughtlessly written. Fiction is fiction, and in a post-apocalyptic world, I figured no one would mind if I got a little crazy. I hope you enjoy the first installment of this epic journey in the Savage North Chronicles.

Prologue

Elle

I struggled to open my eyes and discern where I was. Crammed. Head throbbing. I could barely make out the windshield as I blinked to focus.

“If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a hundred times. It’s all a conspiracy.” The male voice sounded far away, frenzied yet familiar. “You thought this was a democracy—that we had a say in what happened in this country? Who were you working your fingers to the bone for, before the shit hit the fan? You’re delusional if you think it was for yourself.”

My mind spun and cold air nipped at my skin.

The voice was laughing . . . An echo I’d heard many times before, grating and almost hysterical.

The radio crackled. “Here you all thought I was the delusional one.”

Thud—thud.

Blood pulsed through my head and ears, gravity pulling on me as I hung upside down.

Thud—thud.

“You think everyone going mad was accidental? The joke’s on you, my friend. The joke is on you.”

The clawing fear dulled as I tried to remember what happened.

I was driving . . .

My arms hung heavy as a biting pain shot up my tendons, sending me back to the cusp of unconsciousness.

“Wake up, world! Or whatever’s left of us. You are not in control. You never were. It was all a smokescreen, and they played you like my uncle Earl’s fiddle.”

The radio crackled again, and his voice faded in and out as I blinked, registering the shuffling sound beside me.

“Sophie?” I rasped.

One boot. Two boots. Upside down. They were covered in blood.

It was not Sophie.

I needed to scream—to get out of the vehicle and find the kids—but all I could think about was endless sleep.

“If you survived the pandemic, it was for a reason.” The radio voice looped through my head as blackness consumed me. “Welcome to the goddamn Apocalypse.”

Part I

December 7

Four months earlier

Elle

December 7

I couldn’t stop my foot from bouncing as Dr. Rothman and I sat in silence. The pipes in the wall clanked as the heat kicked on and off, trying to keep up with the arctic temperatures seeping into the building. The soft gray hue of the setting sun filled the room, washing over the mahogany bookshelves and mauve carpet.

“Elle,” Dr. Rothman prompted from her chair across from me. “Do you want to say more about your dreams?”

I leaned back into the couch and picked at the loose thread in the cushion. The thread had been there since my first visit nearly a year ago, and I wanted to cut it for her every visit since, but it didn’t seem appropriate.

“I’m not sure what else there is to say,” I told her. “It’s like I hear things in my room, see a dark form standing at the end of my bed, and I can’t move or speak.”

“It’s an ominous presence,” she clarified. “Not like a guardian watching over you, but something dark—monstrous, perhaps?”

Monstrous was a word for him, but I shrugged. “It’s just a man.”

“Is it him?”

I peeled my eyes away from the maddening cushion string and looked at my therapist. Her straight, black bob brushed against her shoulders as she lowered her brow, awaiting my reply. She was the most patient, immaculately put together person I knew. But then, I didn’t know very many people. I told myself I liked it that way.

“Elle?”

I stared at her. Was it possible to dislike someone and feel gratitude at the same time? I wondered it every time I was in her office. I hated the expectant expression that always creased her brow, both stern and soft, and the way she made me feel beholden to her. I’d made a point to never feel beholden to anyone ever again. But she was different.

“You requested this meeting today,” she reminded me.

“Yes,” I said, clearing my throat. “It’s him. It’s always him. I can feel his presence even if I can’t always see him in the darkness.”

“Does he ever move?”

My hair stood on end, imagining he stood beside me now. I knew how it would feel—a cold sweat, frozen in place, and unable to breathe. “Yes. He moves.”

“But he doesn’t touch you?”

“Not in my dreams. He . . . watches.” I stared at my fingernails, the nude paint chipped from picking at it the minute I got off the ship. I could remember the last time I let him touch me, like it was yesterday. It was as if his skin was still beneath my fingernails and I wanted to scrub it away. “It’s like he’s haunting me.”

Dr. Rothman shifted in her chair, the leather protesting as she swung her right leg over her left. “You think it’s brought on by his recent death,” she guessed, drumming up an image of my stepfather, good ol’ Dr. John, all over again.

I was more compelled to explain than to agree. “Sometimes I blink and he’s still there.”

Dr. Rothman lifted her chin. “Elle, have you ever heard of sleep paralysis? When a person’s caught between sleep and wakefulness?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’ve heard of it.” I tucked my dark hair behind my ear, uncertain I liked where she was going with this.

“Then you might know it’s common, especially in people with poor sleeping habits or who struggle to get a good rest.”

“You think that’s why Dr. John keeps visiting me in my sleep?” It didn’t seem likely, but then I didn’t have a doctorate in psychology like she did.

“Well, you said yourself you feel awake, and it feels like he’s there—real and inside your room.” She pursed her lips, which meant she was in analysis mode. “In sleep paralysis, the inability to speak and move generates fear, naturally, which feeds panic. It’s common to hallucinate apparitions, sometimes even hear them.”

“Well, I definitely don’t see ghosts or aliens,” I said wryly. But I had heard him whisper my name in my sleep. The hair on my arms stood on end again, and I rubbed the back of my neck.

“No, you see something much worse, don’t you?”

I cleared my throat. She got me there. I’d take the boogeyman over Dr. John standing next to my bed any day.

The heater kicked on again, and I stared at the vent in the floor, listening to its soothing hum as my mind drifted. “I panic,” I admitted. “I blink, like it will make him disappear, but he’s still there, like he’s really in my room.” My heartbeat thumped harder and louder in my ears, remembering.

“But you’ve had episodes like this before, with other dark figures that were not your stepfather.”

“Not for a while.”

Dr. Rothman’s mouth quirked in the corner, pleased. “So, you’re enjoying the shooting range then?” Of course she was pleased, the shooting range had been her idea, to give me a sense of control in my life, my safety in particular.

I could practically feel the weight of a pistol in my hand, the strain of my forearms as I pulled the trigger. It was power and control. It was sanity when my thoughts were dark and desperate. “Yes, the shooting range has been helping.” Until now.

“Good. What about relationships? Have you explored any since Ben?”

I snorted. “No. I don’t think I’m ready for that.” The early stages of a relationship were easy—they were mostly physical, and you could be whoever you wanted in the beginning. It was being real with someone I wasn’t ready for again. The crumpled brow. The pitying gaze. The unspoken judgement. The self-loathing that followed.

“Self-discipline is hard for you, Elle. Six months ago you might’ve rushed into another relationship, but you haven’t. Restraint is a big step.” Dr. Rothman smiled this time, big and wide the way a proud mother might. Maybe she was the closest thing I had to a mother, even if she was probably thirty-five, only ten years older than me. To a stranger, we might’ve resembled each other with our slender frames and brunette hair, though she was more like six feet to my five-foot-seven.

“What about your letters to your mother? Are you still writing them?” Dr. Rothman blinked, waiting.

Though I hated to disappoint her, I shook my head. “I’m not sure I see the point. She’ll never get them. I haven’t heard from her since the day she left, I don’t even know if she’s alive.” My mother took off when I was six and never looked back, leaving me and Jenny with the worst kind of devil—one that everyone else adored. My visit wasn’t about my mother though.

“I got a call from his estate,” I blurted, remembering the older woman’s voice on the other end of the line. This is Sandy Fields calling for a Miss Eleanor St. James. I’d been playing her words over and over for the past four days, uncertain what to do. “Dr. John left me everything.”

“Did he?” Dr. Rothman lifted an eyebrow. It was nice to know my stepfather could still surprise her too.

“His executor wants me to go to Eagle River to deal with his affairs.” I met her blue gaze. Anywhere near Anchorage was the last place I wanted to be. “So, it’s not just the dreams that have been bothering me,” I admitted.

She was pensive a moment, turning her pen over in her hand before she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her lap. “While I didn’t expect, nor would I wish, for your past to show up at the foot of your bed, I think it’s good these things are moving closer to the surface, instead of weighing you down in a past you can’t control, lingering in a childhood you didn’t choose. It’s your adulthood that matters, right? The now. The monsters from your childhood can only haunt you if you let them, and this is the closing of a huge part of your life.”

“What are you saying?”

She clasped her hands in her lap. “I think the more you try to understand the monsters you’ve created in your mind, the more you can expel their power over you and move on.”

“Monsters I’ve created?” I repeated flatly.

“Your stepfather is in the past, and yet he still follows you around. He is one man—a dead man as of last week—who has set the stage for all others. You’ll never see him again, and yet he’s in your life incessantly, in all that you do. He’s in every man you meet and refuse to trust. He’s in your dreams at night. While it’s natural to internalize the past, it’s not healthy, and it doesn’t have to be that way, not forever. John is just a man, a horrible man, but he’s only a man and only has the power you give him.”

While Dr. Rothman’s words made sense, it was far from easy to flip a switch and make him disappear, no matter how badly I wished he would.

“Let me ask you this,” she said and straightened her shoulders. “If you saw him standing in front of you on a busy street, what do you think you would do?”

I imagined him wearing a gray trench coat with his clean-shaven face and hollow brown eyes. His salt and pepper hair would be slicked back without a strand out of place. He would smile the same false smirk that always gave his mood away.

My stomach turned.

“You’re having a visceral reaction about a dead man.”

My eyes narrowed on her of their own accord.

“Good, then you see my point. Feelings tend to govern us, not the mind. Find a way to move on from feeling the way you do because your brain already knows he can’t hurt you anymore.”

Feelings were everything, a warped heap inside me—fear every night as a child, knowing he was outside my window in the shadows, or dread when I could hear him breathing beside my bed and the air shifted as he reached for me. I let out an uneven breath, exhaling the tightness in my chest.

“Are you going to Anchorage?” Dr. Rothman finally asked.

I definitely didn’t want to, and I wasn’t sure I should care what happened to his things. I met her gaze. “I’m undecided.”

“Maybe it’s time to end this for good, Elle.”

Even if crawling into an obscure, dank hole of horrific unknown was preferable, I knew she was right. “You think I should go.”

She blinked at me.

“I figured you’d say that.”

“It’s why you came.”

Reluctant, I nodded.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll find your monsters are old and shriveled now,” she said, smiling.

“Ha.” A strand of hair fell in my face as I sat forward on the couch. “That’s an amusing image.” I tucked it behind my ear again.

Dr. Rothman looked at her watch, and though she said nothing, I knew my session was up.

“Well, that was fun.” I stood up with a stretch and grabbed my bag from the cushion beside me. It was old and covered in patches collected from the ports the cruise ship I’d worked on had stopped at over the past four years. All the places I had gone, searching for a life far away. And yet I always came back. Something unexplainable seemed to tether me to this cold, dark place.

Dr. Rothman stood. “Go to Eagle River, Elle.” Her blue eyes rested on mine with a subtle command in them. She wasn’t saying it as my therapist, but as my friend.

I nodded, non-committal, as the phone on her desk buzzed. She picked up the receiver, and I opened the door to leave.

“Oh, Elle?”

I glanced behind me.

“Happy Birthday.” A full, knowing grin engulfed her face, and she winked at me.

I hated birthdays.

“Thanks,” I muttered, and with a wave, I shut the door behind me. The hall was long, and I passed a few more offices on my way to the exit, before I stepped outside.

I folded the collar of my down parka up around my neck. The cold, crisp winter air stung my face and the inside of my nose. Snow lined the sidewalks and the rooftops of downtown Seward, but the harbor glowed with muted lights of blue and orange. Like the bay as the clouds set in, my mind felt foggy. Why did life have to be so exhausting?

Begrudgingly, I dialed my sister’s number and put the phone to my ear. How long had it been since I’d spoken to her? Months? Nearly a year? I pursed my lips as the phone rang and rang before it went to voicemail.

“It’s JJ. Leave me a message.” JJ? I hadn’t heard that nickname in a while. But that was Jenny, short and to the point. Typical.

“It’s me,” I said, uncertain why I’d called her to begin with. Jenny wasn’t the type of sister to console or commiserate with. She ran away the day we turned fifteen and led a life I knew almost nothing about. I didn’t blame her for leaving—I would have gone too, if she’d told me she was running away—but I did blame her for never looking back.

I cleared my throat. “I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but Dr. John’s dead. He left me the house, and—well, I’m thinking about going back for a few days.” I glanced down the sidewalk, knowing deep down she wouldn’t call me back. Regretting my call altogether, I hung up. Leave it to my identical twin to make me feel perpetually alone.

The screen darkened, and I gripped the phone tighter in my gloved hand. The ginormous cruise ship at port sounded its horn, and I peered at it longingly for the first time. I could leave with the ship tomorrow, spending the next week calling guests into the studio to take overpriced, choreographed photos that would end up forgotten in a drawer a month down the line, or I could be well on my way to Anchorage by then, headed to the one place I swore I would never return.

Despite the appeal of drifting out to sea, I knew what I had to do.

Jackson

December 7

“Come on, babe,” I called down the hallway as I swooped the lasagna off the kitchen counter. I nearly tripped on Hannah’s favorite polka-dot slippers. Luckily, she’d made my favorite dinner, which more than made up for it. It was still warm, and Grandma Ross’s recipe made my mouth water just thinking about it, especially coming off twelve hours of patrol with little sleep. The scent had my stomach barking at me.

“Babe—”

“I’m coming,” Hannah sang. Since the end of the first trimester, she had a permanent lilt in her voice, a happiness. Pregnancy, I’d come to realize, suited her, and I couldn’t help smiling as I swung the side door open.

I kicked it back with my foot as the cold air breezed through. The stack of firewood against the garage was low. Great. The neighbors had their Christmas lights up and I hadn’t even started mine yet. I added that to my ever-growing honey-do list, along with finishing up the crib and starting my Christmas shopping. I glanced at the calendar hanging on the fridge. I still had a solid two weeks left. I’d be fine.

“Coming, coming,” Hannah sang again. Her boots dragged against the carpet as she hurried toward the door. At eight months pregnant it was more of a toddle than a run, but it made me uneasy nonetheless.

“Babe, be careful,” I told her, nodding to her coat on the rack. “And make sure you’re bundled up. It feels like it’s below zero out here.”

“Jackson, honey,” she said softly. “I’m pregnant, not nine.”

With a slight head tilt, I glared at her, eliciting a wink in return. “Warm the truck for me?” she simpered. “I’ll lock up the house.”

“I’m on it.” Clicking the fob in my pocket, I remotely started the truck. It grumbled to life in the garage as I stepped out onto the breezeway. The front yard was covered in white. It wasn’t surprising given it was dead winter, but the streets looked unplowed, just as neglected as they’d been at dawn when I got home. The last thing I needed to worry about was Hannah driving to work every morning on dangerous, unplowed roads, risking an accident and turning our unexpected bliss into another devastating loss.

I cleared my throat and stepped into the garage, elbowing the garage opener on the wall. The door groaned and protested open.

“It smells like a carburetor in here,” Hannah grumbled as I opened the back door of the truck and slid the lasagna inside.

“It’s called grease because this is a garage—my garage,” I warned her.

“I have an infuser—”

I turned to her with breakneck speed. “No more lavender,” I told her. The garage was the only place left in the house that didn’t tickle my nose every time I walked into it.

Hannah lifted her chin with feigned offense. “Suit yourself.”  She walked around the front of the truck to the passenger side. “Do you think Kyle and Kelsey will have kids?” she asked as I opened the door for her.

“Um . . . I have no idea.” I took her hand and helped her into the cab. “Why? You willing to ignore the fact you don’t like Kelsey if she’ll give you nieces and nephews?”

“Maybe,” she said and settled in with a sigh. Her cheeks were already red with exertion and the cold, and her golden eyes gleamed. She was small, even with a belly double the size of her beer guzzling uncle, Sal. “Kyle would be a good dad,” she mused. “He’s so much like our father.”

Yes, her brother would be a good dad, but not just because he was like his father. Kyle Ross didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve like I did, and he didn’t hold grudges either, he thought life was too short for that. But he had a perspective many others didn’t, his six years in the infantry had seen to that. He’d seen more of the world than he’d bargained for, and if he had kids, it would be difficult for him. He above any of us knew how precious life was; he’d watched it slip through his fingers more than once, something he only talked about when he’d had too many beers and his heart felt too full. For now, he had a revived relationship with an old flame to navigate, and them moving in together was enough of a hurdle for the time being.

Thinking about Ross as a dad and knowing my own faults, I wondered if I would be a good father. Would I be too tough? Too rough around the edges, like Hannah often teased me? Would I baby her to the point of suffocation since she isn’t supposed to exist as it is? I wanted to think I’d be a good father, even if it scared me shitless.

“Where’d you go?” Hannah asked, watching me.

I chuckled and shook my head. “I was just thinking about the impending chaos. This time next year we’ll have a little girl to pack around with us.”

Hannah’s meditative smile curved into a grin. I knew that look. She had a secret, something I would either love or hate.

I crossed my arms over my chest and waited. “What is it, Han? Spill.”

With a trill of a laugh, she dug into her purse and pulled out an ultrasound image. “I got it at the doctor’s yesterday—”

I took the image of our daughter with greedy fingers. “How could I have forgotten—and you’re only just showing me?” I turned the image around in my hand.

“You were exhausted when you got home. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You should have,” I admonished, admiring little shadowed ears and her little nose. “Holy shit,” I breathed.

Hannah stared at me, expectant.

“This is really happening.”

“Yes, it is,” she said with a laugh. “You said that last time.”

“I know, because sometimes I can’t believe it.” I would be a father. It wasn’t a hope or a wish anymore and felt more real than ever.

“And . . . I’ve decided on a name,” she whispered.

I met her smiling eyes. We’d considered plenty of names in the past, but after three miscarriages it became harder to discuss, to hope. This time, I wanted it to be up to her.

“Molly, after your mom.”

My heart squeezed so tight my eyes burned. “But—” I cleared my throat. Adaline Ross had made her wishes known the day she found out she was getting a granddaughter. “What about your mom—”

“I like Molly,” she said simply. “My mom will get over it.” She brushed the back of her mitten-covered fingers over my cheek. “I want our daughter to know about your mother and learn about your culture. I want her to be a part of that world, too.”

I leaned in and pressed a kiss to Hannah’s lips, inhaling her—burnt amber, and of course, a hint of lavender. My wife was the light I’d found in self-pitying darkness, the one who’d saved me from myself and the bottles of bourbon I’d used to drown myself in every night. She was the woman I most admired, and even in the seven years I’d known her, she never ceased to amaze me.

Resting my forehead against hers, I stared down at Molly’s image in my hand.

Unfortunately, it will never happen.

The chances are low. I wouldn’t count on it . . .

We’d heard it all, and had our hearts torn to shreds three times in the process, but eventually we’d proven them wrong. Six weeks turned into the first trimester, which turned into a month from Hannah’s January due date, and we were finally allowing ourselves to not only hope, but to expect—a baby . . . A family.

“Molly Adaline Mitchell,” I said softly. There was no reason Molly couldn’t have both of her grandmothers in spirit. “It’s perfect.”

“Yes,” she said. “It is.” Hannah tucked a loose hair behind my ear. “And you’re looking a bit unkempt, Officer Mitchell. I’m surprised your superior hasn’t written you up yet.”

“He wouldn’t dare,” I chuckled and handed her the sonogram for safekeeping. “But we will be late, and he might give me lip for that.”

Hannah clasped the seatbelt with a sigh. “Oh, all right. If we have to go.”

“Don’t sound too excited,” I muttered, and closed her into the truck. I hurried around to the driver side, my boots clomping against the cement, and then climbed inside and shut the door, locking us into the draftless cab. “You got me all distracted and now the truck isn’t warm.”

“I’ll survive,” she said, pulling the visor down. She ran her fingers through her long, blonde hair as she eyed herself in the mirror. “I feel fat but not gross fat,” she mused. “Healthy fat.”

Chuckling, I backed down the driveway, pulling carefully onto the road. “Healthy fat is a good thing, right?”

Flipping the visor up, Hannah sat back in her seat, settling in for our fifteen-minute drive toward Ross’s new condo on the other side of town.

“Yep. Though, I have to admit the sleeping part of pregnancy is getting more difficult.”

“Only a few more weeks, then you’ll really feel sleep deprived.”

“No,” she said. “You will.” She grinned, but she was right. Between twelve-hour patrol shifts and a newborn, our lives were about to take crazy to another level.

I turned out of our neighborhood and headed toward the highway. A car passed me, going the speed limit, but on unplowed roads it made me nervous.

“You should call him,” Hannah said, her voice low and contemplative.

It was a tone I knew well, and I glanced in the rearview mirror to scour the road behind me.

“Jackson—”

“I will,” I told her.

“I’m serious. I want your dad to know his granddaughter and be a part of her life if he wants to.”

“I know, I’ll call him. I promise. I’ve been preoccupied with the extra shifts and all the bureaucratic bullshit going on right now. They’ve been giving us the runaround about all the extra caution—crime throughout the country is on the rise, you know?”

“Yes, so you told me the last time I brought this up,” she reminded me.

My dad and I had three obligatory calls a year: Christmas, his birthday, and mine. Other than that, I didn’t think about him all that much. I never forgave him for forcing me to leave my Yup’ik family and heritage behind after my mom died, because he couldn’t cope.

“I’ll call him tomorrow on my lunch,” I promised, and squeezed her hand reassuringly.

She squeezed back. “Good.”

In three weeks, I would be the odd man out—me against two girls. I needed to get used to picking my battles, and losing them.

December 8

Elle

December 8

Driving to Eagle River was the longest two and half hours of my life. Olive, my clunky, green CRV made the trip without too much protest, though the ride was anything but smooth. The rattling in the dash bothered me more than usual, but I suspected that had something to do with my anxiety about going home more than poor Olive herself. Traffic in Anchorage proper didn’t help either, and if I was honest, Jenny blowing off my call hurt, even if I should’ve expected it.

I turned onto the frontage road. The Not A Through Street sign wasn’t the only landmark anymore. The other was a giant husky head with the big black font around it: Frontier Dog Tours. It was a weather-ravaged sign, but I’d never seen it before, so it couldn’t have been more than seven or so years old at most.

Inwardly, I chuckled. Dr. John must’ve been elated to learn he was getting neighbors, a bunch of loud, four-legged ones that would no doubt disturb his morning coffee on the back deck of his secluded, modern ranch house.

I didn’t think much more about it as I neared the estate. It wasn’t a mansion, but it was large and sprawling, just like the land he and my mother built it on.

The driveway opened on the left side of the road, and I slammed on the brakes. There was an old Ford pickup in the driveway, the same spot Dr. John’s Mercedes used to sit during the summer.

It took a split-second to remember he was dead, and another second to recall he would never own a truck so old and rusty. Either the sweet-sounding executor, Sandy, was more badass than I thought and had arrived early for our meeting, or I had a different visitor. I wasn’t quite ready for either one.

Pulling in beside the truck, I shifted Olive into park and peered through the windshield at a sight I thought I’d never see again. The house was just as I’d remembered it, with tall, floor to ceiling windows, and an arched roof. Despite the snow, I could even imagine the yard in the summer, perfectly manicured by Bruce, our gardener.

I hadn’t thought about him in years. He was a nice, retired Navy man who loved to talk about the good old days when life was equal parts work and play, and people tended to their garden for the satisfaction of creating something with their hands, instead of paying someone else to do it. He let me take pictures of him so I could practice using the digital camera Dr. John had given me on my sixteenth birthday. That was a bittersweet day, and I shook my sudden chills away.

I opened the car door, bracing myself for the blistering cold. The sky was graying as the clouds rolled in, so I hurried to collect my things from the back and made my way to the front door.

Weeks of snow covered the yard, but I knew there were lily beds underneath, one of Bruce’s most prized accomplishments. He’d shown me how to garden in a place hardened by permafrost most of the year, and how wood ash mixed with soil added more nutrients, encouraging life in unexpected places. Life is beauty, he’d told me. I scoffed at it then, but it was Bruce who told me you could see beauty in everything through a camera lens—you could focus on exactly what you wanted and capture it for an eternity. He told me to use photos as proof of what life could really be like.

As I stepped onto the porch, I eyed a set of fresh, large footprints in the snow that followed a covered path around the house. “Hello?” I called.

A gust of wind raked over me, coldness seeping into my spine.

“Hello there,” a man called out and stepped around the side of the house. He was over six feet tall, with broad shoulders, a gray goatee, and short hair that stuck out beneath his ski hat. “Can I help you, Ma’am?” He looked me over, eyes shifting from my face to my luggage and back.

“Actually,” I said as he took a few steps closer. “I’m wondering if I can help you. I’m Elle St. James. This is my house.” The words were clunky and forced even if they were true.

The man stopped a couple yards away—close enough for me to notice he had mud on his clothes, and what looked like dog hair, too. There was nothing overtly sinister about him, but something was off—something that made the hair on the back of my neck and arms stand on end.

His dark, close-set eyes narrowed on me. I was about to ask him to leave when he smiled. “You’re Dr. John’s daughter, aren’t you?”

“One of his stepdaughters,” I corrected, as politely as possible.

The man offered me his hand. “Thomas Mitchell. I run a dog kennel down the road. There have been several break-ins in the area lately, those end-of-the-worlders with any excuse to steal what isn’t theirs.” He glanced at the house. “I’ve been checking in on the place from time to time since John went to the hospital.”

I was glad to hear John hadn’t died in the house even if I knew it was a morbid thought. I wasn’t sure I could handle being in the house at all let alone knowing he’d died there.

Thomas shoved his hands in his pockets. “I was sorry to hear what happened to him.”

“Yes, well, thank you, Thomas, for looking in on the place.”

“You can call me Tom, Miss.”

I nodded. “I’ll be here for a few days, so you’re off duty.”

He pursed his lips and lowered his chin in understanding. “Very well.”

I turned for the front door.

“Will you sell?”

I looked back at him. “The house? Yes,” I said, the answer rolling easily off my tongue. “I hope to have it on the market within the next couple days.”

“You don’t waste time,” Tom said with a grin. “I admire that.”

I smiled as politely as I could, but I didn’t want to prolong my visit any more than I had to. “Yeah, well, I have a cruise ship leaving this weekend in Port of Seward, and I need to be on it.” I switched my luggage from one hand to the other, and glanced up at the dark clouds. “I better get inside and get the place warmed up. It looks like a storm’s coming in.”

“It’s supposed to be nasty, Miss. Like I said, I’m right down the road if you need anything.”

I waved a thank you, and Tom finally turned to head for his truck. As soon as he was inside and backing down the drive, I reached into the pot of frostbitten plants and grabbed the hide-a-key rock Sandy had left for me.

With steadier hands than I’d expected, I put the key in the lock. I hadn’t been home since I’d bolted on my seventeenth birthday, eight years ago. Glancing through the windows, into the dark house, I expected to see Dr. John standing in the hallway, watching, but the vast surrounding forest was all that reflected back at me.

After a few jiggles of the knob, the latch turned, and I pushed the door open. A waft of cold, stale air hit me, and I lumbered inside with my things. I shut the door, closing myself in the musty house, and let out a deep, even breath as I turned around. It’s just a house. The unwanted memories were like photographs I could lock in a box and shove under my bed to forget about. I could do that.

Unwrapping my scarf, I switched the entry light on and abandoned my things by the door. First things first—the thermostat. After three steps and a shimmy into the frigid room, I clicked the heat on and the unit kicked to a roar in the attic. It was noisier than I remembered, but it worked.

Dr. John always had the best of everything, which meant it was state-of-the-art in its day. Money afforded a lot of luxuries, and elaborate charades, like trips to Sea World, cruises to the Caribbean—perfect family outings that were all for show. But it also meant everything was weather-proofed, so I could bank on working water pipes too, even if the house had been uninhabited and left to the elements for a few weeks.

Heat hissed from the vents in the ceiling, and I rubbed my jacket-clad arms in anticipation of warmth. I was uncertain how to proceed as I peered around the living room.

The interior was just as I’d remembered it, stark and masculine, but precariously clean. The remote was in the black tray in the center of the coffee table, the metal coasters stacked in their holder beside it. The same gray suede couch sat in front of the fireplace with the large flat screen mounted above it. The only noticeable changes were a pair of worn, wool-lined slippers that sat next to the recliner, and a set of bifocals resting on a Holy Bible on the side table. I hadn’t been expecting that.

To anyone else they would be normal items—an old man’s glasses left behind. Dr. John hadn’t worn glasses when I’d known him, though, and he definitely wasn’t reading the Bible back then either. Even the slippers seemed strange too, like they were too comfortable, too casual for him. Dr. John Tomlin was a man of control and precision. He didn’t have time to relax or read a book. He was severe and calculated and always knew your weaknesses. You want a new camera? Here’s what I want in return . . .

Dr. John was an older man to begin with, wealthy and suave all his life, which is probably how he caught my mother in his net, not that I knew much about her other than her taste in men had been amiss. But I imagined his back stooping more and more as he turned into a lonely, regretful old man alone in his big, fancy house.

Taking a deep breath, I unclenched my teeth and stared at the Bible on the side table. At which point had he decided to leave me everything, knowing how much I hated him? Knowing I’d been willing to blackmail him to never have to see him again? Pictures never lie. Bruce had told me that.

Then it dawned on me. Bruce had known.

A cold, heavy mass pressed against my chest as I took in a shallow breath. Bruce knew. I let the unexpected truth settle in. For the first time, I realized why he asked me so many questions about Dr. John, and why they’d been fighting in the driveway the day Bruce left and never came back. Part of me was heartbroken, but elated when Dr. John kept his distance for nearly a year. It was all part of a plan—a deal brokered between them I knew nothing about.

My mind swirled with understanding, and I shivered as the house creaked in the howling wind. No more shadows, I thought and switched on the table lamp to brighten the somber afternoon. The watermark on the coffee table caught the light, and I thought of Jenny. She’d purposely left a sweaty glass of ice tea on it one summer.

Defiance had been her armor. I hadn’t realized it for the longest time. She was a smart-mouth, unruly girl that Dr. John learned quickly wasn’t worth the risk. She spoke her mind, was loud when he wanted quiet, talked back when he demanded submission.

Meanwhile, I was too afraid of what would happen if I challenged him. I never considered the ramifications of silence would be worse. I was the one who was punished for her disobedience, and deep down I think she knew that. But then Jenny had never thought much about anyone other than herself. She’d been convinced our mother would never leave us because moms don’t do that, and when I told her to grow up, I think she’d written me off for good.

The hardwood floors, brittle from the cold, creaked as I walked through the rest of the house. The kitchen was smaller than I remembered but much the same; six chairs nestled around the long, oak dining table with only a single place setting for one.

I crossed the living room toward the hallway and hesitated outside the first room on the left. My room. As much as I wanted to keep the door closed, my hand reached for the doorknob and opened it.

Somehow, I’d convinced myself that Dr. John would’ve turned it into a gym or a guest room after I left, but it was exactly as I’d left it, save for the open drawers and discarded clothes I’d left in my wake. There were no incriminating photos though, nor a nasty note telling him there were more where that came from. He’d straightened it and kept it clean, his need for control ensured that.

The lotions and body sprays that littered my dresser were the same ones I’d left behind. The quilt my mom made for me when I was born, the one that matched Jenny’s, was still folded at the foot of my bed.

Fleetingly, I wondered if Jenny was right—that there was more to our mom’s abandonment than Dr. John had told us. She had always been meek and submissive, so I hadn’t been surprised the day she finally broke and disappeared into the night, like an ailing cat slinking away to die alone in peace.

I clenched my hands at my sides, my fingers sweltering in my mittens.

Suddenly too warm to breathe, I pulled off my beanie and rushed out the bedroom door, slamming it shut behind me. I walked over to my purse and grabbed my phone to dial Sandy. I was closing a chapter, not opening an old, gaping wound. I couldn’t afford to spiral right now, and I was finished allowing them to have any more power over me. Screw them all—John, my mom, even Jenny. Soon it would all be a distant memory.

Elle

December 8

Sandy cancelled our meeting about the house because of a sudden cold. To distract myself from a wasted day in my own personal hell, I had a taxi driver drop me off at Taps, a local hangout with cheap drinks and a decent bartender, so said the driver. He was an older man who smelled of cloves and wore a leather biker jacket, which gave him some street cred in my book, even if it was illogical, but his recommendation didn’t disappoint.

Walking through the creaking door of Taps was like stepping into the past, complete with Formica tabletops, pleather swivel-seat bar chairs, and herringbone wood paneling along the back of the bar. The only thing I didn’t see was Patrick Swayze with his flowing brown locks and his arms crossed over his chest, looking pensive and ready to rumble.

The jukebox played low in the background, a song with a melodic country twang, but the place was warm and wasn’t a dark memory box like Dr. John’s, so I stayed. The scent of stale beer and musty wood was the least of my worries.

I shrugged out of my coat and hung it on the worn, wooden coatrack by the door. My North Face jacket was pretentious beside the beat-up leather one from the 90s and the trench coat draped beside it. The two men sitting at the bar stared at me, probably thinking the same thing. They nodded at me as I walked in, a bottle of beer in each of their hands.

With a quick nod in return, I pulled out an empty seat at the opposite end of the bar, smiling warmly at the bartender. He was an older gentleman with a balding, shiny spot on his head, overgrown beard, and a large beer gut.

He smiled back, his face open and bright, like Santa himself. “You a tourist?” he asked, studying my attire. Other than a long-sleeve shirt that covered my curves differently than his, we didn’t look all that dissimilar in our jeans and snow boots.

I shook my head and pointed to the Jameson two shelves up. “Here on business. A whiskey, please.”

He flipped a highball glass over and poured two fingers full. “A whiskey it is,” he said with a slight whistle. He placed the glass on a small napkin square and slid it to me.

I slid him my debit card in return. “You can start a tab.”

“You got it.” He turned to the cash register.

“Thank you.” I lifted the glass to my mouth and pretended not to notice the lipstick stain on the rim. Though drinking was never really a vice of mine, I felt almost desperate for it, and with a quick swish of the glass, I swallowed the spicy liquid down in one gulp. I reveled in the trail it blazed from my throat into my stomach and licked my lips.

“You’re a whiskey girl, huh?” The bartender’s brow crinkled. If I wasn’t mistaken, there was admiration in his non-question.

I shrugged. “By default. It’s the only thing my stepdad wouldn’t drink.”

“Ah. I see.” Amusement curved his lips.

Did he? His eyes fixed on me, measuring me up as I pulled out my phone to check the severity of the impending storm. Maybe the bartender had an inkling, since I assumed he was good at gauging people. It was part of his job, assessing if a patron would cause trouble and determining when one more drink was one too many. In a state with freezing temperatures most of the year where the natural beauty could be equally cruel and terrifying, I assumed he’d seen a lot of desperation in people’s eyes in his lifetime. I was probably no different.

As I was about to put my phone back in my purse, I noticed twelve unread emergency alert texts. I clicked the first message open. Below the image of a man, it read: Anchorage manhunt for assault and battery charges. I tapped it closed before I could read the rest. I’d been getting more and more notifications lately, and I didn’t need to hear about all that shit right now. I was on a mission to forget my problems, not get sucked into the desperate state of the world and humanity—both of which were completely out of my control.

There was a reason it took a certain type of person to thrive in Alaska. The arctic nights could stretch long, and dark thoughts ran rampant; a never setting sun in the summertime could create just as much disquiet. We lived in a place so far removed from one town to the next, it was easy to get lost in the restlessness. Traveling with the cruise lines helped, even if it was to have subpar conversations and get outside of my head for a week or two at a time.

“I’ll have another, please,” I said, running my fingers through my hair. The strands fell down around my shoulders, still not as long as they used to be—but getting there. I’d cut my hair after I’d left Dr. John’s house. He preferred Jenny and I with long hair, and illogically, I’d kept it short for years after, as though it might help keep him away—until I started seeing Dr. Rothman.

The bartender filled my glass again and slid it back to me. I turned it around and around, contemplating what I might do with the money I made from selling the house. Buy a new one? Move away from this place? I actually liked living in Seward. Being here, so far from the ocean, was strange. Moisture wasn’t heavy in the air like it was in Seward. Eagle River was further removed and cold in a way that made my bones ache at their core, and my body stiff. The whiskey though . . . I tossed it back, breathing out an invisible fire. Oh yeah, one more of these would do the trick.

“Looks like they have another update for us,” the bartender muttered.

The outbreak in the lower forty-eight had been making the headlines for the past week, a possible chicken flu outbreak from an unsanitary factory, which seemed to happen more and more frequently. With the increasing FDA regulations, I wasn’t sure I bought it, even if people around here were starting to get a tad nervous. We imported most of our food, so what was to keep the outbreak from spreading all the way out here?

Tugging the elastic band from my wrist, I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and turned to the flickering light of the television. I wasn’t sure if the heater was cranked up to a hundred degrees or if the whiskey was finally making its way through my veins, but I was growing uncomfortably warm.

The bartender turned up the volume on the flat screen.

“—Influenza hospitalization is at an all-time high. Joseph Hillman is in Georgia now—outside of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention—awaiting an announcement from the Director-General of the World Health Organization, Kenneth Donaldson. Joseph, have you heard anything new since this morning?”

The screen flashed from the brunette news anchor to who I assumed was Joseph Hillman, standing outside the CDC. He was wearing a measly scarf and windbreaker, and a surgical mask hung around his neck. “No, Veronica, there’s been nothing new officially reported. The Virginia and Georgia departments of health still request everyone stay indoors as much as possible while they continue to investigate the multi-state outbreak of what’s said to be an avian flu. Now, the U.S. Department of Agriculture is said to be helping them with this, but there’s been nothing official reported. We already know they think the outbreak might’ve started at a chicken plant in western Colorado, but, again, there has been nothing officially announced.”

“Any idea why the East Coast would be so affected by an outbreak in Colorado? Have they claimed they are the same virus, or why they’ve had such difficulty containing it?”

Joseph shook his head. “No, they haven’t stated whether they’re connected, though there’s plenty of speculation circulating. We know there was an outbreak reported last week at two different plants owned by the King Corporation. Forty-two people were initially infected, and only six of them survived and remain in critical condition. Without knowing much more, you can imagine the panic here on the East Coast with so much uncertainty.”

Veronica’s eyes crinkled with apprehension. “With all the spreading panic, the CDC seems to be more quiet than expected.”

Joseph nodded. “There’s been a lot of vague talk, which makes most of us standing out here wonder if they’re still working on their answers. Hopefully, we’ll know more after their official statement tomorrow.” A gust of wind whipped over him, causing his scarf to flail around his body.

Veronica cleared her throat. “Has the King Corporation had anything to say about all of this?” I had to wonder just how off script she was going.

“Unfortunately, they could not be reached for comment.”

“The number of sick reported in Wales yesterday were staggeringly high as well. Is it possible it’s the same disease?”

“Again, there’s no way to know for sure.” Joseph looked exhausted and a bit perturbed by her questions, perhaps because he was standing out in the cold, or perhaps it was because he didn’t know the answers to very much at all.

He switched his microphone from one hand to the other. “One thing I can tell you,” he started, a bit reluctantly. “Is that historically speaking, the CDC operates on the basic principle that disease knows no borders. Statistically, this means in today’s interconnected world, diseases can be as dangerous as wildfire, spreading from an isolated village to any major city in the world in as little as thirty-six hours. This information was on their website last week, and as of today, I could no longer find it.”

Despite his calm and collected demeanor, the reporter’s foreboding tone gave his anxiety away, and a shiver shimmied down my spine. If the CDC wasn’t providing answers during a rising panic, that probably meant everyone was screwed.

The guy at the end of the bar set his beer down with a clank. “Thank God we’re way out here,” he muttered, but I couldn’t breathe as easily. The sticky fingers of fear crept over me. Just last week I’d met hundreds of people on a cruise, traveling from around the world, and my stomach knotted as I considered how many of them could’ve been sick.

“Can I getcha another?” the bartender asked, eyeing my empty glass.

“Um, yeah. Please.” I tried and failed not to wonder how long before a virus like that was out of control and what that would even look like.

“The name’s Terry, by the way,” he said with a weak smile. Either he could see the alarm on my face, or he felt it himself.

“Elle,” I said, flashing him a wavering smile back.

Terry poured me another shot, heavier this time. “It’s on the house.”

Elle

December 8

My mind was spinning as Terry drove me back to the house. His old truck was loud and rattled over every bump in the road, making my stomach churn more and more as each minute passed. Although I’d had three or four shots, it wasn’t until I’d stood up to leave the bar that I realized just how drunk I was.

“I’d wanted to forget the past tonight,” I slurred. My tongue was heavy and thick in my mouth. I laughed. “I think I’ve accomplished that.”

Terry chuckled. “I think you did, Miss Elle.” He was a nice man, I’d decided. Among other things, I’d learned that he was very proud of his grandkids from Juneau, but wished he saw them more.

The headlights flashed on the dog kennel sign that was coming up fast. “It’s right here,” I directed.

Terry hit the brakes, thrashing me forward, and turned onto the frontage road. Had I ever been so drunk? I nearly lost the contents of my stomach as he drew closer to the driveway, and I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to be this drunk again.

As we pulled into the driveway, I thanked Terry for the ride and fumbled to remove my seatbelt. “That was fun. We should do it again.” But as the words came out, I knew I would never see him again.

“Here,” he said, shifting the truck into park. He was about to climb out and help me when I held up my hand, the passenger door swinging open. “I got it. Get home to your wife,” I told him. My mouth tasted sour, but I hadn’t even thrown up yet. Not that I could remember, at least.

I stumbled out of the car.

“Take care of yourself, Miss Elle.”

I flicked him a goodbye wave as I ran as fast and steadily as possible to the front door. The snow was cold as it clung to my face, the wind like sheets of ice against my skin, but internally, I was on fire. My insides rolled and burned, like they were smelted in a caldron, churning until I couldn’t take it anymore.

I clung to the porch railing and doubled over. Everything scorched its way up my throat as I expelled it into the hibernating rose bushes. My entire body trembled, and it took everything I had left in me to hold myself upright and not fall to my knees.

This sucks.

Pulling in a deep breath, I peered out at the driveway. Olive was parked under a thin blanket of snow, Terry was gone, and everything was dark. Despite the sweat dripping down my temple, I needed to get inside where it was warm before I froze to death on the stoop.

I fumbled for my keys, using the doorframe to lean against. I couldn’t focus. I could barely make my fingers work, and it felt like something rotted inside me. I didn’t feel drunk anymore; I felt like I was dying.

Minutes passed, or maybe only seconds, before I was in the sweltering heat of the dark house. I slogged into the kitchen. All I could think about was drinking water, but lifting my arm to reach a glass from the cupboard was nearly impossible. I stuck my cupped hand under the faucet instead, sighing with relief as cool water rolled off my skin.

Chills immediately followed, then momentary numbness, which was a welcomed sensation. Bending over, I slurped the water overflowing from my hand as quickly as I could, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more water. My stomach rumbled, my insides twisting into knots, and before I realized what I was doing, I was hauling my ass down the hall and into the bathroom.

I couldn’t breathe, and tears stung my eyes. I peeled off my suffocating coat and the scarf around my neck. What the hell’s happening to me?

I switched on the light and dropped to my knees on the tile. I needed to purge every rotten thing inside me if I would survive what felt like pure misery.

I retched into the toilet bowl over and over, until my insides were raw and cramping with pain. Nose running and eyes too heavy to keep open, I rested my burning cheek on the cold toilet seat. “God,” I pleaded. “Kill me now.”

December 9

Jackson

December 9

I stared at the clock on the dash. It was barely 1:00 a.m. and I still had another three hours before I got a break. My mind was numbing over, and I wondered how many more frantic calls I would have to take before my good Samaritan side wore off completely.

The long, drawn out beep of an emergency alert broadcast blared through my speakers, peeling a layer of haze back from my mind. I ran my hand over my face, dreading what came next. I wasn’t sure I could take another Amber Alert tonight.

“The following message is issued at the request of emergency management. Due to the possibility of a viral outbreak, a mandatory quarantine has been issued for all cities in Alaska with five hundred or more civilians. Alaska residents, including those in Juneau, Anchorage, and Fairbanks, are asked to stay tuned to television and radio stations for further updates.”

I blinked out the window at the black morning as the recording repeated. Things had gotten crazy in the past twenty-four hours, but quarantine? I reached for my phone and dialed Ross. Even if I was certain he would’ve told me about this if he’d known, he was my superior and would have far more information than I did.

The phone barely rang once. “Are you hearing this?” he said in answer.

“Yeah. You didn’t know?”

“No, I mean—the chief said things were worse than they were letting on, but he never said the word quarantine.”

I stared at the radio, waiting for it to beep again—for another Emergency System Alert that would explain what the hell was happening, not just contribute to the spreading fear. “Should we meet up at the PD and—”

“Shit—he’s calling. I’ll hit you up in a sec.” Then the line went dead.

Could things have worsened so much overnight? It was hard to tell out here where everything seemed normal, parked at an abandoned gas station on the side of the highway. Normal except for the paper-thin mask I was wearing as a result of an unexpected fever outbreak. Just a precaution, we’d been told.

Out here, the roads were white and desolate like any other winter night. In a matter of hours, I’d only passed a few cars on the stretch between Anchorage and the surrounding boroughs, but that’s how the back roads were in a territory where miles of wilderness stretched between one unincorporated town and the next.

Chief Gonzalez’s request, that all units remain on-call, was justifiable when we thought it was to maintain order due to the spreading hysteria as conditions in the lower forty-eight worsened. But quarantine meant contagions, not food poisoning and chaos as the rest of the US scrambled to make sense of everything. How had it spread so fast? Or maybe everyone was just finally catching on. The past twelve hours had been a blur of breaking up bloody-knuckled fist fights, responding to car accidents from sick people who shouldn’t have been behind the wheel, and catching an arsonist in Sutton that claimed he wanted to know what it felt like since the world was ending, anyway.

If government officials had downplayed what was happening, they’d risked everyone’s health and safety, and I wasn’t bionic. Troopers were just as susceptible to contagions as everyone else, and we’d been on patrol for over twenty-four hours, since we’d got the call at the dinner table. My lasagna was still on my plate when we headed to the department for bullet-proof vests and masks.

I tore the mask off my face and clenched my hand around it. The damn masks wouldn’t do anything if a perp was infected, and I hit the dash with my fist. It creaked in protest and the computer screen shook, but I didn’t give a shit. There was no way to know if I’d caught the virus in the span of the last twelve or twenty-four hours, and now I might pass it on to Hannah when I got home.

I scrubbed my hands over my bristly face again. “Fuck,” I groaned and leaned my head back against the seat. I needed to compose myself before I called Hannah to see how she was feeling. And I needed to figure out where I was going to stay because I wasn’t taking my potentially sick-ass home until I was cleared.

I took a swig of cold coffee, though I didn’t need it. My body was already wound tight, my adrenaline kicking in. Staring into the darkness, I tried to control my racing thoughts. Regardless of whether or not I was sick, Hannah was in danger if the illness had already spread this far. Molly was in danger. Hannah wouldn’t survive if anything happened to this baby, not after we’d already lost so much and come so far with this pregnancy. Losing Molly would be devastating for both of us, and dread began to burn a hole in my stomach as I imagined the possibility of it.

“All units—” I glared at the radio. “10-19 for a 10-10 in progress. Lasson Street in Eagle River. Tango 3 is on the way, requesting backup. Caller is advising that there’s a 12-gauge shotgun and 2200 on the premises.”

I was only ten minutes away, but for the first time in my six-year career, I hesitated to answer the call. I hadn’t heard back from Ross and had to make the split decision to respond and risk getting sick or worse, or ignore it and be the cause if an innocent was injured or killed.

Loyalty. Integrity. Courage. “Shit.” Despite my better judgement, my oath made it impossible to ignore the call.

As I reached for my radio, my cell phone rang, vibrating and screaming at me from the passenger seat. “Finally.” I grabbed it, watching a Dodge Ram speed past me down the highway as I brought the phone to my ear. “Ross—what’d he say?”

“Mr. Mitchell? This is Nurse Crawford at the emergency clinic.”

My breath caught in my throat. Hannah. “What is it—what’s happened?”

“Your wife was admitted thirty minutes ago.” The nurse’s voice was raspy, like she was winded and distracted. “She’s in surgery.”

“She was what?” I could barely speak through my terror. “The baby . . .” Hannah still had a few weeks before she was due.

“Mr. Mitchell . . .” Nurse Crawford paused, a pause that implied impending bad news. “You better get down here.” There was a crash on the other end of the line—a commotion of back and forth muttering that drew closer. “Take him to room two-seventeen, through that door,” she commanded, and then the connection was lost.

“Hello?” I shouted into the phone. “What the . . .” My mind spun with a million questions as I threw the truck into drive, fishtailing on the slick road as I turned toward the city.

A Vise-Grip cinched inside my chest as my worst possible fears became reality. The roads blurred, and I wiped the tears from my eyes as I pressed the petal down as far as it would go. Hannah would be fine. Molly would be fine. Everything would be fine . . . I just needed to get there.

Jackson

December 9

I barreled through the hospital doors of the emergency room, passing a sea of patients that filled the waiting room, ignoring the stench of body odor as I hurried to the glassed-in front desk. The haggard woman with long, silver hair eyed me from behind the counter, taking in my uniform. “Can I help you, Officer—”

“My wife,” I rasped. “Where’s my wife—Hannah Mitchell?”

The woman’s dark eyes fell, and she nodded down the hall. “She’s in surgery, Mr. Mitchell. She had an accident.”

My knuckles whitened against the counter. “An accident?” She was supposed to be asleep, warm and at home in bed. I turned for the double doors that separated everything else from the waiting room.

“You can’t see her right now—Officer!”

I rushed down the hall of the small clinic. I didn’t care about the rules and they couldn’t stop me.

The hinges of the electronic doors screeched as I burst through, glancing fervently between the three closed rooms to my right. Surgery meant something bad happened, and there were complications.

“Hannah!” I shouted, even if a voice told me she couldn’t hear me.

“Sir!” the nurse called.

I peered through the window in the first door. An exposed, dark-skinned foot was all I could see, but it was enough to know it wasn’t Hannah, and I ran to the next. I peered through the second window, at the bloodied sheets on the floor. Someone had died in there, or was dying. And when the woman in scrubs moved out of my line of sight, I saw polka-dot slippers stained with blood discarded on the floor.

Air rushed from my lungs, and my heart froze in my chest. A wave of disbelief washed over me, taking with it every willful shred of hope I’d brought in with me.

Another scrub-shrouded person moved around the table. Blood soaked the sheet covering the mound of her stomach.

“Sir—”

I startled.

“You can’t be in here, sir.” The nurse tugged on my arm, but I couldn’t pry my eyes from Hannah. Was she still alive? Was the baby dead?

“Sir—”

“That’s my wife!” I growled, glaring at her.

The nurse swallowed. “I know, and I’m sorry, Officer Mitchell, but if you want her to live, you can’t distract Dr. Fines. Please,” she said, gesturing toward the waiting room. “Sit.” Her voice was calm and practiced. But I wasn’t like all the other husbands and fathers she’d talked to before. That was my wife and my child, and I did not understand what the fuck was happening. “You said there was an accident—”

She gestured toward the waiting room again. Patients were everywhere, blurs and outlines in my panicked haze, and the scent of sickness permeated the building.

“I know this is hard, and I’ll explain to you what I know.”

Uncertain if I should listen to her, to take even an immeasurable step back, I glanced back inside the operating room, at the nurse peering over at me. I sucked in a breath.

Hannah needed their attention, and I was only hurting her by causing a scene.

“Right this way,” the nurse murmured and rested her hand on my elbow. The severity of what was happening became a whirling tornado of uncertainty, and tears blurred my eyes as I followed her back out to wait with the others.

I listened for the creak of the operating room door and for the doctor to run out and reassure me everything would be okay, but the door never opened and the doctor never came. In my gut I knew nothing would ever be okay again.

The electric doors swung closed behind us. “There was an intruder,” the nurse explained, letting go of my elbow.

I paled. “A what?”

“Someone broke into your home—”

“A looter?” Dispatch had been flooded with reports all night.

The nurse shrugged. “An older man brought her in—Mr. Hutton.” Whether it was a courtesy extended because I was a trooper or because I was a distraught husband, I wasn’t sure, but the nurse handed me the intake report.

Neighbor heard a scream and gunshots. Ran next door and found the victim on the kitchen floor. She was barely conscious and holding her stomach.

I’m not sure how long I stared blankly at the paper before I dropped the clipboard and it crashed onto the linoleum. I couldn’t read it. I couldn’t bear it. Not when it was my wife fighting for her life in my house . . . holding my daughter. I could barely catch my breath.

The nurse crouched down for the clipboard. “He called 9-1-1 when he found her, but there was so much blood he brought her in himself.”

Her words were like distant horns, blaring and soft at the same time. They echoed through my head as I imagined Hannah scared and in pain, alone in our home.

“Officer,” the nurse said tentatively. My gaze drifted to her. “The intruder shot her in the abdomen . . . She lost the baby.”

I stumbled to the side table in the waiting room and lowered myself down. “No,” I said, shaking my head. Molly’s room was nearly ready and her clothes were already picked out for the drive home from the hospital.

The automated doors opened with a click and the doctor marched out. His face mask was resting under his chin like he could barely be bothered to come out and speak with me as he pulled one bloody glove off, then the other. His eyes were grayed, and his jaw was a few days unshaven.

“I’m sorry, there was nothing we could do,” he said unceremoniously. “I did all I could, but she’d already lost too much blood.” He rubbed his temple. “Her organs failed. She didn’t make it.” His words hadn’t even sunk in before the surgeon turned on his heel and hurried back down the hall, too busy to explain anything more. “I’m sorry,” I heard him mutter again, and then the automated doors shut behind him.

It was like I’d been pitted and hollowed out. I was a vacuous, abysmal void of incredulity. “I just saw her.” She’d given me a kiss, told me to be safe, and waved as Ross and I had drove to the station.

I shook my head, refusing to believe any of it.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Mitchell—” but the nurse’s sympathetic voice was like air to a nascent fire. “Oh, God. No,” I pleaded and let my head fall into my hands.

Hannah wasn’t gone. It didn’t feel real. “No . . .” I repeated, standing. I ignored the ache in my bones and instant fatigue. The doctor was wrong. He didn’t try hard enough. There was still hope.

My legs gave out before I could take two steps, and I stumbled back into the wall. The nurse reached out for me, but covering my face with my hands, I slid down to the cold linoleum. I was an abyss of emotion unlike anything I’d ever felt. Gaping. Raw. Empty pain. And yet so full and brimming, I couldn’t catch my breath.

“I’m so sorry,” she said again, but they were just words—sounds with no meaning.

Molly, our little miracle, was gone. She was supposed to be spoiled rotten and perfect.

A woman coughed somewhere in the room and I looked over. An indistinct horde of faces stared back at me.

I glanced down at my uniform. My blue fatigues had held a meaning once, but I was no longer a state trooper. I was a man whose world had just fallen apart, and my wife and child were dead.

I peered up at the nurse. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Clearing my throat, I tried again. “Can I see her?”

“Of course, you—”

“Hey!”

A man pushed himself off the far wall of the room. He had tattoos on his face and neck, and looked like he’d seen better days. “I’ve been waiting for hours. Am I gettin’ this broken arm looked at or what?”

The clinic was small, and couldn’t have had more than a handful of staff. The few staff around were bustling in and out the doors and answering phones.

“I’ve been here longer!” A woman shouted

The man with a broken arm pointed at the nurse, eyes narrowed. “I want to talk to management or something—”

I didn’t care about them and their bullshit problems. “Sit your ass down,” I told him. “Wait your turn.”

He took a step back, but I didn’t think it was because of the uniform. He scowled, but said nothing more.

“I need to deal with these patients,” the nurse said softly. “You know where to find her.”

Hesitant, I stepped past her. “Mr. Mitchell?” I peered at the nurse over my shoulder. “I’ll give you as much time as I can, but we’ll have to wheel her out when we need the room.”

I continued walking. Somehow, amidst the indescribable pain, I could also feel nothing at all. Reluctant to open the door—to see what remained of my wife and daughter—I peered in through the window slat and did my best to brace myself. I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. I wasn’t sure I could leave at all, not without her.

Lowering my head, I choked out a sob and squeezed my eyes shut before I could bring myself to open the door and step inside. I walked over to the curtain with a ragged breath, and pulled it open all the way.

A blanket covered Hannah’s stomach, and a small, infant-sized shape was wrapped in linen in the incubator beside her. My feet froze where I stood at the end of Hannah’s bed.

Her face was gray and slackened, not like she was simply sleeping but like she’d been gone for hours already. Her lips were less rosy, her skin more ashen, and as she lay there, I feared her as much as I missed her.

“Baby . . .” The word was only air exiting my lungs as I struggled to breathe.

Stepping around the bed, I took her cold hand in mine, wincing as I sat down on the stool beside her. I couldn’t see her through the tears, but I knew it was better that way as I brought her cold hand to my lips. “Han, you can’t leave me. I need you baby—” I sucked in a breath.

Last time I saw her, she was smiling, threatening to give me a haircut when I got home. Now she would never touch me, never sleep beside me again.

Tears dripped down my cheeks, onto her hand and down the soft skin of her arm. Another sob burst from my chest and I rested my forehead against her shoulder. I couldn’t do this—I couldn’t bear a life without her playful griping and dimpled smile. There was no reason to go on living without her.

Jackson

December 9

The phone rang. Then it rang again, forcing my mind to stir.

I wiped the crusted tears from my eyes and cracked my back as I unhunched myself and straightened. I wasn’t sure how long I’d sat beside Hannah or for how long I’d wept, but at some point, I’d fallen asleep. The fog in my mind hadn’t cleared and the nightmare hadn’t faded. Hannah was still lifeless in front of me—her fingers cool and stiff in mine—and it all came crashing back down on me.

Biting back another sob, I rose to my feet, my body yelling at me to stay with her, to never leave her side. But I couldn’t stay in the operating room forever. It wouldn’t be long before the nurse came in to take her from me. What would I do then? And I couldn’t leave her exposed like this any longer, undressed and cold. But she couldn’t feel the cold, I realized.

I stared at the pale skin of her throat, waiting for her to swallow or give me some small sign that somehow she still breathed. That was crazy, though. Her stomach was cut open beneath the sheets—I knew it was. I didn’t need to look, nor did I want to.

I peered up to the clock above the doorway. Then blinked and rubbed my eyes as I leaned closer. It was 6:15 in the morning. Five hours? I’d been sleeping for five hours? How had no one come to get me? In the recesses of my mind, I remembered shouting and banging in the hallway that had stirred me from my sleep, though none of it made any sense.

Reluctantly, I pried my fingers from Hannah’s, hating that it felt like a final goodbye, and dared to look at Molly’s body, still swaddled in the incubator. I couldn’t bring myself to go over, petrified what I might find. But I had to eventually. I needed to get them out of here and lay them to rest.

With a steadying breath, I leaned down and pressed my lips to Hannah’s forehead. “I love you so damn much,” I whispered. It was all I could do to grit back another breakdown.

The phone continued to ring down the hall, grating on my last nerve as it went unanswered, and then it dawned on me. I had two very important calls to make. Han’s mother and father in Hawaii needed to know what happened, and her brother . . .

The Vise-Grip cinched around my heart again, and I could barely stand the weight of dread, pressing against my chest. How was I going to tell Ross his baby sister was dead?

I braced my palm against the wall, willing myself to stay upright. My limbs were heavy with grief and exhaustion, and my mind was a cloud of insecurity, yet when I pulled out my phone to make the two most heart-breaking calls of my life, I had to be strong. I had never been the strong one, and now I needed to be their rock.

Dragging in a ragged breath, I readied myself to make the call. I thumbed the tears away, like it might actually help, and I stepped into the hallway.

When I saw I had no cell service, I felt . . . Relief? Distress? Defeat? I looked at the metal doors, which were open this time, and dropped my hand to my side. Only four people were left in the garage-sized waiting room, but the air smelled foul, like sour gym clothes in a sauna.

A nurse with a red bun and stalky legs I hadn’t seen before attended to an older woman with blood on her forehead, while another woman vomited in the far corner of the room.

“Excuse—” I cleared my throat, voice rusty. I stepped toward her. “Excuse me, Nurse?”

“What is it?” She didn’t bother looking up from the bandage she placed on the elderly woman’s head.

“Where’s the doctor?”

“Which one?” She rose to her feet and tossed a soiled rag into the cart beside her. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Dr. Fines left for a family emergency, O’Donnell is passed out in the break room, sick, and I’m not sure about the others.”

When she finally looked at me, I could see the sickness in her blue eyes. She looked jaundice, and it wasn’t only exhaustion and overwhelm. The nurse was unwell. We all were, I could feel it in my blood, sucking out what little life was left in me.

The governor’s ESA had come too late. I wasn’t one for facts and figures, but I knew it only took one person to infect a colony, history had proven that much. Despite its remote outposts and frozen lands, Alaska was no exception.

I cleared my throat. “My wife is dead,” I said dumbly.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Officer.” She pushed her supply cart over to a little girl sleeping in the last chair and placed the back of her hand against the girl’s forehead, brushing a loose curl behind her ear. The little girl inhaled deeply, her throat rattling, but she didn’t wake.

“What I mean is,” I continued, “she’s still in the operating room with a—my daughter.”

The nurse seemed to finally see me, really register my standing there, and she looked at me. Her name tag had a photo of her. Penelope Hernandez: Medical Assistant.

“The doctor said he’d come for her but he never did,” I explained.

The nurse rose to her feet, coughing into her shoulder as she surveyed the room. “What’s your name?”

“Jackson Mitchell. My wife is Hannah Mitchell, and she was in here for a gunshot wound to the stomach.”

The nurse’s brow furrowed with sympathy, and she shook her head. “I’m sorry about your wife,” she said again, though this time she seemed to mean it. “I don’t want to lie to you, Officer. We’re a small clinic, our rooms are full, these people have been waiting to see the doctors for hours, and we’re short staffed. I don’t see it getting better anytime soon. I’m not even sure we’ll be able to function as a clinic for much longer. We’re running low on supplies and there’s no one to run anything.” Her voice pitched. “We’ve all got it—it’s only a matter of time before. . .”

“Before what?” A new, spiraling kind of fear racked through me.

She glanced at the TV mounted on the wall. Two news anchors sat behind a desk, the camera panning between them. The segment title read: 70 million hospitalized in two days stokes fear in officials world-wide. Some are coining ‘End of Days’.

“They’re all dying,” she choked out. “They’re not getting better. They say it’s the H1N1/12 sickness.” Her eyes scoured my face, waiting for me to understand. But how could I? It had only been hours since I’d fallen asleep. It was happening too fast, and it made no damn sense.

“People aren’t just looting anymore—they’re losing their minds. We’re all going to die.”

“Hey,” I said as firm and softly as I could. “You are not going to die.” I said, pronouncing every word. If she was dying, there was nothing to stop me and everyone else from following behind her. And freaking out wasn’t an option for me—not with Hannah and Molly to tend to.

Summoning every shred of willpower that remained, I dug deep for what was left of my calm-and-collected reserve and led her to one of the empty chairs that didn’t have unidentifiable fluid on it.

“You’re just exhausted—we’re all exhausted,” I told her and pointed to the television. “They will figure this out. We just have to hold on a little while longer.” The lies were pouring out of my mouth. “You’ve been at this for hours, haven’t you?”

She nodded with a sniffle and blew a strand of red hair from her face. Her blue eyes were red-rimmed. “Yes.”

“You just need some rest.”

“I am exhausted,” she admitted. “I could use a couple hours to sleep.” She needed more than that given the gauntness of her face.

I glanced at the old woman in the chair opposite us, her eyes were closed and her mouth was open. Her chest was rising and falling with each shallow breath. I wasn’t sure why she hadn’t left, maybe she had no place to go, or maybe she was too sick, but the nurse wasn’t helping anyone by staying. “You’ve done what you can for these people. You should take a break.”

She nodded in pure defeat, as if she only needed someone to give her permission. “I only need a few minutes. I’ll be okay after that.”

The nurse rose shakily to her feet and looked down at me, still crouched beside the chair. “I can’t promise your wife and child will get the attention they deserve,” she explained, voice level this time. She wiped her brow with a shaking hand. She was ailing before my eyes, and I stood and took a slight step away from her, even though I knew it was already too late.

“It’s not clinic policy—in fact, it’s against the law—but if it were me, I would consider taking my family somewhere to be looked after properly, where their bodies will be cared for.”

Horror replaced the dread and despondency that turned in my gut and inched its way up my throat. “You mean take them with me?” I imagined holding my dead wife in my arms and the weight of a tiny lifeless baby in my hands. “Take them out of this clinic, to God knows where?”

She coughed again, and this time I felt the air shift between us. The nurse was right. This was the plague and no one was coming for my family. None of us had much time left, my weakening muscles and fatigue were proof of it.

A wave of calm washed over me at the thought. If I didn’t make it through the virus, I wouldn’t have to go on living without Hannah and Molly.

“I’m saying,” the woman started again—her voice more raspy than before. “Do what you want, no one will stop you.”

She grabbed a jug of water from behind the desk and chugged it down, wiping her mouth with the back of her arm when she was finished. Then, she disappeared into a hallway in the back.

I peered around the waiting room of borderline corpses. No one was coming for any of them. No one was left to help. We were on our own now, and Hannah deserved better than this. I couldn’t stay here and I wouldn’t leave without her, uncertain what would happen to her body or if I’d ever see her again.

Spotting an abandoned stretcher from the hallway, I went over to it, grabbed hold, using it to brace me up in my daze, and wheeled it into the room where my wife and child lay. I pushed it up beside the operating table, forcing thoughts of insanity aside as I tried to validate what I was doing, taking a dead body from the hospital—two bodies. I stared down at Hannah’s beautiful face, remembering the way her golden eyes smiled, even when she was trying to be serious, and the way her eyebrow lifted ever so slightly when she really meant business. I committed it all to memory, praying the day never came that the memory faded.

Then, clenching my jaw, I gathered her body into my arms and placed her on the gurney. It was impossible to ignore the blood staining the white sheets, so I grabbed a clean one from the cupboard and draped it over her, hoping it would help me forget, but it didn’t.

When she was on the gurney, I pulled the sheet up higher, covering her shoulders and then her face, and strapped her body in. The significance of what was happening poked holes in the failing armor I grasped onto. I needed to do this. I needed to get out of here; I just needed to be strong a little while longer.

Rallying what remained of my fortitude, I turned to the incubator. It was essentially a shoebox housing a newborn corpse swaddled in linen, and knowing it would break the very last pieces of my heart, I reached in and gathered Molly into my arms. I drew her to my chest, holding her for the first time.

Fearing I would regret not seeing her at least once, I peeled the layers around Molly’s face back, even if it was only to say goodbye. My hands shook and my lungs constricted as I peered down at her. Her eyes were closed. Her nose was tiny, and her cheeks were chubby. She was perfect—tiny—but perfect. She was my daughter, the only one I would ever have, and I never got to meet her.

Our little miracle. She was probably gone before Hannah could take her last breath.

Eyes blurred with tears, I lifted her closer and kissed her tiny forehead. “Goodbye, little one,” I choked out. Then I placed her in the crook of her mother’s arm, wishing I could join them.

* * *

“10-33, we have a 5150 at The Gardens. Are you still in the area?”

Sitting in the truck outside my house, I listened to the dispatcher’s voice over the radio. She requested one unit after the other and no one responded. It was nearly eight o’clock in the morning and the sky would be dark for another couple hours still. The snow had let up though.

I glanced around at the quiet street.

“Unit 33, come in. Over.”

Hands shaking with rage, and vision blurred with tears, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Ross. I’d never heard back from him. I didn’t know if he was okay, and even if he were, he wouldn’t be for very long after I gave him the news.

I squeezed my eyes shut and told myself to prepare for the worst, so I was glad when the call went straight to voicemail. I tried Hannah’s parents next, my fingers pulling up their number without thinking much more about it. It needed to be done. It was that simple. The call went straight to the operator. “We’re sorry, your call cannot go through. Please try your call again later.”

“All units,” the dispatcher’s voice came through the radio again, but I tuned her out, dropped my phone on the console and forced myself to open the driver door. Hannah deserved more than this, she needed to be at peace, and I needed to be the one to make that happen.

Body stiff and my mind not nearly numb enough, I got out of the truck, welcoming the 7˚F windchill that accosted me. Trudging through the snow to the other side of the truck, I braced myself to take Hannah and the baby in my arms once again. Hannah’s body felt heavier than before, my legs less steady. My strength drained from me with each step toward the house.

But still, I hesitated at the stoop, staring at the door handle. The last time I carried her through this doorway we’d just bought the house and had spent our last ten dollars cash on burgers from Bud’s in celebration.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I could almost smell the scent of her amber perfume mingling with French fries.

I wouldn’t walk into an empty house this time. There would be blood, probably signs of the struggle. And there would be evidence and clues. For the first time, my sadness was overshadowed with rage, and a small, minuscule part of me bloomed with optimism and retribution.

As Hannah grew heavier in my arms, I ignored the churning in my stomach at what was to come, and turned the unlocked handle and stepped inside. Fleetingly, I knew I needed to thank Mr. Hutton for doing what he could to save Hannah, and I would ask him what information he had that would help me in the process—if he was even still alive.

I bit my lip and peered around the living room. It was trashed, but the flat screen was still there, so was the computer on the desk. My cop mind inventoried everything as I walked over to the couch and laid Hannah’s body down, the baby with her, and my muscles felt an instant reprieve. I unfolded Hannah’s favorite blanket from the back of the couch and placed it over their bodies.

The scanner on the bookshelf against the wall went off, and amidst my numb mind, I heard another 5150 call and the victim being DOA, and that’s when I made the connection.

Blinded by a frenzied understanding, I headed down the hallway, straight for the bedroom. The blue comforter was perfectly made, and nothing was out of place, save for my gun locker, which was shot open. My 12-gauge and .22 were missing. A few bullets were strewn on the ground, but the boxes of ammo were gone. Whoever broke into my house was willing to leave a pregnant woman for dead just to have them.

I kicked the locker with a roar and pounded on the wall so hard my fist went through it; the pain replaced the hurt for a single second, but it was enough. I cursed. I kicked. I wailed. The intruder was someone who knew I was a cop and would have guns. They had to have known.

I stomped back down the hall, so close to the edge I could feel myself teetering between recklessness and all-out fury. I would find the person who did this, but I wouldn’t kill them. I would do something much, much worse. But when I saw the bloody skid marks in the kitchen and a lifeless male form, my feet would no longer move. My breath caught in my throat.

A tuft of red hair tumbled across the tiled floor in the wake of my footsteps, and I eyed the man’s knotted, shoulder length hair and torn long-sleeve shirt. I flipped him onto his back; his brown eyes open and glazed over, his cheeks lined with dried blood and a fingernail slash. It was Charlie, a man who lived a few houses down and owned a tree service I’d inquired about a few years back. He had a bullet wound in his chest.

She’d fought back.

Hannah had told me years ago she’d never remember the code to the gun safe because she would never use it. I wanted her to be able to protect herself, so I put a revolver in the most obscure, accessible place I could imagine—the top shelf in the pantry.

I strode across the kitchen, feeling a strange sense of relief, and I opened the floor-to-ceiling cupboard. The gun was gone, the cloth it was wrapped in discarded under my boot. The revolver hadn’t saved her life, but it had given her a fighting chance.

The images came fast and hard; Hannah’s surprise in seeing him, her fear and inevitable pleas as she covered her belly, and her determination to protect our child until her dying breath. Alone, with no husband to protect her, she’d given him hell and took him down with her.

Insurmountable pride and regret filled every inch of me. Then came anguish.

I kicked Charlie’s body, shouting and cursing him until I couldn’t hold myself up anymore and fell against the side of the fridge. The guns were gone, but the door was unlocked and anyone could’ve taken them. Even Mr. Hutton might have, if he were smart.

Tremors shimmied up my leg and rattled the retribution loose. Hannah killed him and in doing so she took the revenge holding me together. I couldn’t punish him because he was already dead. Impending recklessness and despair circled me, like vultures waiting to feast.

I’d done so well because of her, I’d become the man she saw in me the first day we met. But I hadn’t been here to save her, and without her I wasn’t strong enough to be the man she’d want me to be now.

I climbed to my feet, stepping through the blood as I reached for the handle of tequila in the cupboard above the fridge.

I couldn’t get the cap off fast enough before I brought the bottle to my lips, heavy and full as it was. I was a drunk, and I’d always be one. I think those were my dad’s words the day I swore I’d never confide in him again.

I took one swig after another, desperate to numb the pain, until I could no longer breathe and had to stop to catch my breath.

The bottle hung at my side, my heart pounding in my chest and the familiar warmth of liquid-oblivion coursing through me. A small voice somewhere told me I should call Ross again, or try to find him. But he was probably dead, or sick and would be soon.

I flicked on the porch light and stared out at the backyard, covered in snow. The only thing visible aside from the fence was the spruce where Hannah had asked me to hang a swing. “It will be perfect in the spring and summer. I can rock her back and forth by the garden.” I hadn’t had the heart to tell her she never had a green thumb.

The scanner continued to click and buzz incessantly in the living room.

I took another slug from the bottle. Then another. I drank until my throat was raw and it felt like I’d burned the sickness stewing inside me away. Then I turned back to the couch where Hannah lay. Did I bury her in the frozen ground or sit with her until I drank myself to death? Ross wasn’t around to ask; I was alone.

When the scanner went off again, I set the tequila down on the table with a clunk and pulled the radio off the bookshelf, smashing it over the back of the dining room chair to silence it permanently.

Taking another swig from the bottle, I let the fear and sorrow overwhelm me until I could no longer see through body-wracking sobs and a veil of tears. I had a long night ahead of me, followed by an excruciating forever.

December 10

Elle

December 10

When I stirred from the fathoms of dreamless sleep, my body ached and what felt like a furnace burned in my core. My veins were like tunnels, blazing with fire.

The floor creaked somewhere in the house, and my murky thoughts sharpened as my eyes flew open.

It took a heartbeat to remember anything beyond the ache in my abdomen, tender from retching; my throat was raw and sweat covered my skin. But despite all of that, my body felt renewed, alive in a way it never had before. I stretched, waking my taut muscles from hibernation.

The pale blue promise of morning crested over the treetops, breaking up the dark shadows outside my bedroom window. It must’ve been nine or ten, if the sun was rising—unless it was sunset. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been out, but I recalled the bar and shots of whiskey. Big mistake.

I sat up with a groan, my head throbbing a little, and peered around my old bedroom. That was not how I’d seen the night playing out. I wasn’t even sure what day it was. It was as if I’d been asleep for ages, and yet my body felt like it had been only a matter of hours since I’d lurched over the toilet, puking my insides out.

The floor creaked again, somewhere in the living room and louder than before.

Dr. John’s face flashed to mind, but I pushed it away.

I heard the sound of a shoe scuff, loud and heavy.

Another creak.

Someone was in the house, and I braced myself for them to appear in the hallway outside my open door.

Trembling and weak, I held my breath and climbed as quietly from bed as I could. The rug was stiff beneath my bare feet, the cold air brushing over my warmed skin.

I stopped as the floorboards shifted beneath my feet, but there was no noise to follow, and no one appeared in my doorway. What were the chances it was Sandy Fields? She had a key. Or was it a random robbery, and they didn’t know I was here? I thought of the faces at the bar, and the men who might’ve followed me home.

The kitchen door leading out to the garage creaked open, and I heard a male voice muttering. It wasn’t Sandy Fields in the house.

Heartbeat skipping from a thud to a full on sprint, I scoured the morning shadows for my phone. A cold wave of dread washed over me when I saw my pants on the floor in the hallway, phone sticking out of my pocket, discarded in the craze of my fever. Shit. I always did that. I’d told myself it would fall out of my pocket one day into a toilet bowl and I would be sorry, but not as sorry as I was now, knowing someone was in my house and it was so far out of reach.

I stopped just shy of the doorway, shoring up my nerve to rush out and grab it before the intruder came back into the house. I could hear him rifling through the garage, looking for something. He was loud and careless, and I was thankful. I knew exactly where he was.

I peeked around the door frame. My pants were only a few feet away. If I didn’t grab my phone now, I might not get another chance. Exhaling, I dropped to my knees and crawled out into the hallway, praying he would stay in the garage a few minutes longer. I reached for my phone as a tall man with broad shoulders stepped back into the dining room, the threshold creaking under his weight. He was facing my direction as he peered frantically around. I didn’t dare move.

“Where is it!” he growled, and knocked an empty water pitcher off the table—the sound of shattering glass filled the house as it hit the ground.

My chin trembled, trying to see who it was in the morning shadows, uncertain why it mattered. I might’ve survived the fever simply to die at the will of a stranger.

As if something suddenly occurred to him, he lifted his head, facing me fully and headed right toward me. I swallowed a whimper, uncertain if he’d actually seen me. Then, he stopped mid-step, and I saw the recognition on his face.

“You!” he shouted. It was Thomas, the neighbor, only he was a menacing version whose eyes rounded, and he seethed when he spat my name. “Where did you hide it? I need it—now!”

I ran back into my room and slammed the door shut. My hands shook. My eyes blurred with fearful tears, and my mind screamed at me to do something as I glanced around the room.

Thomas’s footsteps were heavy and quick behind me, and without a chair to bolster beneath the doorknob, and the dresser on the other side of the room, I scrambled to find a solution. I yanked the metal curtain rod off the wall just as he barreled through the door.

“Get away from me!” I shouted, ramming him in the chest with the finial on the end.

He stumbled back, but then kept coming toward me. “Give me his medical bag you little bitch,” he ground out.

“It’s in his bedroom!” I shouted. It was a lie. I didn’t know where the hell it was or if Dr. John still had one.

“You’re lying—”

I jabbed him with the finial again, but it was like he couldn’t feel it, each blow only knocking him off balance for a millionth of a second before he was lunging at me again.

Desperate to hurt him enough to pass, I rammed him in the stomach and then the chest, until he tore the rod from my grip like he was unfazed and I was nothing more than an annoying wasp.

I ran for the lamp on the side table, ripping it out of the wall and threw it at him. Thomas stumbled back this time, onto my bed and I ran past him, gripping my phone in my hand and praying I could put enough distance between us to use it.

I’d only taken a few steps before something solid slammed into the back of my head, and I fell to the ground, a smarting pain shooting down my neck. Everything around me swirled, and I winced as my skull began to throb.

The vision of Thomas was a blur as he gripped hold of my shirt and rolled me onto my back. He wrapped his hands around my neck, making me gasp, and brought his nose within inches of mine. His hot breath pressed against my face as he shouted, only I couldn’t make out the words. They boomed and blared, but his grip was too tight. My body began to burn so intensely I thought I might implode. I gulped for air and hit my fists against his arms and face, but it was pointless. His grip was ironclad—crunching my windpipe—and my vision began to gray.

Thomas was killing me.

The heat was alive inside of me. It blazed and flickered against my skin, trying to get out as he smashed my head on the hardwood floor.

This could not be my end. Dying at the hands of a man in a place I swore I’d never return? I hadn’t gone through years of therapy to come back and die in this godforsaken house.

Resolve turned to hardened clarity, and I used every ounce of energy flickering inside me and lunged for Thomas’s throat. Every muscle in my body lit like fire, coursing with an unbridled strength I’d never felt before. Every cell was alive and pulsating as I clutched his neck in my hands, unable to stop myself from squeezing. I was a forge of red-hot hatred, and tears stung my eyes. Fire burned in the tips of my fingers, and my body shook with a fury that scorched away every lingering fear.

“Screw . . . you,” I choked out, half in shock as I felt the power in me surge.

Thomas let go of my neck and hit at my hands as I squeezed tighter—grew stronger. The fire inside stirred, blooming in the depths of me, and I felt it leave my body with a final squeeze. Thomas’s eyes widened and bulged. His face reddened and his tongue fell from his mouth as he let out one last, silent scream.

As he gurgled his last breath, I shut my eyes. My muscles deflated as the last of the energy flowed from my fingers. Then, I curled into a ball and cried.

* * *

I peeled my eyes open to the brightness of day and stared up at the taupe ceiling. My head was pounding, but my body felt lighter. The heaviness was gone, so was the heat.

Jolting upright, I saw the dead man wilted beside me. Thomas’s eyes were still open; his mouth was agape. There were burn marks the shape of fingers around his neck, and I clasped my hands over my mouth and scurried backward until I was flush against the wall. Shaking.

He was dead, and I had killed him.

I stared down at my trembling hands. What had I done? What could I do?

Tears filled my eyes as I tried to bite back the impending sobs. I’d never killed anyone before. I had ended a human life with my hands. I turned my palms over, scouring them for burn marks, fisting my fingers, searching for the fire I’d felt consume me—every fiber, every inch. It was impossible. And yet somewhere deep down, I could still feel it writhing inside me.

I looked at Thomas again; emotions clamoring through me, exacting whatever pieces of my sanity were left. Fear. Regret. Confusion. Relief. He was going to kill me and I’d killed him first. I killed him. My fingerprints were seared around his neck to prove it.

Staring at my hands, I tried to understand. They were just hands with fingers, like they’d always been, and they were unscathed.

I glanced from the burn marks on Thomas’s neck to my hands, remembering the euphoric release as the fire, scorching within me, leached from my fingertips. Then, I turned to the side and retched.

10

Jackson

December 10

There was movement in the darkness—a rustling, a jolting.

My mind stirred as my body shook. No, I was being shaken.

I smelled the stench of decay before I registered the blunt fingertips at my waist, and my eyes flew open.

A hulking form crouched beside me, tugging at my belt.

“What the fuck—” I jerked away, my body stiff and sore as I reached for my holstered gun, but it was too late. It was already in the man’s hand.

“I can’t,” he muttered through chapped lips, peering down at the gun in his shaking hands.

“What?” I scrambled back as he tightened his grip on the Glock. His blonde hair was matted to the side of his head, his body covered in a sheen of sweat. “Put the gun down,” I told him. “Put it down.” Even in a liquor-induced coma, I could find my voice. “Sir—put it down,” I said more calmly, but my insides were screaming. My muscles were weak and my head was throbbing. I willed myself to focus. “You can have anything you want in here—you want more guns? I’ll get you more guns.”

The man shook his head, tears streaming down his ruddy cheeks. He looked no older than I was.

“I can’t,” he cried. He aimed the barrel at me. I’d had a gun pulled on me before, but never my own. Never had I been so close I could see the yellow flecks against the blue in the eyes of my assailant. “I just can’t.” His eyes met mine with finality. “I can’t stop it. I can’t stop any of it!” He gripped the gun more firmly.

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. He would kill me. I didn’t need the virus to kill me or to drink myself to death; the lunatic sitting on my living room floor would do it for me. I’d wanted to die and now I was getting my wish.

Even so, my instinct was to flee, to talk him down and save my skin. I lifted my hands, no longer stupefied, but afraid. “You don’t want to do this, man.”

His gaze shifted from the gun to me—he looked through me. “I have to,” he wheezed. The saliva was white and gathered in the corners of his mouth, and he was ill, unlike anything I’d ever seen. “It’s the voice!” he cried, making me jump. “I have to.”

“Put the gun down, man. I’m a state trooper, bad things will happen if you shoot me.”

The man laughed, the sound reverberating through the house, vaguely reminding me how empty the place was, how cold. “There’s nothing you can do,” he said.

Before I could process anything else, he pressed the pistol beneath his chin and pulled the trigger.

I doubled over and covered my ears too late against the ear-splitting bang. “Shit,” I hissed, blinking as the room spun and the sound reverberated through my body, concussive and visceral.

Heaving out a breath, I grabbed the gun from his slack hold and slid it across the room, backing away as fast as I could. I stopped only when my back slammed into the wall, and I blinked.

I stared at the dead man on my floor and ran my hand over my face and through my hair. Brains splattered the wall—brains and blood dripping onto the floor. I’d seen gunshot wounds and fatal motorcycle accidents; I’d seen what an overdose looked like—puke and needles and blood. But this was different—this was my home, this was my life—and bile rose up my throat faster than I could scramble to the door.

I was barely on the porch when I doubled over and hurled everything out over the railing. The tequila burned my nose and throat, my muscles twisted, and my eyes watered as I heaved out a steadying breath. What the fuck just happened? I wiped the moisture from my eyes and spit the remnants of vomit from my throat as I sat down on the porch step.

I dragged a chestful of air into my lungs, then another, and stared out at a world of white. The snow had stopped, but not before the roads were piled high and abandoned. My street was eerily quiet. The neighbor’s front door creaked open and shut with the breeze. There was no residual noise from the overpass ten blocks down, no engines roaring in the distance or horns honking. There were no birds chirping. I peered up at the leafless trees that lined my street. It felt as though I was the last person left. Chills trickled down my spine as gray daylight filtered through the clouds.

I glanced at my truck in the driveway and did a double take. It was beaten to hell; the windows were smashed and the side paneling was dented, like someone had come at it with a sledgehammer.

Gritting my teeth, I rose with achy knees and retreated back into the house, prepared to shoot the man on the floor again, just for good measure. That changed the instant I stumbled and stopped beside Hannah’s covered body.

Part of me needed to remove the blanket to prove she was still there, but I hesitated. Hours of oblivion had come at a price—I had no idea how much time had passed or what it had done to her.

What would she look like? Worse wasn’t how I wanted to remember her. But the part of me desperate to discover it was all a dream couldn’t resist. As I inched the blanket back, her dappled skin sent my pulse racing and my heartbeat thrashed in my ears.

I dropped the blanket again. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t look at her, but I couldn’t move her body either. Where would I take it? What would I do with it when I got there?

Unsteadily, I began to pace. Two break-ins. Too many deaths. The world was silent, and the news was right. It was the end. It was the fucking end, and I needed protection. I needed answers too. Where was Ross? Where were Kelsey and my dad? I couldn’t be the only one left, even if the world seemed to be standing still.

I stared at the dead body on the living room floor. Even if the madness was following me everywhere I turned, I couldn’t be the only one left. I looked at the body in the kitchen. If I did nothing, soon it would be impossible to stay.

Forcing my mind to forget the hangover or sickness, whichever it was, I went to the closet and pulled out a set of sheets. Not the Egyptian cotton ones that were Hannah’s favorite, but the old ones I used to have in my old apartment that we never used.

I covered the man in the living room first, unable to stomach the hole in his head. Then covered the rotting man in the kitchen. In a matter of hours, our home had become a crypt, a lonely, condemned house, and I couldn’t stay here anymore. I grabbed what was left of the tequila, walked to the sliding glass door, and peered out at the backyard. This is where Hannah would want to rest.

I took a long pull from the bottle, and set it down again. Uncertain where I’d left my phone, I headed to the bedroom for Hannah’s on the charger on the bedside table. Seven missed calls from Ross. The tension in my neck eased slightly, and I almost laughed. The son of a bitch might still be alive.

I clicked his number to call him back, but it went straight to voicemail again. I hung up and called again. Then again before I finally left a message. “Ross . . . If you’re alive, I need to talk to you. I’m at the house . . . you should come.” My throat swelled with regret. “At least call me back as soon as you can.” Biting back the tears, I exhaled a ragged breath. “I hope you’re okay, brother,” I said, then I hung up.

Hastily wiping the tears from my eyes, I called 9-1-1 to report the bodies on my living room floor, but the line only rang. I tried the police department next, the menu giving me too many extensions—none of which worked—before I ended the call and strode back out to the living room. My wife and child were dead on my couch. Two intruders were rotting on my floor. And I was running out of time and options.

Imagining Hannah and Molly in a hole in the ground shredded me, but I would do what I had to.

I would find a place to take the bodies, clean up the house, and then I would bury my family in the backyard. After that, I would drink myself into oblivion and find Ross, if I hadn’t heard back from him by then.

December 11

11

Elle

December 11

“Elle, I missed your calls, I’m sorry. But—look, I know you’re going to look for me, but don’t. Okay? I’m . . . not well—just, don’t come to Whitely, okay? It’s not safe.”

I’d missed a call from Jenny somewhere between the bar and waking up shaking and half-naked on my bedroom floor after crying myself to sleep. Every ounce of energy had been drained from me, just like Thomas’s body, still crumpled beside me on the floor when I’d opened my eyes. It hadn’t been a nightmare.

I stared at my closed bedroom door, chewing on the broken skin on my bottom lip.

Don’t come to Whitely.

Jenny’s message was eerily calm despite her being sick, perhaps on the verge of death. It made me think she might be okay. I was okay, wasn’t I?

I thought of Thomas’s burned neck and studied my hands for the hundredth time. I was alive anyway. I pushed the growing hysteria as deep down as it would go. There was a logical explanation for all of this.

My hands were still normal, my fingers wiggling and my skin unchanged—I could almost convince myself the night of terror was only a hallucination caused by the fever, that it hadn’t actually happened. Or maybe I was just losing my mind. It wouldn’t be that surprising.

Yet, when I cracked opened the door, Thomas was still there. A lifeless mound I couldn’t bear to see, covered by a blanket. I shut the door again, staring at it. I could feel it inside of me still—the fire—moving around like some foreign being was crawling beneath the skin, only it was electrified, an incessant, dull hum.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I exhaled. Jenny was my focus, not what partial memories lingered from my fever-induced haze.

The sound of an explosion emanated from the television in the living room, and I abandoned my useless pacing outside the bedroom door to watch the news footage. The afternoon gray filtered in through the windows and filled the house, still in disarray from the morning.

“—video came in last night,” the male voiceover explained. “Chief Gonzalez, of the Alaska State Troopers, says the lack of a police force in such a remote, expansive state has always been an obstacle, making the average response time outside of the city between fifteen and thirty minutes. But this . . .” The camera swept up and down a cluttered, downtown street, eerily devoid of traffic. Two vandals wearing black clothes and Halloween masks ran in and out of the frame, between buildings and around abandoned vehicles.

“And here is viewer footage from somewhere in the Government Hill neighborhood.” The screen cut to suburbs where an abandoned car in the middle of the road was covered in an inch of snow with the shape of a body still inside. “Please be advised, this is unedited and possibility disturbing footage,” the news anchor said, his voice grim. The images changed from one neighborhood to the next. “Viewer discretion is advised.”

Another video flashed onto the screen, of a house across the street being filmed through the window.

“There’ve been gunshots inside for the last twenty minutes. I don’t know if it’s Jim or Barbara—they’ve always been nice people.” The woman’s voice cracked, and I leaned forward, holding my breath as I closely watched the house cast in dying sunlight, uncertain what would come next. My heart thumped once, then again, and then a gunshot and flash of light lit the screen.

I jumped where I stood and covered my mouth.

“Oh my God.” The woman behind the camera whimpered. “I don’t know what’s going on over there.” The footage shook as she broke into a coughing fit. “I called the troopers, but no one’s come yet. I keep thinking it’s too late—I mean, what do they keep shooting at?” She cleared her throat, her breaths asthmatic and shallow.

The lights in the room flashed on and she squealed. “Turn the lights off, Eddy!” They flicked off almost immediately and a little boy whined. “Go back into the room. Close the door—go!”

The camera whirled as she hurried around, coughing and shepherding the boy into the hallway, until she went back to the window, coughed, and refocused with another shallow breath.

“My husband took our car to work this morning, and I haven’t heard from him since.” She sniffled. “The troopers have to come—they have to, right?” The little boy began to cry in the background. The woman cursed, shrieking for him to be quiet before the video went black.

“Footage has been sent into KTUU from around the city. And while some Alaskan citizens are trying to flee, others are preparing to hunker down and wait it out.”

A man in a hockey mask flashed on the screen. “We knew it would come to this, inevitably,” he said, severe as he rested his elbows on his knees. He leaned closer to the camera, peering around at a storage room I couldn’t make out. “You’ll get supplies and prepare for the worst, if you want to survive. No one is coming for us. We’re on our own. It’s the end of the twenty-first century as we know it.” Suddenly, the man’s eyes widened with excitement. “Survival of the fittest!” After a hoorah and a fist pump, the screen went black.

Finally, a cell phone recording scanned a large room in what looked like a hospital, overwhelmed with sickness. “The number of dead world-wide is unknown, but unofficial reports claim more than half of the United States is infected. The Coast Guard is blockading all ports to prohibit further spread of the deadly virus. Since the Governor’s ESA on Tuesday—”

I clicked the television off. There was nothing left inside of me to throw up, and every clip was the same. Each one made the dread knot tighter inside my stomach. Each new face and disturbing story was a blaring taunt that if the fever didn’t get me, someone else likely would.

I got it, we were fucked, and I had to figure out what I would do before I let it all implode and fear prevented me from getting to Jenny. She was all I had left, and she was in Whitely. My sister needed me.

Glancing at my bedroom door, I told myself that Thomas was dead; there was nothing I could do about him, not anymore, and if I continued to wait for 9-1-1 or someone to arrive, it could be too late for Jenny.

I walked to the French doors facing the deck and stared out at the world shrouded in white, the grim sky promising a storm. Whatever I decided to do, I had to keep going. If I stayed here much longer, I might not be able to leave.

When Dr. Rothman encouraged me to return home, I don’t think she’d expected this. Was she even still alive? I hoped so. She never wore a wedding band, but I hoped she wasn’t completely and utterly alone, like I was. Except for Jenny. Whitely was only a few hours away; I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try to make it to her.

Decision made, I plopped down on the couch and pulled on my boots. Her living in such a small, remote town had to have some advantages. Maybe it meant the fever would pass quickly and by tomorrow night Jenny and I would be passed out on the couch, bored out of our minds and watching black and white movies, like we used to. My heart ached with hope, even if I knew full well that wasn’t likely.

It took only minutes to pack my things strewn around the living room, but I knew I’d need what few clothes I had. Donning my scarf and parka, I flung open the front door. The instant I saw old Olive covered in snow, I knew it would be impossible to get to Whitely if I didn’t have a better vehicle.

I peered over my shoulder at the garage door. Dr. John used to have a Bronco—one that rumbled and grumbled like it could take on anything. Turning on my heels, I headed across the house, wheeling my small luggage behind me.

Relief eased the tension in my shoulders when I saw the old Bronco was still inside. I snatched the only keys on the hook beside the door and stepped down into the mess Thomas had left in his search for the medical bag. I had no idea what he’d wanted it for, but he was crazed enough to try to kill me in order to get it.

Stepping over the hammer, nails, and different-sized screws strewn across the ground, I clutched a corner of the car cover and flung it up and over the Bronco. It was just as mean looking as I remembered it. The black paint sparkled, even in the dingy garage light, and the mud tires looked like they could chew up anything that came their way. I almost thanked Dr. John for such a glorious, unexpected gift.

As I walked around the front of the Bronco, tugging the cover the rest of the way off, I debated calling the police again, but it was clear they weren’t coming, not soon anyway. Not after what I’d seen on the news.

I opened the driver side door and paused. I might’ve had good intentions going to find Jenny, but after what I’d seen on TV, other people clearly didn’t, and I hadn’t spent the last year with Dr. Rothman working on my needlepoint. She’d helped me work through sexual abuse, abandonment, being victimized, and all the crap that fell in between. I wasn’t going to forget all of that now.

Peering through the passenger side window, I stared at Dr. John’s gun safe against the farthest wall. Like most Alaskans, he enjoyed his seasonal hunting trips, and how stupid would I be to go out there into the madness without a way to protect myself? I could use a gun, even if I hoped I wouldn’t need to.

My feet didn’t wait for me to contemplate any of it. I had no idea what I would find in the safe, but if there was anything inside, I would take it. I expected to find his old shotgun and some bullets, maybe. If I was lucky, he’d have a handgun in there too.

I spun the combination lock, assuming his tendencies hadn’t changed, and I was right. One perk of having twin stepdaughters, Dr. John didn’t have to choose which birthday combo he’d use.

When the door creaked open, I let out a breath of relief. His 20-gauge stood tall, shiny and clean, but it was the smaller case and the ammo box that made me smile. I set the gun case on the worktable and flipped it open to find a Glock 17. A sigh of relief escaped my throat, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I closed the gun case and walked back to the Bronco, snatching the box of ammo along the way. My day was getting better already.

12

Jackson

December 11

“I regret to tell you that as of midnight on the 10th of December, over 80 percent of the world’s population has been reported or is assumed dead. It is estimated that the death toll will continue to climb. This news is devastating, I know, but all is not lost.”

I broke the rest of my Ford’s busted window out as the president yammered on, her voice more white noise against the bone-chilling wind, turning what few parts of me weren’t marinated in tequila to ice. Maybe another drink would remedy that. I glanced at the bottle belted in the seat next to me, making a mental note to stop at the store at some point to grab some bourbon, my trusty old friend. Moving the bodies and cleaning the blood from the house was a haze. Good. I had bloodstained hands as proof it wasn’t just a horrific dream and that was enough.

“Some of us are surviving. This is how we will fight our enemy—by not giving up, by being resilient and resourceful, by surviving. We are not a species that will go out quietly, so I task those of you who are still alive with one essential purpose: live.”

“Shit.” I swerved around a Nissan stopped in the middle of the road that seemed to come out of nowhere. I’d only seen two other cars in motion, and with vehicles scattered everywhere—some abandoned, others mausoleums—it was easy to forget that someone else might be on the road, or that I wasn’t actually the last person alive.

I blasted through a red light and turned onto Elmore Road. The American and Alaskan flags flapped half-staff in the oncoming storm as I drew closer to the police department.

I might’ve been drunk, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew that the instant I decided to step out of my police vehicle, especially one battered to shit that looked stolen, I was probably barbecue. To anyone inside, I’d look either crazy in my blood-covered uniform, or like a threat. And it was clear the world didn’t care about the rules and repercussions much anymore.

Everything was falling apart. The world had fucking lost it—I had fucking lost it laying Hannah and Molly to rest in their grave.

I pulled the truck to a stop out front of the building and hesitated to get out. Not because I cared what would happen once I did, but because I feared what I would find inside. An empty place with no sign of Ross or any other familiar, friendly face still breathing. I thought of the inconsolable man hovering over me when I woke. How many others were like that? Was anyone I knew still alive?

It didn’t feel like it. Ross’s townhouse had been empty with no signs of a struggle and no note. The APD was my last hope.

Unbuckling the tequila, I lifted what remained of the contents and took a gulp. I wasn’t quite drunk enough to start spiraling yet. I took one pull, then another, eyeing the darkened windows for signs of life. On any other Friday I might’ve stopped by to harass Ross still stuck in his office, filing reports and making follow-up calls to eyewitnesses and bereft families. Today, I just prayed he was there.

I pushed the driver side door open and stepped out of the truck, my jacket catching in the wind. The afternoon was darkening to evening, and soon there would be only a whirl of white.

The longer I stood there, the more quickly my buzz diminished. Unclipping my pistol from my belt, I slowly made my way toward the front door. Footprints were visible in the snow, coming and going from the entrance, though it was hard to make heads or tails of them packed on top of one another. My gut told me someone was inside, but I would find out for sure soon enough.

Aiming my Glock, I pulled the door open and stepped inside, then swept the room to my right. An acerbic scent took me aback, followed by a growl that reverberated from down the hall behind me.

“Drop the gun, asshole!” A familiar voice warned.

With an audible breath, I smiled. “Does your mother let you talk to her with that mouth?” I turned around, ecstatic tears in my eyes.

“Jackson—Jesus.” Ross barreled over and wrapped his arms around me. “You’re alive, you lucky son of a bitch,” he breathed. He took a step back as his shadowed blue eyes scoured my face.

“Where have you been?” I asked. “I tried calling you back.”

Ross shook his head and put his hands on his hips. He was still suited up in his blues like me, and he looked haggard, also like me, but other than the dark circles under his eyes and some scruff, he looked like the same ol’ Ross. He wasn’t senseless, just sleep deprived, and I would’ve wept if I had any tears left in me.

“I’d been passed out in my office up until about an hour ago. I woke up to Drago’s nose in my crotch.” He glanced at the German shepherd licking my hand. “My phone’s in my truck, I guess. Probably dead.” He shook his head, his brow quirked with uncertainty. “I’ve been a little out of it the past couple days. I wasn’t sure I was going to get through that fever. It’s all sort of a blur.”

I peered down at the dog sniffing my boots. “Where’s Calvin?” I asked. Drago never left his partner’s side.

“No clue. On patrol, at home—dead.” He shrugged, his confusion a relief after wondering if I’d ever see him again. “I don’t remember if he was here when I stopped in to puke my brains out or not.” He looked squarely at me. “There are bodies in the back. Demetri, Steph, Barnes . . . I was moving them out of their offices when Drago growled at you coming in. I figured I should cover them up or—” He shook his head. “I don’t know what to do with them. I don’t know what we’re supposed to do.” He nodded to the break room. “Have you seen the news?”

I shook my head. I didn’t need to see the news. I’d seen enough with my own eyes to know we were up shit creek. A soundless police department with blinking overhead lights and the scent of bile in the air was only a reminder.

“I turned it on to another ESA saying we’re fucked and to shelter in place. What the shit is that going to do?”

I stood quietly and listened as he processed what I already had.

Ross crouched down and ran his hands over his buzzed head, scrubbing and scrubbing until I thought he might rub his scalp raw. Then, he stopped and peered up at me. “The quarantine came too late. We might be up here in our own piece of winter wonderland, but all those ships coming in every day, all those tourists—that shit has spread like wildfire.”

He walked to the phone at the reception desk and pounded on the keys as he brought the receiver to his ear. “Shelter in place, my ass.” He grumbled something else and shook his head again. “I’ve tried calling Kelsey a hundred times in the last twenty minutes. I need to go to Fairbanks and check on her, she’s staying with her mom. I have to know if she’s all right.”

“Then you should go,” I told him. It was the only thing that would give him peace, and maybe, he’d be luckier than I was.

Waiting with his ear to the phone, he peered at me through dark eyes that were rimmed with red and swollen from too much sleep. I knew his question was coming; it was only a matter of time, and I averted my gaze.

He slammed the phone down when there was no answer, weary, and stepped back around the desk. His eyes narrowed and he scratched the side of his face, slack-jawed and staring at me. Then, he leaned closer and sniffed. “Are you drunk?” His eyes landed on the blood on my sleeves, like his relief in seeing me was beginning to fade away and he was finally seeing me for the first time. He stared at my untucked lapel and scruffy face. My hair was shaggy compared to his, but then it always was. I was a rebel that way.

I don’t know what else he saw, but his back straightened and his jaw clenched. “I went by your house that morning,” he said, hesitant. “After we heard the report I wanted to check on Hannah, but she wasn’t there—no one was, only a body.” I watched with bated breath as his memories from before the fever fell back into place. “I checked Regional and Providence—she wasn’t at any of the hospitals—”

I shook my head. “No, she wasn’t.”

“Where’s Hannah, Jackson?” he croaked. “Where’s my sister?”

My chin trembled as I grappled with the words. “She’s gone.”

13

Elle

December 11

Traffic was fine leaving Anchorage, until the highway took me right over downtown, where the shipyard barricades brought traffic to a complete stop. I stopped behind the biggest mass of cars I’d ever seen.

The Coast Guard had done what they’d said they would and blocked off the Port of Alaska. I could see the barges and tankers docked as I drove around stopped vehicles on the overpass. Shipping containers were suspended in midair, abandoned. And yet with all the congestion stretched out in front of me, everything was strangely still. Traffic was a gridlock. Very few officials manned the barricades below; a few flares flickered in the dying daylight.

I rested my elbow on the door, rubbed my temple, and heaved out a sigh. I was never a patient person, but this was excruciating. I was stuck in a sea of taillights and white puffs of air streaming from tailpipes. No one was moving.

I peered longingly at the other side of the highway. There was no traffic. No one was trying to get into the city; everyone was trying to get out. I was tempted to bust through whatever barrier was covered by the snow and continue south.

The Bronco’s heater hissed, and the fuel gage sunk to less than half, and I still had fifty miles until Whitely, according to my phone’s GPS. Honking would do no good, and waiting wasn’t an option.

Leaning over the passenger seat, I strained to see down at the Corolla in the next lane. A woman in the driver seat had her head back on the seat rest, her eyes were wide, and her mouth was gaping.

I blinked. Swallowed. I sucked in a breath. Then, prying my eyes from the second dead body I’d ever seen in my life, I looked out at the sea of vehicles. This wasn’t a traffic jam, it was a graveyard. I didn’t know how many of the drivers were dead or just slow to catch on, like me, but I wasn’t going to sit among them a second longer, regardless.

I glanced around, feeling like a rebel as I contemplated what to do next. Whether I backed up or found another way off the overpass, I would be breaking a dozen laws. But then I’d already committed worse than reckless driving today.

Shifting the Bronco into four-wheel drive, I cranked the steering wheel left and inched my way up the median. The Bronco protested in the thick, unmanned snow, but I was up and over it in seconds.

Fleetingly, I worried I would get pulled over and would have to pay a massive fine I wouldn’t be able to afford, or worse, I’d be arrested and Jenny would think I’d never tried to come. But the further I drove without sirens and troopers to stop me, the faster I went until the city was lost behind me and the highway opened up with only a few cars parked on the roads. None of them moved.

I’d known things were bad, but I hadn’t expected the world to be stopped all around me. Was anyone alive on the roads? I couldn’t bear to look, so I kept my eyes forward as I hauled ass to Whitely.

The coastguardsmen at the docks might’ve been the only other people alive, other than me. While that didn’t seem logical, nothing much did anymore, and I’d tried not to think about any of it. Between getting to Jenny and failing to ignore the deep burn in my blood, my thoughts were plenty occupied. I flexed my hands on the steering wheel.

Minutes went by. Then what felt like hours.

Finally, I turned onto the frontage road toward Whitely. I half expected them to glow red through the quilted fabric. No matter how much I tried to tell myself it was a freak accident or twisted memory, the fire was back. I could feel it stirring in my veins, bubbling up from somewhere I couldn’t fathom.

My nostrils flared. I gritted my teeth. I steadied my breathing.

I’d done everything I could to push the burn away and write it off the first time. I wanted it to be part of the fever—a fluke nightmare with some rational explanation I was too incoherent to remember. I took a deep breath in, held it, then exhaled the tension coiling in my arms and shoulders. As the Whitely Tunnel came into view ahead, I realized it was all that was left between my sister and me. I glanced up at the sky and the black clouds settling in. I didn’t know what I would find in Whitely, but I couldn’t go back in the oncoming storm. I wouldn’t go back.

Entering the tunnel, dimly lit by blinking lights, I followed the one lane road under the mountain. It was the only way to get to the secluded city.

To tune out my escalating panic, I clicked the radio on, hoping for more news about the lower forty-eight. I needed something else to think about. I needed news about a cure or where people were retreating to for safety, something to give me hope. Maybe they’d discovered it was all an elaborate hoax, like Orson Welles’ radiobroadcast of “War of the Worlds,” which had caused a widespread panic.

I turned the dial, wading through one static-filled station after another.

“—enemy has swept through every nation, attacking discretely, killing indiscriminately.” Eyes wide, I looked from the road to the familiar female voice on the radio. “We lost thousands before we even knew we were under attack. Many have already fallen, and many more will fall. But we cannot give up the fight.” I nearly forgot to breathe as I processed what she was saying.

Under attack? Was the president saying she thought it was chemical warfare? I considered Russia and Iran, but neither made sense. The outbreak was worldwide; millions of people were dying. No, billions of people were already dead.

“Over the past century, through technological achievements, we made our world smaller. We made the time it takes to communicate across oceans instantaneous, and the time it takes to travel those same routes nearly as fast. We made our world smaller, and in doing so, we sowed the seeds of our own destruction: a global pandemic.”

I gripped the steering wheel more tightly, grateful for the dull light at the end of the cement tunnel. If the president was alive, that meant she had a plan. She would figure something out eventually. I just had to stay alive and find Jenny in the meantime.

I pressed my lips together. My sister would be on the other side of the tunnel. She had to be.

“Survive. Thrive.” The president continued, urging listeners to pray for guidance. “Learn from our mistakes. Let the world remain big. And most importantly, live.” The broadcast petered out and static returned.

I scrambled for the volume. “Shit.” That couldn’t be all. I turned the station dial maniacally, trying to find something else—more information, anything.

What were we supposed to do next? I glanced furtively between the road and the radio. “What the hell are we supposed to do?” I shouted at the president.

A bank of snow threatened to block the end of the tunnel, but I could see Jenny’s complex a few miles in the distance, ugly, towering, and ominous, yet somehow a beacon. I plowed through the snow, shifting the old Bronco into four-wheel drive again. I wasn’t taking any chances. But just as I was through the mound of snow, I ran over something, and my head crashed into the window.

“Shit!” I hissed, cupping my ear. I slammed on the brakes as my ear rang with pain, shooting into my scalp, and through the tears burning the backs of my eyes. A car was abandoned on the side of the road, but I ignored it. Growing more desperate and angry by the second, I gritted my teeth and drove faster. I needed to be out of the car and off the damn road. Jenny and I would figure out what to do after that. She was always the problem solver, even if I didn’t agree with her solutions most of the time.

I followed the road around the side of the snowcapped mountain, going faster than I probably should have, and ran over another bump. This time, however, I was more prepared. I braced myself and maneuvered around the ones I could see in the growing darkness, listening to static as the radio continued to seek a clear channel. Then the static broke.

“I’m on the highway to hell—” Immediately, I dialed past the scratchy, high-pitched wail that blared through the speakers, glad to know KWHL was still playing their adequate end-of-days soundtrack for survival inspiration.

But the only other station that came in was the president’s speech, her words looping the same as before. She offered no solution. There was no safe haven. I switched to AM, praying there was someone—anyone—else broadcasting. I scanned over Mozart’s Serenade no. 13, assuming it was a schedule set, or they might’ve broadcasted something more pertinent to the situation we were in. I scanned and scanned, finally stopping when I heard a man’s animated voice bursting through the speakers. I held my breath to listen and prayed for good news.

“—you heard it from me. It’s like I’ve been saying. They don’t want you to know what’s really going on. It’s all part of the plan—the end of days wasn’t just some biblical story, it was part of a master design.” His enthusiastic laughter made my skin crawl. “Naysayers said I was crazy, but what do you think now? I hate to say I told you so, but . . . I did. I told you so. They’ll tell you there are safe places to go, but can we really trust them after all of this? I don’t—” I switched off the radio. The last thing I needed to do was listen to the ranting of someone crazier than I was.

I didn’t allow myself to even consider that his words might’ve been true as I parked the Bronco just outside the apartment building, next to an SUV covered in several days’ worth of snow. I peered up at the ugly, looming high-rise in the middle of picturesque Alaska. There had to be a hundred rooms, at least, but only a dozen windows were lit up while the rest remained ominously dark.

Jenny’s warning boomed back to life. Don’t come to Whitely.

Whitely was well known in Alaska. It was a city under one roof and all that was left of the abandoned military base after a big earthquake in the 60s. It was a hamlet, happily perched on Prince William Sound. The PW Tower housed two-hundred-plus residents—doctors, elected officials, and fisherman alike. Though Whitely was a place of renowned beauty, it also bred ghost stories and strange disappearances, making it one of Alaska’s most famed and intriguing oddities.

Cut off from the rest of the world by a single road that wound beneath the mountain, Whitely seemed the perfect place to hide away until the outbreak blew over, yet I wondered if I wasn’t making a dire decision by going in. The longer I sat in the Bronco staring up at it, the more uncertain I became. What if there were others like Thomas?

What if there were others in there like me?

Regardless, it needed to be done. Pulling my cap down over my ears and zipping up my jacket, I opened the gun case I’d set on the floor and pulled out the pistol and a full magazine. I stared at the Glock momentarily, wondering if I was being paranoid. I didn’t want to scare people by walking in there with a weapon, but after Thomas and the news reports, I couldn’t take any more risks than necessary.

Inhaling a steadying breath, I told myself this was what I needed to do and pushed open the driver side door, shoving the pistol in my waistband as I braved the cold.

Mountains surrounded the town, barely the size of an Anchorage city block, and abandoned Army barracks stood like watchmen on either side, black, gaping mouths and eyes where windows and entrances used to be.

A cruise ship was anchored at the pier, and I had a sickening suspicion being a port to the Alaska Marine Highway would not work in this town’s favor.

My footsteps moved more quickly, and in a rush to get to the front steps, I tripped in the snow and fell to the ground. My knees collided with the frozen cement, my palms following.

“Ugh!” I growled, letting the sting settle a bit before I pushed myself up off the ground. The building’s exterior lights barely illuminated the darkness as I climbed to my feet. There was only so much a girl could take in a twenty-four hour timeframe, and I was losing my grip. I kicked the lump in the snow, my foot colliding instantly with an unyielding mass and my ankle twisted at contact. With a silent gasp, I drew back my leg, stifling a maddening cry, then froze.

Stripes. I could see colorful, delicate stripes, and I leaned closer. I brushed the snow away and screamed. A hand—a glove-covered hand.

Stumbling back, I scanned the sporadic white mounds on the ground, understanding instantly. I darted inside, desperate to separate myself from the frozen wasteland of dead, and I slammed the door shut behind me as quickly as the hinges would allow.

I stared out at the bodies like they might suddenly move. They were frozen, and logically, I knew they would never move again, but that didn’t make me feel any better. Squeezing my eyes shut, I placed my palm on my chest, desperate for it to stop racing, and turned toward the building’s interior.

“Hello?” I called, glancing around at the stark, drab walls. The place was dead quiet, save for the papers taped to the walls that settled back into place in my wake. “Hello!” The building felt similar to an old office building, but there were no bustling receptionists wearing too much makeup and there was no droll elevator music playing from the overhead speakers. I wasn’t sure what I smelled, something musty and yet faintly sweet, like an overripe banana. And the cold that clung to my skin turned hot with fear.

The florescent lights flickered overhead. The pipes in the walls clanked. I pulled my beanie off as the warmth of the building pressed against me like a heated blanket. The doors shuttered in a gust of wind, but I heard no one.

While I assumed I was in the lobby, there was no reception desk or directory for reference. There was nothing to denote it was the entry of the building, save for a corkboard with flyers on the left wall just before the elevator, and directional signs hanging from the ceiling. I took a step closer.

The word Stairs was painted over a door, offset to the right.

Offices were denoted to the left, Mercantile to the right, and long tunnels stretched in both directions.

A building like this had to have a managerial or administration team of some sort, and that’s who I needed to speak with if I was going to find Jenny’s apartment. A phone rang in one of the offices down the hall, so I followed the arrow left.

No one’s alive. The thought taunted me as I broke into a run. Someone had to be alive—they were calling. I ran faster, my ankle smarting with each step.

Light poured out of an open office door into the dimly lit corridor, but the phone stopped mid-ring as I stopped in the doorway of the mayor’s office. “Hello—” I hedged in the doorway. A woman with a mahogany-red ponytail slept with her hands folded under her head on her desk, her head turned away from me.

Tentative, I stepped inside. She had a loose, sleeveless blouse tucked into pressed pants, tight around her waist, and a clipboard with a list of names rested on the desktop beside her.

The heat inside me swirled, and I tried to catch my breath as my heart beat faster and faster. JJ St. James was on the top of the list. A line was struck through it.

Jennifer June St. James. Did the line mean she was dead or better? Most of the people on the list would’ve had a line through their name if it meant they were dead, wouldn’t they? If billions of people were dying, almost all of them would be crossed out.

I stepped closer and reached for the clipboard slowly, so not to startle the woman I prayed was sleeping.

“Ma’am?” I whispered. The scent of vomit hit my nose just as I saw it pooled around her face, and I jumped back. Her eyes were open to slits, but I saw their discolor and knew what it meant. My insides twisted.

I barely caught sight of her nameplate before I ran from the room, right into a sign on the wall I hadn’t noticed before. The overheads flickered, casting the paper in a light show of shadows. Big, bold red letters were scribbled on it: Q3. On a normal day I wouldn’t give it a second thought, but one word screamed in the back of my mind. Quarantine.

Sweat was slick on my upper lip and beneath my layers of clothes. The building was suddenly sweltering. I peered down the hall, at the stairs that would lead me to Jenny. I didn’t want to find out where Q1 and Q2 were, or any other quarantine that followed, so I decided to take my chances on the tenth floor. That’s where she lived, even if I didn’t know which apartment.

On wobbling legs, I lunged into the stairwell. I took the steps two at a time, ignoring the sting of my sore ankle. “Jenny!” I shouted, forcing myself to focus as the harrowing realization I might be the only one alive in the entire building overcame me.

She was better, just like I was better, and if Jenny was anywhere, she would be in her apartment, not down some dark hallway that housed bodies I wasn’t sure I could bear seeing.

I knew she wouldn’t be able to hear me ten stories up, but I called her name all the same, the sound of my voice—the sound of something—putting me more at ease.

“Jenny!” I yelled again. She’d complained in one of our infrequent calls about moving her things up ten floors, but having never been there, the apartment number escaped me. Her reclusiveness had always bothered me, but only now did I realize how bad it had really become.

Up and up I went, climbing each floor of the tower until I thought the stairs would never end. I finally reached the tenth floor and flung the door open, wheezing as I gasped for air.

“Jenny . . .” My voice was barely a whisper as I scanned the hallway. There was a corridor to the right and one to the left. Thighs screaming with fatigue, I veered to the right. I had to start somewhere, and I would pound on every door until I found her. “Jenny!” I shouted, inhaling the stale, hot air that permeated the floor. It didn’t smell over-ripe like the floors below, which flared my hope.

I knocked on the door of the first apartment. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

When I heard no movement, I pounded on the next. “Jenny, it’s Elle! Is anyone in there?” I couldn’t bring myself to say alive. “I’m looking for my sister, Jenny St. James.” I pounded harder. “Hello!”

I sprinted to the next apartment. The door wasn’t latched and opened as my knuckles grazed it, but no one was inside. The fact there was no body made me hopeful. They could’ve gotten out of here before things had gotten too bad. Jenny might’ve gone with them.

As hopeful as the thought made me, tears blurred my vision as I reached the next apartment. “Hello,” I rasped, voice weakened by desperation. “Jenny, it’s me.” If she wasn’t answering, she was likely dead. If she’d left . . . how the hell would I ever find her?

I tried the knob, but like most of the others, it was locked and I moved on. I knocked on 1005 and 1006, then moved on to 1007 and 1008. “Somebody!” I yelped as the hysteria crept in.

I peeled off my jacket, my skin feeling like fire. Was I the only fucking person alive? I pounded on door 1010. “Hello?” Sweat beaded my brow, and my lungs pulled manically at whatever air they could get. I was hyperventilating, the panic swarming me like a cloud of bees blocking out the last rays of the sun. I couldn’t breathe.

I leaned back against the wall and covered my face with my hands as the sobs tore out of me. Thomas’s face flashed to mind, along with the scorch marks on his body. The corpses I’d seen outside, the sea of cars—all of it drowned any semblance of hope. What was I thinking coming here? I didn’t care about my hands anymore, or the churning burn inside me. I couldn’t do this alone.

As my legs gave out, a door creaked open down the hall. I stilled and my head popped up. I blinked and glanced around. “Hello?” I wiped the tears from my eyes and held my breath.

A girl, probably seventeen or eighteen, stuck her head through a doorway, her strawberry blonde hair pulled up in a long ponytail.

“Oh, thank God.” I ran over to her, forgetting how crazed I must’ve looked.

Her eyes shifted to the gun tucked in at my hip and she slammed the door shut.

“No! Please—please don’t shut the door. I need to find my sister. She lives on this floor—Jenny St. James. Please—you’re the only person I’ve seen.” I knocked stubbornly, desperate. “Do you know her?” She had to, right? They all lived in the same building. They were all neighbors. “She’s my twin—she looks just like me . . .”

I shut my eyes, pressing my warm cheek against the cool door, praying she would open up. “Please,” I whispered. “I need your help.”

The door creaked open, stopping where the chain lock ended.

“Oh, thank you—thank you! Do you know where Jenny lives?”

The girl’s blue eyes narrowed on me, assessing me. Then, they softened. “JJ lived there,” she rasped and nodded to the last door at the end of the hall.

I rushed to the apartment, wishing for a miracle. The door was unlocked, but it wasn’t until I opened the door that I registered the girl’s words. Lived—it’s where JJ lived.

Tears dripped down my cheeks as I stepped inside. “Jenny . . .” The light was on, flickering like the lights in the hallway, and there was blood on the kitchen floor. I gasped. “No . . .” I scoured the rest of the apartment, rushing to the bedroom where a sick person would sleep, but her queen-sized bed was disheveled, and empty. The oak dresser across from it had nothing on top to gather dust and the flat screen mounted on the wall was turned off. The only thing in the room was a side table, a wrought iron lamp with a black shade sitting on it.

I walked back into the living room and stared at the black suede couch and white walls with only a large, silver framed mirror to adorn them. I stepped closer to the coffee table, half-expecting to see a ring in the tan wood from where she always set her cold cups down without a coaster. But there was no ring.

Everything in the apartment was crisp and clean and sparse, which wasn’t Jenny at all. She was a whirlwind and a mess, and for the first time I was grateful for it. This wasn’t Jenny’s house—JJ was not Jenny. It was all a huge mistake.

As I allowed myself to hope, I saw a loaf of gluten-free bread on the counter, blackberry jam, and an open butter dish. It was Jenny’s favorite snack when we were kids—the sweet and the salty with a little crunch. And she was allergic to wheat.

All I could do was stand there, motionless and my mind adrift. Blood splattered the counter, soaked into the grout around the tile.

I’d known she was sick, but we were twins. She was supposed to be fine. But then I realized, I wasn’t fine. Something was wrong with me, the virus was still inside me, alive, likely eating me from the inside out. Maybe this time tomorrow I would be dead, too.

My gaze caught on a single photo, hung on the fridge. I stepped closer.

It was us. Its edges were well-worn and discolored. We were young, probably ten or so based on the tie-dye t-shirt I was wearing, but I didn’t remember taking it. Stepping over the blood, I pulled the photo off, the magnet clanking to the ground.

The floor creaked and the girl from next door stepped into the doorway, arms wrapped around her middle. Her legs were exposed in her boxer shorts, half covered by an oversized sweatshirt, and she looked as scared and miserable as I was.

“Do you know where she is?” I asked.

The girl blinked, her shoulders heaving as she gripped her middle tighter.

I stepped closer, desperation clawing inside. “Have you seen my sister or not?” I asked her.

She nodded, her chin trembling. “They took her away on a stretcher.”

I forced myself to utter the words. “To quarantine?”

The girl lifted a petite shoulder and licked a tear from her lips. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Did she go to quarantine or not?” I bit out.

“I don’t know,” she barked back and wiped her nose with her sleeve. “I never saw her again. My mom told me to stay upstairs and not open the door or leave this floor—she made me swear.”

I nodded because it didn’t matter. I’d seen the list. Jenny was on it, her name crossed off. It was clear what it meant. And there was blood everywhere in her kitchen to prove the rest.

“Where did your mom go?” I asked, daring to hope she might still be alive.

The girl shook her head. “She was helping the people from the cruise ship on the first floor. I’ve been calling her, but she hasn’t answered.”

The unanswered call . . . “She’s the mayor.” It was only a half question, and my chest tightened before she could even answer.

The girl’s red-rimmed eyes widened, and she stepped closer. “Have you seen her?” she asked.

Reluctantly, I nodded.

The hope in the girl’s eyes blurred with tears and she choked out a sob. “She’s dead? My mom’s dead?”

I didn’t answer her; I didn’t have to.

Her mom was dead. So was Jenny.

I didn’t wipe the tears away as they poured down my cheeks. My heart broke for me and for the girl. For the mother who had kept her daughter safe, even if she knew she wouldn’t make it herself.

The girl doubled over, barely able to catch her breath, and I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her against me.

She grabbed at my shirt, clasping on like I was all that held her upright, and in my sister’s apartment, as the world crashed down around us, we cried.

14

Jackson

December 11

I stood at the sliding glass door in my kitchen, staring into the night-shrouded backyard with my arms folded over my chest. The porch lights lit the snowflakes drifting through the air, falling to the cold earth, where the garden would’ve been in spring.

Hannah’s stone covered grave was marked as my mother’s had been in her village the day she was buried, a sentimental offering of peace resting between two top stones. I felt strangely closer to my mother as I stared at them.

For my mother, I’d left a fishing pole, the one she’d helped me make from a willow branch and reed grass when I was six. For Hannah, I left my wedding band wrapped in a pair of polka-dotted baby socks.

Do I look like the kind of girl who would date a drunken stranger from a liquor store?

I could picture Hannah’s lifted eyebrow and tilted head perfectly; she could scold me with a single look, and the day we met was no different. Defiantly, I wanted to reach for the wine bottle on the table and guzzle it down. Maybe if she were angry enough with me for falling off the wagon, she would come back from the grave and give me a ration of shit.

Drago yawned, and I looked back at him as he stretched from his spot in my recliner. I was just happy someone was using it. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I stared at the wine bottle again until my eyes were so blurred and wet I couldn’t see its silhouette anymore.

The toilet flushed in the bathroom down the hall, the door opened, and I thumbed the tears away.

Ross walked into the kitchen. His shoulders were slumped more than before, and he nodded to the wine bottle. “I figured you would’ve chugged it by now. I wouldn’t blame you.”

I glanced at the photo of Hannah and me pinned to the bulletin board. “She would,” I told him. My hair was longer in the photo; it would’ve been down to my ears if it wasn’t so wild in the wind, like hers was, blonde locks whipping around us. The sun was out and we were both smiling, as she leaned in to kiss my cheek, the wind threatening to blow us away.

I almost smiled, but it ached too much.

“I didn’t figure you were a wine drinker anyway,” Ross muttered.

“I’m not. Someone gave it to us a while back. I told Hannah she could have some, it would’ve been fine, but she never drank it. She never threw it away, either.”

“I remember when she told me she’d met the guy she would marry at a liquor store, and that you were a drunk—no,” he shook his head. “Her exact words were ‘functioning alcoholic’.” Ross looked at me with shimmery blue eyes. “I told her she was fucking crazy.” He picked up the bottle and turned it over in his hands. “Why do you think she kept it?”

I stared down at my hands, trembling as the remaining liquor left my system. “To remind me how strong I am,” I said, but my voice was paper-thin. “She was standing in line at the liquor store,” I told him, remembering her paisley purple bandana wrapped around her head, blonde hair disheveled, and a dozen woven bracelets that looked handmade around her wrist. “She was such a hippy,” I mused. “But I wanted her. Especially when she glared at the cashier who’d told her she couldn’t use the bathroom unless she was a customer.” I looked at Ross. “You know what she said?”

“I can imagine.” He wiped a tear from his eye, unable to look at me.

“I can pee on your floor instead, if you want me to.” Even in the cloudy darkness her smile shined through. I wanted her smile to be real. I needed it to be.

Ross clasped me on the shoulder and took a deep breath. “You’ll get through this,” he told me. “You and I both will, okay?”

With Ross standing there, the thought almost seemed possible. I peered back at him, seeing the fear in his eyes. He didn’t know what awaited him in Fairbanks. Kelsey might be alive, or she might be dead. She may not want to leave her mom. Everything was still so uncertain.

He sniffed and wiped his nose with his sleeve. “Leave it to women to make us weep, right?”

Closing my eyes, I could almost feel Hannah standing next to me, her hand on my shoulder. She’d want me to take care of Ross, for us to take care of each other. I picked the bottle up off the table, opened the back door, and threw it against the back fence as hard as I could. Unexpected relief flooded me as it shattered. It was gone. I’d made a choice, for her, and now I could move on.

“If you don’t hear from me right away, give me a few days to see what’s what,” Ross said, thoughtful. “I’ll at least call you by then and we’ll figure out what to do.”

I understood why he had to leave, just like he understood why I had to stay in Anchorage to check on my dad. But it didn’t make his leaving any more comforting.

“I better get on the road.” He grabbed his jacket and lifted the satellite phone. “I’ll call you.” He tucked the handheld CB radio under his arm. “Or, I’ll try you on Channel 07.”

I nodded.

“Worst-case scenario—”

“This is the worst case scenario.” I pointed to the sat phone clutched in his hand. “If I don’t hear from you, I’ll come to Kelsey’s mom’s in Fairbanks.”

Ross shook his head sharply and glanced around the house. I could imagine him mentally ticking off all the reasons we both knew we shouldn’t stay in the city longer than necessary. “No, don’t come to Fairbanks. If something happens—”

I held up my hand. “I—”

“Shut the fuck up, Jackson, and listen to me,” he commanded, knowing exactly what I’d say. “If something happens and you don’t hear from me, you don’t stay here either.”

“I’m not staying here,” I said, peering around at the tainted memories. “I can’t.”

“Go to my house, stay as long as you want.” He pulled his keys from his pocket and handed them to me. “I know where the spare is if I need it.”

His keys felt strange in my hand.

“My Tacoma is in the garage. Use it, if you need it. I’ll take my work truck.”

We knew nothing about the virus or what was happening to the rest of the world. We were alive, but for how long? A thousand things could go wrong from now to tomorrow, and we were only dancing around them. “I’ll head northeast,” I told him, staring up from his key ring. “If I don’t hear from you, I’ll head to the backcountry, somewhere away from this place.”

Ross nodded. “Leave me a note, a crumb trail—whatever the hell you have to do. I’ll find you” he reiterated. “Even if I have to wait for the snow to melt.”

That was months from now, but he was right, the roads were getting worse and we still had months of winter left.

I shoved his keys into my pocket. Bravado aside, we stood in silence a moment, me imagining the impending days of uncertainty. Ross was all I had left.

“Well, wish me luck.” He exhaled, long and deep, then swallowed thickly. He hadn’t uttered the words aloud, but he worried his wife was dead. Why else hadn’t she figured out a way to get ahold of him, or answered her phone—or her mother’s.

“Be safe, brother,” I said, pulling him in and wrapping my arms around him.

“You too. Tell the ornery son of a bitch I’m glad he’s okay, when you see him.”

I nodded, because I wasn’t sure what else to do, and whistled for Drago to follow us as we walked out to Ross’s truck. It felt like a knife ripped at my gut with each step. I didn’t have a good feeling about this.

He and Drago climbed into the patrol truck, Ross waved for good measure, then they drove away.

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I stared at my lifeless street and walked back into the house. It was time to say goodbye to this place, and to my wife—for the last time.

15

Elle

December 11

Hands braced on the sink, I stared into the mirror, not so much looking at myself but staring straight through. At nothing. At everything—a blur of an angry, resentful past and terrifying, uncertain futures. So much of the past had been awash in regret and bitterness, and what was it all for? I thought my problems before were bad, but this . . . What was the point of surviving if everyone else was dead?

Sophie wasn’t dead. Why? And why wasn’t I? What made us special? I stared at my white knuckles, gripping the edge of the basin. I knew what made me dangerous, but how I’d gotten this way was the unanswered question. I covered my face, smiling like a lunatic. “What the hell is happening to me?”

Heaving a sigh, I dropped my hands and studied the calfskin gloves I’d raided from Jenny’s top drawer. I was able to touch Sophie without hurting her when I’d had my snow gloves on; I’d held her against me, too lost in my own grief to realize the danger I was putting her in. While I was determined not to allow the slip again, not until I knew what was happening to me, the gloves gave me a temporary buffer, and that was about all I could ask for.

It hurt to think about it. My head, my body . . . everything ached from crying and Thomas’s attack. I’d done my best to ignore it, but under the weight of everything, it grew more difficult. I needed sleep, a lot of it, but that would have to come later, too.

Mind throbbing, I dug through my bag for the emergency ibuprofen stash in my coin purse. I laughed silently to myself. Emergency was a word for it. I unlatched the coin purse and fingered through a few coins clinking around, but I didn’t feel the pills. “Damn it . . .”

I leaned down and closer to the light to see inside. I’d taken them already, I remembered. I’d needed them after Thomas slammed me onto the wood floor. “Shit,” I hissed, borderline desperate. I was close to throwing the coin purse across the room when a beige piece of paper, inside the pocket, caught my eye. It was Jenny’s riddle. I’d forgotten about it until now.

What people said about twins was true. Even if Jenny and I were never close, there was a connection between us I couldn’t easily explain. I knew when something was wrong, even without her telling me, just like I knew the envelope was from her the day I received it with no return address, before I even opened it.

I unfolded the discolored corners and re-read the words that seemed familiar at one time, but they still made no sense. The sound of silence will set you free. In the silence there I’ll be. Jenny had never been sentimental, so I knew it was a song lyric or a riddle she wanted me to figure out.

“So, the note you sent, is it a riddle I’m supposed to figure out or something?”

She laughed, but it wasn’t with humor. “Yes. Have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Figured it out yet?”

“The quiet will liberate me? Is that a threat? Maybe morbid song lyrics?”

“No,” she said, but her amusement faded. “Keep it until you figure it out, okay?”

“We’re not nine anymore, Jenny. I don’t have time for riddles—”

“Don’t throw it away, Eleanor.” Her sharp tone wasn’t entirely surprising. She was the dramatic of the two of us; always had been. But there was a tinge of panic in her voice that I hadn’t expected.

“Why not?”

“Because, Elle, just don’t. Figure it out first—promise me.” For all of her theatrics, I was always the gullible one, and even though I knew she was probably playing with me, there was still a pique of uncertainty I couldn’t shake.

“What if I don’t want to play?” I asked. It was our first year of college, me at a community college while she miraculously got into a university in Juneau. With what money I didn’t know. Dr. John had cut her off the day she ran away. Waitressing tips barely paid for my books. Or, maybe it was all a lie. I’d never visited her at the university, I only remember she used it as an excuse to never visit. Just like I used school as an excuse to stay away.

“Elle, please. Just . . . keep it, okay? At least until you figure it out.”

“What if I never figure it out?”

“Then keep it forever,” she said.

I stared at the words, churning them over in my mind. I’d do some Googling later and play her game. “Fine,” I agreed. “But if it’s something stupid or some prank, I swear I’m sending you a box of dead spiders in the mail, and you’ll never know when it’s coming.” Jenny hated spiders, she sobbed whenever there was one in her room, dead or alive.

“Okay,” she said easily, which meant it must’ve been a good riddle if she would risk my wrath.

I’d never figured the riddle out. I’d put it in my purse that day, got too busy with flunking school, and eventually forgot about it.

The floor creaked in the adjacent room and I stilled.

“Elle?” Sophie’s voice was soft and hesitant in the living room.

“Yeah?” I pulled my sleeve down and wiped my nose. I hadn’t realized I was crying.

“Can you come here for a sec? There’s something you should see.”

I ran my fingers through my loose hair, resigned to look like hell since I was living in it. “Uh, yeah. Give me just a sec.”

“Okay.” I heard Sophie’s retreating footsteps and let out a breath. What the hell was I going to do now? I couldn’t leave Sophie, but I couldn’t stay here either.

I stared at my reflection like it would somehow produce answers; really seeing myself for the first time in, well, I wasn’t sure how long. Days, nights—they all blurred together—incoherent, tumultuous moments that bled from one memory to the next.

My eyes weren’t just green, but looked sickly and swollen. The shadows beneath them made my cheeks hollow. When was the last time I’d eaten anything?

Clearing my throat, I grabbed a rubber band from my purse and tossed my hair up, then turned on the faucet. I didn’t wait for it to get warm; I didn’t want it to get warm. I reveled in the chills that rose on my arms and neck as I splashed cold water on my face; the jolt I needed to pull myself together for a while longer.

After my face was dry, I tugged the gloves over my deadly fingers and abandoned my things in the bathroom for the time being. Stomach rumbling with hunger, not nausea, I made a mental note to raid Jenny’s cupboard sometime soon.

I didn’t bother closing the door behind me as I walked to Sophie’s apartment. There was no one left but us.

Or so I thought. I stopped in her open doorway and stared at three new faces. A small boy and a girl, maybe six and nine years old, sat on the couch. Their pajamas were filthy and they wore their coats zipped to the collar like they couldn’t get warm. Sophie handed them both a glass of water, which they eagerly accepted. She then held out a glass to the older boy, a Latino kid with dark hair and features, crouched over a tablet in the recliner. Sitting on the edge of the seat, his fingers frantically tapped on the screen.

They were kids, and they were alive. If there were five of us, there were likely others. The world didn’t feel so unrecognizable knowing that.

“Hello,” I whispered, leaning against the doorjamb. I offered a tentative wave.

Four sets of eyes shifted to me. The little girl with ratty brown hair and wet eyelashes blinked at me. Her nose was pink and her chin quivering. The little boy’s eyes were red and his cheeks flushed, but he only stared at me, uncertain.

“That’s Thea and Beau,” the older boy said. “I’m Alex.” His eyes narrowed on me, but his features eventually softened. “Have we met?”

I shook my head. “I don’t live here,” I told him. “But, you might’ve met my twin sister.” I glanced between the three of them. “I’m Elle. We thought we were the only ones left.”

Thea blinked at me, curiosity lifting her brow. Beau, older and less curious, continued to study me, clearly distrusting.

“Alex is in my class,” Sophie explained as he continued to swipe at the tablet in his hand.

I had a dozen questions to ask them, but as the little girl sat there shaking, I knew it wasn’t the right time, so I stuck with one question only. “You all know each other then?”

Thea shook her head as Sophie tucked a blanket around her. “He found us,” Thea whispered, wiping her nose with the palm of her hand. I handed her a tissue from the box on the coffee table.

More questions continued to swirl. “Found you?”

Thea’s head bobbed as she blew her nose. She looked around, uncertain what to do with the used tissue, and finally offered it to her brother.

“Here,” I said, stepping closer. “I’ll take it.”

Thea handed it to me tentatively, staring at my gloves. I was about to pull my hand away when she dropped the Kleenex in my palm and then slurped down half the glass of water. She licked her lips when she finished, inhaling to catch her breath.

“Have the three of you been sick?” I asked, unable to resist. “Have you had the fever?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, groaning as he lifted the tablet up and moved it around, like he was trying to get a signal.

“What about you two?” I asked. “Have you been sick?” The need to understand was gnawing at me. “I’m worried we might still be contagious—”

“We’ve been sick,” Beau finally said. “First me, then Thea.”

“Then Mommy—”

Beau elbowed her, making her grimace.

“Damn it,” Alex grumbled as he set the tablet on the coffee table, scowling at it. “There has to be a way to get news.”

“The Internet’s been in and out all day,” Sophie said. “The cable for the TV isn’t even working anymore. But you can keep trying.”

I peered around her apartment, noting the sweeping landscape photos that donned her walls, and the lack of family photos. Growing up in a house I wished had less family photos, I tended to notice those things. I stepped up to a cluster of frames beside the television, seeing a little Sophie with leg braces on and a miserable fake smile on her face. The mayor was pretty, if a little severe with the same blue eyes Sophie had, and red hair that was much darker. Sophie’s father had the blonde hair, was tall, and definitely younger than Dr. John, even if there was still something similar about him.

My stomach grumbled and I flushed.

“We have cheese and crackers,” Sophie said. She glanced from me to Alex, who shook his head, then to Thea who nodded happily.

“I like cheese and crackers,” she chirped, suddenly a little less afraid.

Beau looked at his sister. It was the same look I gave Jenny when she said something out of turn. Like Beau didn’t want to impose, or maybe he wasn’t sure if he could trust Sophie yet.

“I like cheese and crackers too,” I added with a smile and patted my tummy. “And I’m starving.”

Finally, Beau looked at Sophie and nodded as well. “Yes, please.”

“I’ll help you,” I said, following Sophie into the kitchen.

“Alex,” Sophie stopped short. “There are coloring books in my desk in the bedroom, will you grab them for me? The colored pencils too?” She nodded to the kids, then into the dark room behind him.

Alex stood, hesitated before he went into her bedroom, but flicked on the light.

I saw a cutting board leaning against the wall beside the microwave and grabbed it as Sophie pulled out a block of cheddar cheese from the fridge. Like Jenny’s, the galley kitchen looked out into the living room, only Sophie’s was remodeled with new, expensive stainless steel appliances.

“My dad is a chef,” she explained. “Was—I guess, I’m not sure if he’s okay or not.”

“Is he here in Whitely?”

She shook her head. “He was on a yacht in Barbados, last I heard.” Her voice trembled and I wrapped my arm around her shoulder as she tried to stifle the tears back. “I’m fine,” she said.

“No, you’re not,” I told her. “None of us are. You’re allowed to be sad and worried.”

She nodded, but brushed her tears away and put the brick of cheese on the cutting board.

“I hope you like flowers,” Alex said, setting the books and pencils on the coffee table.

Sophie cleared her throat. “There might be games in the closet,” she said loud enough so Alex could hear her. “I can’t remember if my mom took them down to the classroom already.”

I handed her a knife from the holder. “Thanks,” she said, voice quiet. She was fair skinned and willowy, but though she looked fragile she was strong. I already knew that much. She could’ve been curled up on her bed still, sobbing hysterically. “Alex found them in the Heston Building,” she whispered and nodded toward the kids.

I had no idea what the Heston Building was. “Is that a bad thing?”

“It’s the ruined Army bunkers next door.”

That structure had looked legitimately abandoned during my drive in—it didn’t even have glass on its windows or functioning doors. I frowned. “What were they doing in there?”

“I have no idea.” Her voice was low, but pitched. “Alex thinks they watched their mom kill herself. I’m not sure I buy it though.”

“Why not?”

“Elle, their mom is Katie Gunderson. She was my teacher . . . she would never do something like that—ever. I’ve known her for years.” Sophie dropped the knife and braced herself against the countertop. Her glassy eyes shifted to the living room. “Why would she take them out in a blizzard and make them watch something like that? It doesn’t make any sense.” I knew that look; I’d felt it many times. Sophie was beginning to spiral.

“I think,” I started, uncertain what exactly I should say when none of the pieces fit together or made any sense. “I think we need to prepare for the possibility that those of us who have survived the outbreak will never be the same.”

Sophie’s eyes narrowed on me. “What do you mean?”

“I mean . . . Do you feel different?” I hedged.

Her brow furrowed deeper. If I wasn’t careful I would scare them, hell, I was petrified. “Like how, exactly?” she asked in complete bewilderment. If Sophie’s reaction was anything to go by, she definitely didn’t have what felt like dragon’s breath simmering under her skin, and I pushed that knowledge away to dwell on later.

Grasping for words, I shook my head. “Just tired, exhausted—Maybe your teacher was sleep deprived and didn’t realize what she was doing.”

“You’ve seen something like this,” Sophie said. She was clearly observant too.

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned my hip against the counter. “Yeah—I guess, sort of.”

“Is that how you got that bruise on your jaw?” Alex asked, stepping into the kitchen.

I straightened, my gloved hand going to the side of my face. I hadn’t noticed a bruise.

“Look,” Alex said, changing the subject. He set the tablet down in front of us. “There are reports about people losing their minds. They thought people were acting out of fear, but this man survived the virus and when he woke he set everyone else in the hospital ward on fire, dead or alive—kids, women, children.”

“An effect of the fever,” I realized.

He shrugged. “It’s speculation.”

I skimmed over the article, grateful Alex covered whatever image was beneath his hand.

“But—” Sophie shook her head. “Why would she take them out there, wearing only their pajamas and their shoes? Was she trying to freeze them to death or something?”

He shrugged. “Why would a doctor who paid gobs of money to go to school to save people’s lives, suddenly decide to kill them?”

“So some of the survivors are insane?” Sophie gasped. Yes, I wanted to tell her. Thomas had proved that much.

Alex leaned in. “I think their mom tried to push them out a window.”

My gaze flashed to the kids. They muttered quietly as Beau helped Thea with her coloring page.

“I saw her body and the fear in their eyes, it outweighed the sadness. Like maybe they weren’t sure she was dead and that she might come back or something. Beau wouldn’t say anything more.”

“Those poor kids,” I murmured and pulled the crackers out of their sleeve to place on the plate. It was clear that sickness was no longer the enemy; it was whatever had been left in its wake. “We have to be extra careful,” I told them.

Sophie shifted from one foot to the other. “What are we going to do? Just stay here forever?”

“We can’t stay here,” Alex said. “There’s a gym full of bodies. It’s only a matter of time before—we just, we can’t.”

“The quarantine,” I remembered.

“There’s a post about this place in British Columbia.” Alex tried to show us, but the Internet connection was lost again. “Shit,” he muttered. Scratching his buzzed head, he sighed. “It’s a gathering place in Hartley Bay.”

“Hartley Bay?” I glanced between them.

“It’s supposed to be safe,” he explained, but I wasn’t sure I believed it. That was easily a thousand miles from us, unless one of them knew how to captain a ship. I’d visited once for a photoshoot. It was very secluded and on the ocean, much like Whitely, which scared the shit out of me. The quarantine might not have been necessary if there hadn’t have been a horde of people from the cruise ship to complicate things. Hartley Bay would be a place where boats from all around the world could sail into if they wanted, madmen and survivors alike, seeking a safe place to stay. Unless Hartley had extreme measures in place, there would be nothing to stop them.

The lights flickered and Thea shrieked.

“It’s fine,” Beau admonished, and Sophie handed me a piece of cheese, then Alex walked into the living room to deliver the plate of food.

The cheddar was like candy on my tongue and my stomach wanted more. I cut another piece off the block for Alex and then myself while Sophie lit a candle on the center of the table.

“The backup generators came on this afternoon,” she explained. “We’re used to the power going out here,” she looked at Alex, then at me. “But once the fuel is gone . . .”

I leaned my elbows on the counter and rested my head in my hands. The crippling question of what now inched its way in, settling nicely next to fear.

“There’re tons of posts online about hold-outs throughout the country,” Alex said, and I admired the optimism in his voice. “Around the entire world, but nothing close enough we can get to.” Alex showed me the list. A place in the San Juan Islands in Washington, an Army base in the lower forty-eight, two places in Canada, Greenland . . . The list went on but Alaska wasn’t on the map.

“Canada’s the closest,” Alex said. “If we can get there, we might have a chance.” I wasn’t sure who this kid was, exactly, but I admired his bravery and his grit. I didn’t, however, know if we were ready to take a road trip to Hartley Bay, me and four kids.

“How do we know we’re the last ones left in the building?” I looked at Alex. “There have to be others if we’re still alive.” I waited for him to say something about his parents or for melancholy to shadow his gaze.

“We looked for their dad,” Alex said, peering out at the kids. “He wasn’t anywhere I could find him. I’d bet there’s no one else left in this building. They would’ve found us by now.”

Deep down I knew he was probably right. I’d been calling and shouting and no one had heard me.

Sophie sniffed and put the cheese back in the fridge. Her mom was still down there. Jenny was down there somewhere too.

Sophie covered her face with her hands and stood in front of the fridge, the door hanging open.

Alex looked at me, his green eyes wide.

“Her mom,” I mouthed and pointed down to the first floor.

His face fell, softened, and he cleared his throat. “We’ll find a way to say goodbye,” he promised and hesitantly rested his hand on her shoulder. “Before we leave, we’ll figure out a way.” Something occurred to him and his eyes flicked to Sophie’s stomach. He leaned in. “Are you okay?” She met his eyes, and he glanced down at her stomach again, pointing.

My heartbeat thudded to a stop, and I stepped closer. “Are you pregnant?” I whispered.

Sophie’s face flushed and her hands went to her stomach. Slowly, she shook her head. “No. It’s—I’m not. It was a false alarm.” She brushed past us and tossed the dirty knife in the sink.

I glared at Alex. “I thought you guys were just friends?”

“We are, I mean—I guess we are.” His eyes widened as he registered my implication. “It wouldn’t have been mine,” he groused. “We met for the first time on Monday. I just moved here.”

And yet somehow, he knew she thought she was pregnant. I was curious, but had more important concerns. I needed to figure out what we would do. What I would do with two teenagers and a couple of kids.

Alex nodded to my gloves. “You cold or something?”

I fisted them at my sides. “It’s a germ thing,” I lied. I told myself they wouldn’t know any different; I was a stranger to them anyway. But I felt bad all the same. I might’ve been a stranger to Sophie six hours ago, but now, I wasn’t sure what we were. Survivors? Orphans? All of us were both, and we all needed somewhere safe to go.

I smacked my fist on the counter. “The Coast Guard.”

“Brilliant,” Alex said, pleased. “What about them?”

I eyed him skeptically. He was strangely collected in all of this. “What were you doing outside?” I finally asked him. I eyed him closely. “Where have you been all this time?”

His features hardened and he straightened his shoulders. “I needed to get away from my uncle, Jimmy. He wasn’t what you would call a standup guy.” He pointed to his fat lip.

“He hit you?” Sophie’s question was more of an incredulous rasp than a whisper.

“With a shoe,” he grumbled, his cheeks reddening. “Look, I don’t know what happened or when.” He looked at Sophie. “We got into an argument, and I took off. I needed air, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in a warehouse. Which, trust me, was better than his shithole apartment.”

Alex met my gaze, almost defiantly, like he was waiting for me to ask him more questions, but I could see he was hiding whatever confusion and fear he had beneath his stoic exterior. I knew that facade—stay busy and focused. It was the only way to keep your shit together.

I nodded, a silent forfeiture of prying questions.

“So, the Coast Guard?” he prompted.

“There’s a blockade at the docks in Anchorage. We could head back there, see if they’re still set up—they’ll know what to do. There were a few of them when I was headed this way. They’ll likely know more than we do.” I nodded reassuringly, convincing myself it was a good plan. That it was a solid plan, perhaps our only plan. “They’re our best option.”

“All of us?” Sophie asked. Her eyes darted between me and Alex.

“I would assume . . . I guess. That’s up to you guys.” I glanced out at the two smaller children. I didn’t know the first thing about parenting, but I knew I was all they had at this point. “We’ll leave notes for their parents, in case their dad comes back, but I can’t leave them here. Whether you both stay or not.”

Sophie looked down at her hands, fiddling with a piece of plastic cheese wrapper.

“We could leave a note for your dad too,” Alex told her.

I didn’t want to push her, even if I knew it was our only real hope of finding safety and answers. Sophie needed to decide what she would do on her own, we all did.

“Yeah, I’ll do that. In case he survived and comes home.” She could barely speak the words. While I’d lost an estranged sister, she’d lost her entire family.

“Mull it over,” I told her. “You have time.” If my body odor was anything to go by, we all could’ve used showers and fresh clothes. “We need to get some rest.”

Alex and Sophie nodded.

I stared in at Thea, curled up against the arm of the couch. “We leave tomorrow then, when there’s a break in the snow.” Decided and relieved there was a plan, I grabbed an over-ripened twig of grapes from the bowl on the counter and decided a shower was exactly what I needed to wash away the fog of the day. “Oh.” I turned around and touched Alex’s shoulder.

He jumped back, like I’d electrocuted him, and I pulled my hand away.

My heart raced. “Sorry—I . . . Are you okay?” I eyed the fabric of his long sleeve to make sure I hadn’t singed him. I hadn’t felt a surge or burn, not like I had before.

Alex’s eyes narrowed on me, transforming his expression into something wary. “Yeah, I’m fine.” But I could practically hear the gears grinding in his head.

I cleared my throat. “Bring any weapons you have,” I added quietly. “Just in case.”

“What makes you think I have any weapons?” I wasn’t sure if I’d offended him or if he was just being cautious after whatever had just happened, but he sounded affronted.

“Because you’re a guy and you live in the wild state of Alaska. I assumed you’d have a weapon—a baseball bat or hockey stick maybe?”

He lifted his chin. “I’ll find something.”

Sophie watched us, just as confused as I was at whatever had just happened. But I didn’t want Alex to think I was a threat, so I headed for the door to give him some space.

“Where are you going?” Sophie asked. “You can stay here, if you want to.”

I shook my head. “Thanks, but I’m going to shower, then raid my sister’s closet. I didn’t come prepared for the Apocalypse.”

16

Jackson

December 11

I was used to dark roads and snow flurries, but tonight was more ominous than most. I couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to come—more than the gut-wrenching loss and dead bodies, more than fever and the end of our reign on the food chain. The foreboding hadn’t gone away when I’d found Ross at the PD, and it worsened when he drove away.

The radio stopped scanning and the static cracked. “This is a broadcast from Hartley Bay, British Columbia.”

I frowned at the radio, uncertain how Eagle River was picking up a signal from so far away.

“We’ve established a safe haven for survivors. We have food and water, plenty of generators and fuel, at least for now. We have military equipment, including a naval ship, and plenty of soldiers who are more than capable of defending this place.” It was a not-too-subtle warning to looters and lunatics. Smart.

“We welcome survivors who are willing to work hard to gain back some of what we lost—community, protection, and hope. If you have applicable skills that will help us get this place up and running as efficiently as possible, we need you. Until things get straightened out, assuming they ever will, we’re all we’ve got. We’ll broadcast daily, if possible.”

Using my blinker out of habit, I turned down the frontage road that led to my father’s place. A safe haven was a nice thought, even if I knew it would fail. Too many strangers, especially scared ones, would be difficult to manage, and I didn’t trust anyone, not anymore.

Eagle River was a city community in the municipality of Anchorage proper, but you’d never know it out here where the spruce trees lined to the Chugach foothills. A place in the middle of nowhere would suit me much better than a salvaged city.

I clicked the radio off as I passed the only other estate nestled on the left and continued toward his property.

The instant I saw the lights on in his house, I grew hopeful, then wary. If he was alive, he might not be the man I remembered. Then something a lot like guilt snuck up on me. If my father was dead, all the arguing and distance between us over the years would become a heavy regret.

I turned Ross’s Tacoma off and peered around the yard. It was the same as I remembered. His truck was in the drive, covered in what looked like a few days’ worth of snow, but that wasn’t surprising. He was ornery, but he wasn’t stupid. If he’d watched the news at all, he’d have stayed inside.

The dog kennels were on the side of the house, butting up to the garage; his newer, craftsman-style home was nestled in a copse of trees, a hamlet far enough away from town that he felt removed and his dogs had room to roam. His huskies were everything to him. I’d always told myself I was just glad he had something in his life, even if he’d pushed his family away. Or was I the one who’d pushed him away first?

I shoved the driver door open and tugged the hood of my jacket over my head as I climbed out. I’m not sure when cold shoulders turned into an irreparable resentment, but I figured if anything could bring my father and me back together, it would be the end of civilization.

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I trudged through the unshoveled snow up the path to the front door. The wind had died down, but the cold had seeped in, and my sore muscles ached in protest. Even getting out of the shower before I’d left had been a chore, and while the alcohol was gone, the sickness still lingered. I could feel the pressure of it behind my eyes and in my bones. Or was that exhaustion?

The motion light flashed on, and I braced myself for a slew of barking huskies, but they never came. In fact, they were strangely quiet. I glanced from the lit window of the living room back to the shadows of the kennels. My dad loved his dogs, but seven inside the house seemed excessive, even for him. Curiosity winning out, I bypassed the porch and headed around the side of the house to the kennels.

Through the light and shadows of the motion light, I could see two of the kennel doors open and discolored snow inside. My footsteps ceased as I slowly reached for my gun. I peered around the yard. Something was definitely off, but I took a few steps closer to the gate. I noticed blood in the snow first, then I saw the dog’s foot then registered the outline of it. It was covered in a layer of snow.

Heart suddenly racing, I scanned the rest of the kennels. Some of the dogs were still in their houses, but all of them were dead. I peered around the yard as chills trickled down my back. This didn’t feel right. My dad wouldn’t have killed them unless something had happened.

I crouched down beside the last dog, brushing off the snow. There was a bullet hole in its gray and brown head. Its body was frozen and it had been dead for some time. I picked up a spent rifle casing.

For the first time I wondered if the dogs—if all animals—were affected by the virus, just like humans, and if they’d turned, my dad would’ve had to kill them. I stared at the dogs. It didn’t make sense, and I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t think rabid, crazed animals was the reason they were dead, especially not with half of them still in their beds.

Gun in hand and dread a weighted anchor in my gut, I hurried as quietly as I could up the steps to the back door of the house. Either a crazy fucker had been here or my dad had lost his mind, and I wasn’t taking any chances.

The back door was cracked open, and gripping my gun tighter, I slowly pushed it open. For the first time since I’d woken to my intruder, the fog around my mind lifted, and I stepped inside. My palms were sweating. My heart was pounding. I had no idea what I would find.

I swept the kitchen, resisting the urge to shout for my dad. The living room was messy, but it didn’t look torn apart. His desk had a few files strewn on top, but they weren’t rifled through. His sparse leather furniture was as it should’ve been, the pillow on the couch still molded to the shape of his head.

My gut churned as I registered the silence; each footstep seemed to echo as I made my way into the bedroom. The flannel bedding was balled up, but he wasn’t in it. The top drawer of his dresser was open and I walked over. Socks—that’s all it had. It was a hiding place, I realized as I noted the small key stuck in the lock of the gun cabinet. It was empty.

I flipped the light in his bathroom on and stilled. Everything in the medicine cabinet was strewn about the countertop. The drawers and cabinets under the sink were open, the cleaning products, towels, and toilet paper were pulled out. Comet was sprinkled on the floor. The first aid box was open and gauze and cleaning pads littered the ground. Dad had been searching for something, maybe to try to save the dogs.

I ran through the house and back into the cold. The motion light flicked on again as I ran toward the garage. There were footprints in the snow I hadn’t seen before. They were smaller than mine, but not by much, and I’d know the outline of his moccasin slippers anywhere. Snow covered some of the footprints, but there were still enough to follow the trail.

Some of them came and went from the house, but those along the kennel fence line were deep and overlapping, like he’d been pacing back and forth. I followed them in circles until I noticed a few veered off toward the woods. I grabbed a flashlight from the truck and followed them.

The tracks were hot and cold, but like illegal poachers in the spring, I could sniff out a trail when I was looking for one. When I saw my dad’s Winchester was half buried in the sparse shrubbery a few feet ahead, I knew I was on the right trail. He’d shot his dogs, tossed his gun, and he was headed toward the neighboring property. As the puzzle pieces began to fit together, I dreaded what they would amount to.

“What the hell were you doing out here?” I muttered, and grabbed the rifle. Even through my gloves, my fingers were cold and numb. I hadn’t dressed for a trek in the snow, and my body was beginning to protest.

Pulling the rifle strap over my shoulder, I shined the flashlight in front of me, and trudged deeper into the woods. I considered turning around to grab another layer from my truck when I saw the neighbor’s house through the trees.

The windows were dark and the garage door was open. Given the uncertain circumstances, making my presence known would probably get me killed more than it would save me, so I shut my flashlight off and crept closer in the cover of darkness and thin veil of falling snow.

A vehicle was parked in the driveway out front, a small SUV that looked like it hadn’t moved in days, maybe longer. It was late and the unlit windows could’ve meant whoever lived there was sleeping or dead.

I hugged the shadows on the side of the house and peered into the garage. Without moonlight, I could barely make out the outline of a heap on the floor. I flicked the flashlight on; it was a discarded nylon car cover.

An open gun safe against the far wall caught my attention, and I stepped inside the garage. Some of the boxes from the shelves were sideways and upside down on the floor and what looked like the contents of a toolbox were scattered across the floor around the workbench. Someone had been looking for something in here too, and I had a feeling that person was my father.

My footsteps echoed as I walked over to the gun safe. A shotgun stood inside with a box of 12-gauge shells that belonged to it. Whoever it was, they hadn’t been looking for a gun. I ran my fingers over the strap of the Winchester hanging against my back. He hadn’t needed a gun or he wouldn’t have discarded his own.

Or, maybe he’d been looking for a different type of gun. I crouched down to the shelves near the bottom. A box of 9mms and an empty magazine were tucked in the corner, but no pistol.

I glanced at the door to the house. Someone could have it inside, but why leave the shotgun? I stared back down at the car cover. Or, someone took it with them when they left. I wondered what reason my dad might’ve had to take the neighbor’s car.

I clicked off the flashlight again. I would find out soon enough.

I walked to the door and tested the handle as quietly as I could. It wasn’t locked. Hoping this wasn’t some elaborate trap, I creaked the door open and peered into a dark dining room and connecting living space. There was no movement inside, and no sound, other than the refrigerator kicking on and off.

“Hello?” I said. Lifting my gun, I aimed it through the doorway. “I’m Officer Mitchell. I’m a state trooper. If anyone is in the house, please step out with your hands up now.” I waited with bated breath. There were no creaking floorboards or mutterings I could hear. “I am armed and entering the house. Do not shoot.” I cursed myself the instant I uttered the words. A crazy bastard wouldn’t give two shits if I wanted them to shoot me or not.

I had no choice. I needed to know why my dad was still here. I stepped further in, gripping my gun tighter with every step as I swept the living room. The air was frigid inside, a good indication no one was home, or alive, at least.

Shadows played with my eyes, and the living room was ransacked. The closet was torn apart, books were pulled from their shelves. Everything looked expensive, down to the fake plant in the corner of the dining room. They were wealthy, whoever they were.

I stopped outside the first door in the hallway, the only one that was visibly closed from where I was standing. Sidling up against the wall, I reached for the knob. “Hello,” I tried again with no answer. “Dad?” I twisted the handle and pushed the door open, stepping inside with my pistol held out in front of me.

A human form covered with a blanket lay at the foot of the bed. The sheets and comforter were thrown back; a lamp was broken on the floor. There was a curtain rod on the ground in front of me, and drapes in a heap against the wall. There’d definitely been a struggle.

I turned and headed down the hall to the next room. There was an office, and two other rooms, each with four-poster beds and matching furniture, that had been untouched. Other than a hairbrush with dark long hair in it resting on the vanity in the bathroom, there was nothing in there that seemed out of place either. The house was empty.

Lowering my weapon, I flicked the hall light on and stopped in the doorway of the first bedroom. The unease writhing inside told me it was my dad underneath the blanket; the trail had only led one way.

I bent over and grabbed the fleece blanket. Like a Band-Aid, I pulled it off. Thomas Mitchell lay underneath, his eyes closed and his mouth partially open. Blood covered his jeans and stained his flannel shirt. And his damn moccasin slippers were dirty from trekking through the snow. “Pop . . .”

I swallowed the swell in my throat and crouched down beside him. The light from the hallway was all I needed to see he’d been dead for at least a day. I’d known the chances of him surviving were low given so few people had woken up from the fever, but finding him in the fetal position, abandoned in a stranger’s house was heart-wrenching.

My eyes burned as I stared at the old man he’d become without my realizing it. Talking on the phone, was one thing, but I hadn’t seen him in nearly three years. Like some of the others, he’d survived the virus only to lose his mind afterward. By the looks of it, he had been killed in self-defense. The room was torn apart and someone had covered his body with a blanket, a gesture of remorse and fear, not pride or malice. A part of me felt guilty for not getting here sooner, even if I knew it would’ve prevented nothing.

Spotting shadows on his neck, I leaned closer. They were burns. I clicked on my flashlight and studied the strange markings. As my mind turned with possible scenarios, all I could think was that they looked like handprints—the thumbs overlapping around his Adam’s apple, the rest of the fingers gripped around the back of his neck. Even then, it didn’t make sense, unless the person’s fingers were on fire, which was impossible.

The fingermarks were smaller than a man’s, thinner than most too, and I could see the bruised impression of fingernails.

I glanced around the room again, seeing it differently this time. Photography hung in frames on the walls and an array of books filled a large case next to me. There were toiletry sprays and mists on the dresser, a pink jewelry box in the corner, and a bra stuck out from under the bed. A teenage girl had done this? It didn’t add up.

“Pop,” I breathed, staring back down at his neck. “What happened here?”

December 12

17

Elle

December 12

Snowflakes hit the windshield as we made our way down Seward Highway. The storm that had come in overnight kept us cooped up in the tower for longer than I’d hoped, but it gave me and Alex time to clean the mayor’s office of bile and the scent of rot. We’d draped the mayor in a blanket so that Sophie could come in and say goodbye.

I didn’t dare touch the body though. Despite the past few days, it was still difficult to be around death, and the virus was still dangerous for all we knew. It not only left bodies in its wake, but insanity and perhaps impossible, inexplicable . . . things, even if I was the only one who seemed to have experienced it. Who knew what it could still do to us.

I glanced at Sophie in the review mirror. She stared out the window into the darkness. On a normal Saturday night, she’d probably be home having dinner with her family or out watching a movie with her friends. Instead, she was grieving for her mom, and praying for her dad.

“He’ll see the note,” I told her. “He’ll come find you if he’s alive.”

She didn’t respond, but I didn’t expect her to. There was a slim chance he was alive, an even slimmer chance he’d make it back home or find her if he did. Getting from one part of the world to another seemed impossible now.

Alex turned in the passenger seat to look back at Sophie and the kids, dozing to sleep beside her. For having been only recently introduced to Sophie, Alex was attentive, more than I would’ve expected. The past few days changed a lot of things, though.

Under different circumstances, had my sister’s death been peaceful, I would’ve gone in search of her body to say goodbye and lay her to rest properly. I would have stayed to mourn instead of running away as fast as I could to find refuge. But our reality was gruesome and wicked. The smell of the quarantine areas made it nearly impossible to stomach. I knew she was dead. I didn’t have to see it. Mostly, I couldn’t bear to see what had become of her and have to remember her that way.

“How are you doing?” I asked. Alex put on a brave face—something I could tell he was used to doing, but the end of the world meant even the toughest would break eventually.

He rested his elbow on the windowsill and his hand on his head. “I’m fine,” he said, but it wasn’t convincing.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” I told him. “This is . . .”

“Insane?” He looked at me.

“That’s an adequate word.”

Alex bit the side of his cheek and shook his head. “Honestly, I feel like something is wrong with me for not caring that my uncle is dead.”

I’d felt the same way when I heard about Dr. John. “It doesn’t sound like you were very close, or that he was all that great of a person.”

“No, he definitely wasn’t. He only took me in to collect as much money as he could before I turn eighteen.” He glanced at me. “I’m actually surprised he didn’t step up the day my mom died. At least he would’ve had a better couch for me to sleep on.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “About your mom, I mean.”

Alex readjusted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation, so I changed the subject. “I won’t ask how you know, but I’m glad you could hot-wire the Pilot.” I grinned.

Alex’s gaze flicked to me and he scratched the back of his neck. “Sort of comes with the territory.”

“What territory is that?”

“Hanging out with the wrong crowd. When you move from family to family, you don’t have time to make the good kind of friends.”

Dr. John used to tell me horror stories about foster kids getting shuffled through the system, and the terrible families they had to live with. When I was younger I thought whatever my life was with him, it was better than the alternative. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized half of what he’d told me was to keep me close.

“Well.” I sighed. “I think it’s safe to say your street smarts will come in handy now. Lucky us.”

His mouth quirked in the corner. “Yeah. Maybe.”

We passed a sign for the city a couple miles out.

“I’ve never been to Anchorage,” Sophie whispered. “Not really anyway.”

“No?” Alex looked back at her. “Don’t worry, you’re not missing much.”

Sophie continued to stare out the window, though it was too dark to see anything. “We drove straight through from Fairbanks to Whitely.” I thought about the photo I’d seen of her in leg braces. She was like a porcelain doll in so many ways, from her pale freckled skin to the quiet hesitance in her voice that made her seem just as fragile. But beneath her mild manner stirred something more. I saw bits of my old self in her, a willpower she just hadn’t discovered yet.

Sophie unfurled a blanket and covered herself and the kids.

“Want me to turn the heat up?” I asked. I was so warm, I hadn’t thought to turn it up very high.

“I’m okay.” Sophie snuggled deeper into the corner of the door.

I stared out at the white road that stretched in front of us. Only a few more minutes until we had more answers and safety. We just had to get there.

“Everything okay?” I glanced at Alex. His gaze was a hot iron on the side of my face.

He stared at me a few seconds longer. “I think so,” he finally muttered.

My gloved hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Were you—uh—able to get any rest along with the others?”

He nodded noncommittally. “A little.” Alex leaned back in his seat, finally focusing somewhere else. “I’ve been thinking about what that guy said in that message from Hartley Bay.” He’d heard the radio broadcast yesterday in a final attempt to glean more information after the Internet petered out completely. Being in Alaska, it was hard to say if it was because of the frequent snowstorms or the lack of manpower to maintain the stations.

“What about it?” I asked.

“They have military, food—we’d be safe there.”

“Maybe,” I told him. “But getting there won’t be easy.” I pointed to the thick snow in the roads that prevented us from going more than thirty miles an hour. “Even with four-wheel drive it would take forever to get there. I’m not saying we can’t or shouldn’t, but I think we should check with the Coast Guard first.” The truth of it was, Hartley Bay would be our only other choice if the Coast Guard fell through, and I couldn’t think about that with only an hour of sleep and four other people to take care of.

“Yeah, I hear you. Maybe there’s another broadcast.” Alex leaned forward and turned on the radio, to static at first, then he pressed SEEK.

“—conspiracy!” a voice thundered on the other side. “I’ve been saying it for years and I’ll say it again: it was bound to happen. You give the government too much power and they’ll abuse it, just like they’ve done in every war since the dawn of time.”

“Not this guy again,” I muttered as Alex turned the volume up.

“They use us to fight their wars because we’re expendable to them. This virus only proves it. Why else wouldn’t they have found a cure? Why else would so many of the very few of us who have survived be out of their goddamn minds? I’ll tell you why,” he continued. “It’s all part of their plan—it’s just another genocide, only this time it’s disguised as a plague.”

Sophie sat forward, gripping the back of my seat. “Do you think it’s true?”

Alex shrugged. “Maybe. I mean, it could be.”

“All the lunatics out there now,” the radio voice continued, “if they weren’t crazy before, they surely are now, and what better way to get rid of the rest of us than trial by fire—they want to see who will survive because it’s survival of the fittest and that’s who they want. The strong. The mighty. They’re—”

I clicked off the radio.

“Hey—” Alex grumbled.

“We don’t need to hear this,” I told them.

“Who is that guy?” Sophie’s voice was barely a whisper.

I shook my head. “I have no idea, but he’s clearly cracked.”

My seat trembled as Sophie clung to it tighter. “What if he’s right?” She’d already been through enough for one day, I didn’t need the psycho on the other end of the radio adding to her nightmares.

“What if he’s not?” I asked, glancing back in the mirror. “He’s just stirring the pot. We have enough to worry about right now, we don’t need to add his conspiracy theories to the mix.”

“The government could do something like that,” Alex said, and it wasn’t a question, but a legitimate concern. “I’m just saying. They could do a lot of things—they have done a lot of things—things we don’t even know about.”

“Yeah, but all governments around the world?” I asked. “They wouldn’t be able to agree that the sky is blue or that the earth is round out of spite, let alone plan a mass genocide of the entire world.” I leaned back in my seat and let out a heavy breath. “He’s just a loon trying to scare everyone.”

“It’s working,” Sophie muttered.

“Exactly, which is why we don’t need to listen to it. It’s not helping anything, and I’m not worried about the world, I’m worried about the five of us. He’s a conspiracy theorist, he said it himself, and we can’t get distracted with what-ifs and maybes when we’re trying to figure out what the hell we’ll do, here, in this moment.”

Alex wanted to argue with me, but gratefully, he didn’t. I was exhausted and we’d been through enough for the time being. I couldn’t handle another heap of bullshit quite yet. “We just have to stay focused,” I murmured, mostly to myself. “See what the Coast Guard have to say—”

“Did you see that?” Alex sat forward in his seat.

I peered through the falling snow, toward the exit as we drove closer. One light flashed. Then another. It was a roadblock at the Brayton Drive exit, and I slowed.

“It’s the Coast Guard.” Sophie pointed to a man in a Humvee at the roadblock. Cars were stopped along the turnoff, but the engines were off. The coastguardsman was the only person I could see. He was there, living and breathing. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cry with joy or hold my breath.

I followed the path worn in the snow toward the coned-off area where the man was parked and brought the Pilot to a stop. He climbed out of the Humvee and hurried over, looking a bit worse for wear; he was unkempt, his uniform was tattered, and he was underdressed given the weather. Then again, it had been a long night for all of us. I couldn’t imagine what the Coast Guard had been dealing with.

I rolled down my window as he drew closer.

“Evening, Miss.” He tried to smile welcomingly, but he blinked and shivered in the snow. “I’m Petty Officer Donahoe. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a car. You’re a welcomed sight.” His grin widened and a flake of floating snow caught in his mustache.

“So are you.” I nearly laughed with relief. I couldn’t contain my smile. “We were just in Whitely . . . It’s not good,” I said quietly.

Officer Donahoe shook his head. “No, it’s not. None of it is. We’re rounding everyone up at the bus depot by the trooper detachment. Just take this exit here and head to Tudor Road.” He pointed down the turnoff. “You’ll see the signs.”

“But what’s happening?” I asked. “Does anyone know? I mean, how much danger are we still in?”

He smiled and held up his hand. “I know you’ve got a lot of questions, Miss. But there’s protocol and all that. They’ll fill you in when you get to the station,” he reassured us.

I nodded, but was anxious for answers and reluctant to move on until I got some. “Thank you,” I muttered, even if I had a feeling they’d be tight-lipped about it. “Even in chaos they won’t tell us what we need to know,” I said, rolling up my window as I pulled off the highway.

“Especially in chaos,” Alex echoed. “Did you see his hands?”

I glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“They were practically blue. He didn’t have gloves on.”

“He was sitting in his truck before we pulled up,” Sophie said, though it sounded like she was searching for reassurance. “He didn’t need them in there.”

We all stewed in silence as I headed into the city. It was huge and sprawling compared to Whitely, and yet it was eerily still, just as it had been when I was stopped on the overpass. It was difficult to imagine there were any survivors at all, but again, we were alive, so there had to be others.

Spray-painted signs and cones marked the turns to the bus depot, and I felt a strange sense of excitement the closer we drove. The officer said there were others, and seeing them would help it feel a lot less like we were the last five people on the planet.

Turning at the last sign, I pulled into the parking lot. It was filled with cars just like I’d hoped. To the right of the bus depot was a complex of industrial buildings, and I could imagine all of the offices bustling with what city officials and lawmen and women remained as they scrambled to figure out what to do with all of the survivors.

I pulled into a vacant spot at the edge of the lot and shut off the engine. We’d finally made it. I unclipped my seatbelt, but none of the others moved. I glanced back at Sophie, staring out the windshield toward the bus station. “What’s wrong?”

“What will happen when we go in?” Sophie asked. “Are they going to separate us?”

Alex looked back at her, then at me. In my excitement to get answers and find a sense of community again, I hadn’t thought about what would happen to us after.

I turned in my seat to face them both. “I won’t let them separate us. They have no reason to.” It was a true statement. I had no idea what protocol would be, but I would do everything I could to make sure we remained together, for now at least. I looked Alex in the eyes, seeing the fear I knew all too well in them. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m your only living relative, all right?”

He nodded.

There was no getting around the fact that our lives would change again once we knew what was going on and how the Coast Guard were instructed to handle all of this, but we needed to know so we could start to move forward and have some semblance of closure.

I looked at Sophie, waiting for an agreement.

“All right,” she finally said.

“We stick together,” I whispered. “We don’t split up, not until we know what’s going on.” I nodded to the kids. “Let’s wake them up before we freeze to death out here.”

Sophie unbuckled Thea’s seatbelt as I turned forward once again to gather myself. We were here. We were safe. We would have answers and protection—the kids would have protection.

Alex climbed out of the passenger seat and opened the back to help with Beau. “We’re here, bud. Time to wake up.”

I got out of the car and pulled the pistol out from under the seat. The Coast Guard didn’t need to know about my gun until they found it for themselves. Sophie watched me as I shoved it in my waistband and pulled my shirt and coat over it. “Just to be safe,” I said, flashing the most reassuring smile I could. I grabbed my wallet from the center console, then I shut the door. Someone had already tried to kill me, and now I had four humans to protect. The way things had been going, I didn’t think anyone could blame me for being prepared.

“I’m still tired,” Thea whined as Sophie bent down to zip her jacket.

“I know. We’ll get to sleep more soon.” She took Thea’s little, mittened hand in hers and we headed around to Beau and Alex on the other side.

Together, we walked toward the bus depot building. “Stick together, okay you guys?” I looked specifically to Thea and Beau. “We’re a family if anyone asks.” Beau’s head tilted, uncertain. “That way they’ll keep us together,” I explained. They both nodded.

“Is this where the police are?” Beau asked. He hadn’t spoken all that much since they showed up at Sophie’s, but his voice was wary enough to know he was worried about something.

“I don’t know,” I told him. “But there will be people here who can help us.”

Beau peered at the domed-like building, but said nothing else.

The five of us walked briskly through the snow, toward the entrance. The wind was biting cold, even if the snow was only falling intermittently.

The depot was large and surrounded by a parking lot, one luckily big enough for everyone to park. As we approached the large, glass double doors, I’d expected to see hordes of people standing inside. Instead, people were sleeping on cots lined up against the wall, and the main floor was practically empty.

When we walked through the doors, only a few people milled around on the other side of the building. They seemed more like passengers waiting for a late-night bus than survivors seeking refuge. The ticket counter was empty and dark, clearly unused. There were no coastguardsmen hustling around or radios crackling in and out. And it didn’t smell right, either. A scent I couldn’t quite put my finger on lingered in the air.

There was nothing here—no stock of food or water. There were no EMTs or even a buzz of worry, just a dozen or so people sleeping and a few others talking on the other side of the room.

“Hold up.” I held up my hand, and we stood at the entrance as the door came swinging shut. Something didn’t feel right. It was hard to tell if it was the fire inside me roiling or if it was fear of what I couldn’t see or sense. “Stay here,” I whispered.

“Elle—” Sophie reached for my arm.

“I’ll be okay.” I looked her in the eyes and offered her a reassuring smile. I could feel the fire in my fingers, hot and aching, and knew if anyone in here would be okay, it was probably me, even if I feared finding out either way. “Alex,” I said, glancing at the car. “If anything happens, you start that thing again and you get everyone the hell out of here.”

His dark eyes were wide, but he nodded with understanding.

Turning on my heels, I walked swiftly toward the two men at the other end of the room whose faces lit up when they noticed me approaching. I glanced at a frantic woman, pacing back and forth in front of someone sitting in a chair against the furthest wall. The pacing woman’s clothes were wrinkled, and she looked a little worse for wear, but I felt the same way. At least she was alive, and she had someone with her. Maybe the place was a funneling station and they would tell us where to go from here.

I walked toward her, curious what she knew. The two men a dozen yards away eyed me, but I wanted to talk to her; she wouldn’t still be here if she didn’t feel safe, and woman-to-woman, she would be straight with me.

“Excuse me,” I said, stopping beside her. “Ma’am—excuse me.” I raised my voice, noticing the woman with a short dark bob that sat in the chair across from her. Finally the pacing woman noticed me and looked up, hurrying toward me.

“Hi. I’m Elle,” I offered, forcing a smile. I wondered if this was a situation where pleasantries were expected. “Um, where the hell is everyone?”

“Oh,” the woman grinned. There was a flicker in her shimmering eyes that lit the deep lines of her face and the dark circles under her eyes. “Aren’t you pretty,” she said, like I was a five-year-old girl. “Just like my sister.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re just like my sister, Trish.” She nodded behind her with an unnerving smile, at the woman in the chair. “Hurry, come say hi.” Her foul breath hit me in a wave and I had to turn my face away.

Whatever apprehension I’d been feeling flared to blaring alarm.

“Come on.” She waved me closer to her sister, unmoving from where she sat like she couldn’t be bothered to stand. “You’ll love her. We’re just sitting down for tea.”

But as I drew closer, the hair rose on the back of my neck and arms, and my footsteps, along with my smile, faltered. Her sister’s eyes were painted on, her legs and arms crossed and unmoving. Her sister wasn’t her sister at all. She was a mannequin.

I stumbled back.

“Come,” the woman said, tugging on my arm. “You’ll love her.”

I yanked my arm away, glancing between the crazy woman and her giant doll.

Shaking my head, I turned on my heel. “We’re getting out of here,” I said, loud enough the kids would hear me.

Fear darkened their faces.

“Now,” I told them.

“Where are you going?” the two men behind me said, but I didn’t stop to chat. I knew they were following behind me.

Sophie and Alex turned the kids toward the exit as the door opened and the officer from the Coast Guard stepped inside.

“You made it,” he announced.

“No,” I stopped behind the kids. “We’re leaving.” I grabbed Thea’s hand. “Let’s go.”

Donahoe raised a gun and aimed it at me. “No. No. I don’t think so.”

I gripped Thea’s hand tighter, nearly crushing it.

“I told you it’s been a while since we’ve gotten anyone new. You can’t leave so soon.” He said it apologetically but I could see the delight in his eyes.

I took a step back and bumped into a hard body, then spun around. The two men were right behind me, the five of us surrounded by three men, one with a gun.

Letting go of Thea’s hand, I nudged her closer to Sophie and the others behind me. “Let us go,” I said with false bravado, and pulled the pistol from my waistband. “And I won’t shoot your friend.” I stepped as close to the wall as I could so I could see the three of them, and aimed the barrel at the tallest man who looked like he could do the most damage, especially since he was the closest to us. Like he could read my thoughts, the tall one smirked, and a wave of chills washed up my spine.

“I will kill you,” I promised him.

The kids scooted up beside me. I could feel their warm bodies and hear their whimpers. The men must’ve taken me half-serious because they stopped a few feet away.

“Kill who, Ted?” Donahoe asked. “Meh, you don’t want to kill him. Then Kathy there, having her little tea party, will get all worked up, and trust me, that’s no good for anyone.”

I glanced from Kathy creeping closer, to Ted, watching the way his eyes sparkled with excitement as Donahoe carried on beside me. All of their clothes were dirty, but Donahoe was in uniform, and even Ted wore a neon vest like he worked for the city or maybe the Coast Guard too. Regardless, they were definitely insane with zero desire to help us.

“Maybe not good for you,” I seethed, my gaze shifting between the two lascivious men who were getting their jollies off watching us fidget in fear. “But one of you will be dead, and I’d be okay with that.”

“Look lady, you kill one of them, then I kill one of you,” Donahoe said. “Capeech?”

My gaze darted to him as Sophie gasped. His gun was aimed at her chest. Then Ted grabbed onto Thea, pulling her into him, and she screamed.

“Let her go!” I shouted. One gun was pointed at Sophie and a lunatic had Thea. “You won’t hurt them,” I blurted, praying it was true. They wanted us for something or they wouldn’t have tricked us into coming here. They could’ve killed us on the road if that was their intent.

Donahoe shrugged. “Correction—we don’t want to hurt you all, at least not yet. The meat’s more tender if we don’t.”

I nearly dropped the gun and had to steady myself so as not to stumble back. I glanced around the room, realizing the people on the cots were either dead or they weren’t real, just like Kathy’s sister. I couldn’t tell which with the blankets covering them. This place wasn’t a funneling station, it was a corral and they’d herded us here like cattle.

“But, you know, killing you now or later, it doesn’t really matter much. Either way we get what we want in the end.”

“Sick motherfuckers,” Alex growled, and Sophie had to grab onto him as he took a step forward so that he didn’t get himself killed.

Beau trembled against my leg, grabbing hold of me and crying for his sister.

“What are you waiting for then?” I asked, trying to keep them talking while I formulated a plan. I could kill Donahoe who had the gun, but I wasn’t sure the others didn’t have a weapon they weren’t showing me. It would be stupid of them not to, and Ted had Thea. “What do you want?”

“I’ll take you,” Ted said leaning in as close as he dared with my gun still pointed at him.

Thea’s cries turned into screams again and Kathy hurried closer, shouting nonsense in reply. It’s like she wasn’t even human anymore, but a starving wildling needing to feed.

“Shut the kid up,” the other man growled. “Shut them up! Shut them the fuck up!” He pushed Kathy away and she fell onto the ground. He kicked at her, like she was a dog he had to teach a lesson, and she whimpered like one too.

A gunshot rang through the building, piercingly loud, and we all ducked instinctively. Donahoe fell to the ground, writhing in pain, and I aimed my Glock at Ted’s chest as he stood in temporary shock, watching as his friend collapsed to the ground. I pulled the trigger.

Ted fell to his knees, then I shot him again for good measure as another shot rang through the air, taking the lunatic beside him down, dead with a single shot.

The doors on the other side of the building flew open and Kathy ran out into the winter night screaming.

A man came out from behind the ticketing area, one I hadn’t seen yet. My gun shook in my hand as I aimed it at his chest, adrenaline whooshing through me.

“I will not hurt you,” he said slowly, carefully. His voice was low and reassuring, but I wasn’t sure I trusted it. He held up his hands so I could see them, and his gun. Had he not just shot two of the men who were threatening to eat us, I wouldn’t have believed him for a single second, but I lowered my gun, registering the kids, crying in a human ball on the floor.

Frantic, I spun around. Alex and Sophie covered the two children, all of them with their hands over their ears and tears streaming down their faces.

Donahoe was crumpled in front of the door barely breathing, but he wasn’t dead yet.

The man with the gun stepped closer. He was huge with broad shoulders and dark features, like most Inuit descendants. He would’ve been fearsome had I any time to think about it before he trained his pistol on Donahoe.

“Cover your ears,” he told us. He looked at me and lifted an arched eyebrow. “And look away.” He nodded at the kids.

I covered my ears but was unable to look away as he shot Donahoe in the head. The gunshot echoed through the building, and I waited contentedly as the dead man’s chest fell for the final time.

18

Elle

December 12

Even with a flannel blanket wrapped around me, I was still shaking. I’d shot a man—I’d gone from never hurting a living soul to killing two men in a span of forty-eight hours. I massaged the incessant pounding in my head, desperately trying to keep it together until I knew more about our mysterious new friend. His house was shabby chic with a touch of glam, which I hadn’t expected. It felt normal, which was nice for a change, and the warm scent of vanilla hung faintly in the air.

Books and folded maps were stacked on the side table next to the plush leather chair across from me in the living room, and a satellite phone lay on top. Our host hadn’t said much, but he was clearly capable. After the bus depot we’d followed him back here. After he’d told us to eat whatever we wanted in the kitchen and pointed to the bedrooms upstairs, he’d disappeared outside and I hadn’t seen him since.

Thea moaned in her sleep, and I peered down at the pallet of blankets Alex and Sophie had made for the four of them on the floor. It turned out they hadn’t wanted food or space—they were only concerned about not being separated from each other. They craved warmth and needed rest, which outweighed any apprehension they’d had about being in a stranger’s house.

I watched the four of them, bodies rising with rhythmic sleep. The sound of their soft snores made my eyelids begin to droop, even if my mind was a muddied mess.

The front doorknob clicked and opened, and our generous host stepped inside. It seemed silly not to know his name, but there hadn’t been a good time to exchange pleasantries. A bottle of amber alcohol sloshed in his hand as he stopped in the entry, staring down at the kids camped out on his living room floor.

“Safety in numbers,” I whispered.

He glanced at me huddled in the corner of the couch. Then he looked at the flicking candle beside me.

“I left the lights off, like you said. I hope the candle is okay.” I prayed it was. I hated the darkness. “I saw the matches above the fireplace and—”

“It’s fine,” he said and glanced around the room, like he didn’t recognize it or maybe just didn’t know what to do with himself now that it was inhabited. He stepped over Sophie’s feet, sticking out from beneath her blanket, and he shrugged off his coat and tossed it on the stairs. His quiet reserve and fortitude made me think he might’ve been a trooper or military.

“I don’t want to risk anyone noticing the lights through the drapes,” he explained. “The candle’s fine.” He claimed the leather seat beside the unlit fireplace. His stubble seemed thicker in the flickering shadows, his features harder and more mysterious.

“I understand.” I wanted to be invisible too. I pulled the blanket up around my neck.

“You can turn the heater up,” he said, eyes shifting to the staircase. “We might as well use it while we’ve got it.”

“It’s okay,” I told him. I wasn’t cold—I wasn’t sure I would ever be cold again at the rate my insides were burning—but the blanket brought me comfort and I gripped it tighter. “How much longer,” I asked. It was one of the many questions on my mind. “Until the power goes out, I mean?”

He let out a breath and stared into the empty hearth. “A couple weeks. Maybe less. Between the storms and lack of maintenance, it won’t be long.”

I’d assumed as much, and even though I dreaded the day, I was too exhausted to care. “What were you doing at the depot?” I couldn’t help but ask the question that had been stirring for hours.

He finally looked at me. “I was at the trooper outpost across the parking lot getting this file of maps and saw you drive in,” he said, nodding to the folder he tossed on the floor by the side table when we’d first arrived. “They’re going to help me plan where I’m heading next.”

“I see.” My voice was barely a whisper as what now blared like a bullhorn in my head. I had planning to do too, and I didn’t even know where to start. At least we were safe for the night.

“Thank you, for everything,” I said. “It’s hard to trust strangers right now, but you’ve been very kind.”

He looked at me, and just as quickly he glanced away. “You’ve used a gun before?”

“Oh, uh”—I sunk lower into the couch—“yes, but not like that.” The weekly practice had been for self-defense. But shooting at a target down range was nothing like staring down at a human being that would never breathe again.

“It’ll get easier.”

“It already is,” I thought aloud. The gratification I felt, knowing Thomas or Ted could never hurt or frighten someone again, made me sick to my stomach. Killing people wasn’t something I wanted to be easy, yet part of me hoped it would continue to be.

He studied me a moment, the candle flickering as I let out a deep breath. “You’re holding yourself together pretty well.” I wasn’t sure if it was a skeptical observation or a compliment.

I laughed, if a little hysterical. “I’m waiting for it all to catch up with me.” I leaned my head back on the cushion and stared up at the ceiling. “I had a mini breakdown earlier, but I think I’m due for another.”

“Only one so far?” he said wryly.

“In the last six hours.” I smiled at him.

His amusement faded and his gaze shifted to the bottle in his hand. It was bourbon. He hadn’t opened it yet, but he gripped onto it so hard his knuckles were white. “You’re lucky then.” He turned it around in his hand, eyeing it like he wasn’t sure he really wanted any. Drinking was definitely one way to deal with the world ending; I’d done that already and woke up with glowing fingers. I figured it was best not to tell him that part though.

“What happened tonight is only the beginning of whatever comes next,” I said. “It will get worse before it gets better.”

“Yep,” he drawled, and I watched the battle inside him end. The demons won, and he shut his eyes and took a long pull from the bottle.

“I’m Elle, by the way.”

He pulled the bottle from his lips. “Jackson,” he exhaled and rested the bourbon in his lap. He glanced over at the kids. “Are they all yours?”

I shook my head. “We met last night.” I peered down at Alex curled up in a ball of blankets, sleeping like he hadn’t in days. Beau was sprawled out beside him with his mouth open, snoring softly. “But I guess they are now, aren’t they,” I realized aloud. “They were the only survivors I found in Whitely.” It already seemed like so long ago as my mind grew fuzzy with warmth and the promise of sleep. “My sister was gone, but they were there.”

Jackson stared at me, but I didn’t take it personally. It wasn’t even at me, he was staring through me, at a memory that made his permanent frown deepen and his knuckles whiten again. He was disappearing to somewhere dark inside his mind before my eyes.

“This is a nice condo,” I said, trying to reel him back in. I had a hard time imagining such a mountain of a man living in a place like this. “It’s way nicer than my apartment in Seward.”

Jackson pulled his gun and holster off and set it on the floor next to his pile of maps. “It’s my buddy Ross’s place.” He nodded to a framed photo on the wall behind me. It was two troopers in uniform, Jackson holding a graduation certificate. A woman with wavy, long blonde hair smiled between them, her arms over their shoulders. “She’s pretty. Is that his wife?”

Jackson stared at the photo so long I didn’t think he would answer. Then, he looked away. “His sister, my wife.”

My mouth opened, and I blinked dumbly as I tried to think of what to say. “I’m sorry,” was all that escaped.

“Ross went to check on his wife.”

“I see,” I hated to ask, but I couldn’t help myself. “Is she okay?” I assumed I knew the answer, but I still hoped that maybe she’d made it. More survivors would make it seem like there was actually a chance everything would right itself again.

Jackson shrugged and took another drink from his bottle. “He was supposed to check in today.” He picked up the satellite phone. “You know as much as I do at this point.”

Aside from the soft slumber of sleeping children, the room grew silent. It was clear Jackson wasn’t sure he’d hear from his friend again.

“If he survived the fever, and he’s a trooper, I’m sure he’s fine,” I tried to reassure him, but it was clear Jackson didn’t want my sympathy. He preferred the bottle to conversation, and if his friend coped like he did, it might be days before Ross cared enough to check in. “I’m sure you’ll hear from him soon.”

Jackson’s eyes cut to me. “So, you’re an optimist then?” He smiled with feigned amusement.

I wanted to see a full, real smile. I could imagine it was wide and welcoming. Big guys had a way of surprising you with their big hearts, even if it seemed unlikely as Jackson brought the bottle to his mouth again.

“No,” I said. “I’m not generally optimistic. I’m one of the most miserable people I know, but—” I squeezed my gloved hands into fists beneath the blanket, knowing I had to be or I would lose my mind.

“But?”

“But I have to be as positive as I can, for them.” I nodded to the kids. “So here I am, trying to be optimistic.”

Jackson studied me more closely than before, his brow furrowing before he leaned his head back in his chair. “So . . .” He exhaled. “From Seward to Whitely to here, huh?”

“I was taking care of my stepdad’s estate—he died recently—”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I told him. “I’m not. He was a monster.” I ran my fingers through my hair and pushed Dr. John from my mind. There were worse things out there that could hurt me now. “I went to his estate in Eagle River, planning on selling it when all of this happened. I knew Jenny was sick, so I went to Whitely after that, hoping I would get to see her again . . .” I stared at the flickering candle flame. “She was already dead.”

Jackson took another swig of his bourbon before he stared quietly up at the ceiling. “My father lived in Eagle River,” he said, then was contemplative for a few deep breaths. “He had a mushing business for the tourists, up near the mountains.”

Cold-hot fear lapped up the back of my neck, and the fire inside me pulsated in tandem with my heartbeat. “He was a musher?” I whispered.

“The son of a bitch loved his dogs more than his own kid. He lost his mind though, at least, that’s what I think.”

I glanced back up at the photo of Jackson in his uniform and the certificate he held in his hand. Jackson Mitchell.

Thomas Mitchell. Tall and broad shouldered, just like Jackson, though Thomas had lighter skin and hadn’t looked like an Alaskan native. I saw Thomas looming in my doorway all over again, felt him grabbing onto my neck.

“Your mother?” I hedged, petrified to know the answer.

“She died a long time ago, with my baby sister in childbirth.” His head turned to the side. “You know, it was the strangest thing. The way he died . . . I can’t get it out of my head.”

“Your dad? What do you mean?”

“Someone strangled him.”

I could feel my fingernails digging into my palms through the gloves. “How could you tell?”

“I know what bruises around a neck look like. And you’d have to be strong to crush a man’s throat with your bare hands.”

Only bruises?

Jackson’s hard-set eyes fixed on me. “Would you think I was crazy if I told you I think it was a woman who killed him?”

I cleared my throat this time, the heat of the room and the low burn inside practically eating through me. I wasn’t sure how my cheeks weren’t on fire. “I guess a woman could be that strong,” I said, but the thing was, I wasn’t that strong, there was no way I could’ve done that under any other circumstances. “But what makes you think it wasn’t a man?”

He held up his large hands, twice the size of mine, and wiggled his fingers. “Small hands,” he said. “And fingernails. But there was something weird about it.”

My thoughts stilled.

“Burn marks.” He shook his head. “I’ve been trying to figure it out.”

Of course he was, because what had happened was impossible. And somehow the only decent adult I’d met since I’d woken up after puking my brains out was the son of the man I’d impossibly killed with my bare hands. “This world is unrecognizable now,” I rasped, trying to breathe through the lump in my throat.

Jackson needed to know it was an accident—it was self-defense, and I had no choice. His father would’ve killed me.

As a trooper, Jackson might’ve understood, but as a son? I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. I didn’t want to risk him throwing out the kids; and I wasn’t ready to figure this survival thing out on my own. And how did I explain the fire without scaring them all? The thought hadn’t escaped me that maybe they should be scared, and maybe I should be alone.

Tears burned my eyes and escaped the brim of my lashes. Just as quickly, I tried to wipe them away.

Jackson cleared his throat. “Are you okay?”

I shook my head. I wasn’t okay. I was probably losing my mind like the other crazy people running around the city, and it was only a matter of time before I did something to hurt one of the kids, the way I’d hurt Thomas.

I covered my face and tried to hold back the smothering despondency. None of this is going to be okay.

Thankfully, Jackson wasn’t a man of many words, and he stood up, his boots making the floorboards beneath the carpet creak. I heard the glug-glug-glug of bourbon sloshing into a cup, then it clanked quietly against the coffee table. “In case you need it,” he said, and his footsteps retreated up the stairs.

I waited until I heard his bedroom door shut before lifting my face. A mug full of bourbon sat on the coffee table in front of me.

Jackson had no idea who was sitting in his house, or who he’d saved. As the kids continued to sleep, I stared into the candle flame and I cried my eyes out as silently as I could.

December 13

19

Jackson

December 13

I woke to the sound of the heater clicking on, and the scent of something savory and sweet filled the air. I peeled my eyes open and blinked up at the ceiling. My head was a spinning punching bag and I felt just as beaten.

The bed squeaked as I rolled over. I’d passed out between listening to Elle’s intermittent sniffles and the ticking of the clock on the guest room wall. I glanced up at it; it was nearly noon.

Pushing myself up, I peered down at the quarter-empty bottle of bourbon beside the bed. It could’ve been worse; I could’ve downed the entire thing and been nonfunctional today. But I had a trip to start planning, one without Ross.

I heard a clang downstairs, which meant an intruder was stealing the silver, or the kids were still in the house. I half expected them to be gone when I woke up, but I knew they had nowhere else to go, especially since the Coast Guard wouldn’t be any help.

Grabbing my boots from the floor, I pulled them on, ignoring the laces. I wasn’t awake enough for that. I climbed to my feet, grabbed the bottle, and opened the door. Whispers filled the air, and footsteps pattered against the tile floor in the kitchen. Another pot clanked, and my stomach gurgled as I inhaled the aroma of bacon. I tried to remember the last time I’d eaten.

I raided Ross’s bathroom for deodorant, washed my mouth out, and splashed cold water on my face, before I headed down the stairs. It was weird waking up in his house, and yet it felt oddly comforting too. At least I’d slept, really slept, for the first time in days.

The living room had been cleaned up and looked just as Kelsey had left it, save for my things around the leather chair. The pallet of blankets was gone. The fancy pillows were put back where they’d been on the couch. It was like Elle and the kids had never been there.

“He’s coming!” one of them hissed, and the little girl scuttled out of the way as I turned into the kitchen. The narrow space was filled to capacity. The younger ones were putting plates on the table, their wide eyes peering up at me. The teenagers were behind the stove, the boy flipping a pancake while the girl drained bacon grease into a mug. The only one missing was Elle.

“Morning,” the older girl said, setting the grease pan in the sink. She was shy or scared, and I didn’t blame her for either. I hadn’t looked human for a while now.

I stood dumbly in the doorway. “Morning.”

“I’m Sophie and this is Alex.” Then, she nodded to the kids. “That’s Thea and Beau. We wanted to make you breakfast as a thank you for letting us stay here last night.”

“That’s . . . unnecessary,” I said as my stomach rumbled again. “But thanks.”

“Wow, that was a big one,” Thea said with a giggle, staring at my stomach. She couldn’t have been more than six or seven. “This is your seat right here.” She pointed to the chair at the head of the table. It was Ross’s spot during family dinners. I pulled the chair out and sat down as Alex brought over a plate of pancakes, Sophie following with the platter of bacon.

They all wore clean clothes and looked refreshed after their ordeal at the bus depot, more than I could say for myself, and they were more animated than I could ever be in the morning.

I was about to ask where Elle was, worried she might’ve thrown in the towel after her internal battle last night and left the kids with me, when the front door opened and she bustled inside. She was wearing a black down parka and beanie, and held up a frozen can of orange juice concentrate. “Look what I found,” she said, divesting her jacket.

“Yay!” Thea clapped.

“It’s her favorite,” Beau grumbled in explanation. They were definitely siblings, but as for the others, I doubted it.

Elle draped her jacket on the back of a dining room chair and handed the can to Sophie who was already pulling out a pitcher.

“Where’d you find that?” I asked, wondering if she’d walked all the way to the store just for juice.

Her cheeks reddened, and she shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “I, um, raided the neighbor’s freezer.”

Well, that was clever, seeing how they no longer needed it.

She cleared her throat. “I made coffee. You want a cup?”

“Please.”

“Black?”

“Definitely. I need all the help I can get this morning.”

Thea set an empty glass next to my plate. “Is it because you drink so much?”

“Thea—” Sophie chided.

I almost smiled. “Yeah, kid. Something like that.”

“My mommy drank a lot too. I think that’s why—”

“Thea!” Beau shouted at her.

Thea’s lips pursed and she glowered at him.

“All right,” Elle said, setting a cup of coffee down in front of me. “Let’s wait and argue after we’ve had breakfast.”

Sticking her tongue out at her brother, Thea blew out a breath as she climbed into her chair.

“Thanks for the coffee,” I said as Elle pulled out a chair beside Thea.

“Of course.” She cooed as she took a drink from her own steaming hot mug.

Thea eyed her, clearly disgusted. “I don’t drink coffee. It smells bad.”

“Good,” I told her. “It puts hair on your chest.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

I shrugged and lifted the collar of my thermal shirt, pretending to peer down at my chest. “I’d say so.”

“He’s teasing you,” Beau told her. “You’re so gullible.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh—”

“Beau, Thea . . .” Alex interrupted before they could go another round of back-and-forth. “Take a pancake and a piece of bacon, and pass them to Jackson.”

I helped Thea lift the plate of pancakes as her little arms shook, and I took one before passing it along.

Everyone settled into an uncomfortable, close-proximity silence. It was the worst kind.

I took a gulp of my coffee and watched everyone’s eyes darting around at one another. The only one who seemed oblivious to the awkwardness was Thea.

She picked up her glass of orange juice and slurped it down. Only when it was half gone did she come up for air. “It’s really good,” she gasped, and licked her lips.

“I’ll bet.” It wasn’t until I took a bite of bacon that I thought to say the same thing. I shoved the rest of it in my mouth without ceremony.

“I like a lot of butter on mine,” Beau said, and he put a small piece on Thea’s pancake and helped her spread it around. I hadn’t realized kids were such good buffers, and as difficult as I thought it might be to have them there, I appreciated that they were, too.

“I hope you like bacon and pancakes,” Elle said. “We didn’t want to wake you to ask.”

“I do. But I’ll eat anything,” I told her. “Something my wife always appreciated.”

Eyes flicked to me and the room grew quiet again, the sound of forks and knives clanking louder in the void of conversation.

Desperate for a distraction, I cut into my pancake. It was the first time in days, excluding my brief talk with Ross, that I had been around people, and even if it made me feel uncomfortable, I was strangely grateful for it too. “This is great, thank you.”

“Do you want syrup?” Sophie held up the container.

I glanced up at her and shook my head. “No. Thank you.” I forked a piece of buttered pancake into my mouth and decided I missed food more than I thought.

“I didn’t mean to snoop,” Alex said, “but I saw all the maps in your file of the backcountry. Are you leaving the city?”

“We heard about a safe place in Hartley Bay,” Sophie added. “Is that where you’re going?”

I shook my head. “I’m thinking about Whitehorse.”

Elle took a sip of her coffee. “What’s in Whitehorse?” She glanced away as she set her mug down. I could hear the hope in her voice, but it was misplaced. There was nothing there for them. Not like in Hartley Bay, if what I’d heard about it was true.

I glanced around the table at expectant faces. “A place far removed from all of this bullshit,” I said, forgetting the youthful ears at the table. “A lodge I’ve been to before, out in the middle of nowhere.”

“If you know where you’re going, then why do you need the maps?” Sophie asked, taking a bite of bacon.

“Because you never know what sort of trouble you’re going to run into, and those maps have dozens of locations the department has raided over the years, which might come in handy.”

Beau licked his fingers. “What kind of places?”

“Squatter houses, backwater distilleries—places where I might find shelter and supplies if I really needed them. I’ll be leaving in a few days,” I told them. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. Ross won’t need the place and he’s not the type that would mind anyway.”

“Thank you,” Elle said quietly.

We ate the rest of our breakfast without much more conversation, though Thea and Beau bickered back and forth when they grew too restless. I was lost in thoughts of Whitehorse and Ross; Elle and the kids were likely dreading their uncertain future, one I’d already come to terms with.

I looked at Elle, staring into her coffee cup. She was still wearing her gloves, which was strange, but it wasn’t my business, just like my quirks were none of hers. She stared so long I wondered if she would blink.

I imagined she was frantic inside, considering what she would do with four kids in a civilization that had only just begun to crumble. Conveniences would be gone. Safety would be fleeting.

While my plate was wiped clean, hers was barely touched.

“Elle?” Sophie said with a tentative smile.

Elle stirred from her fog, her eyebrows lifting. “Huh?”

“Are you okay? Do you want more of anything?”

Elle’s smile was forced and she shook her head. “Nope. I’m good. My stomach must’ve shrunk since it’s been a while since I’ve had an actual meal.”

Everyone seemed to buy that explanation, and it was probably true to some extent, but I saw the same fear in Elle’s eyes I’d seen the night before. She was on the brink of a breakdown. I couldn’t imagine my life six months from now, let alone what it would look like if I was twenty-something and suddenly had four kids to care for. Traveling would be more difficult; vehicles would have to be larger, which meant more fuel would be needed for their thousand-mile trek to Hartley Bay. Elle would have to provide enough food to feed five mouths instead of one, and she would have to find safe lodging for all of them, too. It was not going to be easy and yet I knew she was going to do it, I could see it in her false smiles and forced optimism as she tried to convince them and herself that everything would be okay.

Alex got up to get more orange juice for the kids.

“I’ll grab the coffee,” Sophie said, and my mouth was moving before I could stop myself.

“I can’t promise you’ll all be safer with me,” I told Elle just above a whisper. I had to get the words out before I changed my mind. “And it’s not going to be an easy journey, but you can come with me as far as Whitehorse.”

Elle’s eyes shot to mine.

I swallowed the rest of my coffee down and set my mug on the table. Hannah would want me to help them, and watching Thea stick her finger in the syrup and grin at me with reddened cheeks because she was caught playing with her food, meant I was a sucker already. It pulled at my heartstrings, and I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do what I could to help them get to Hartley.

I cleared my throat. “You’ll be on your own after that.”

Elle’s chin trembled and her eyes filled with tears that twisted my insides. A woman crying—the hardest thing to see. I stood up and pushed my chair from the table. “Thanks for breakfast everyone. I’ve got work to do.”

Elle reached for my arm, her gloved hand resting on mine. “Thank you,” she whispered and wiped a rogue tear from her check as quickly as it fell. “Thank you.”

December 14

20

Elle

December 14

The vertical blinds were cracked on the sliding glass door, allowing sunlight to filter in over the dining table during the first break in the snow. Jackson and I pored over unfolded maps and lists strewn across the table.

He was right, there were squatter shacks all over in the backcountry, and while some of them were noted on some maps to have been torn down on public land, others had been identified and forgotten.

I looked down at my ever-growing list of supplies we needed to accumulate before we headed out of the city. Yukon Territory was nearly an eight hundred mile journey on good roads, not accounting for weather or unplowed road conditions. According to the maps, the towns we’d pass heading east would be few and far between, and very, very small. While the thought of running into less people was inviting, the uncertainty of being so far away from what conveniences were left was disconcerting. We needed a few days’ worth of supplies at least, and I tried not to dwell on what would happen once we got to our destination.

Thea hummed behind us on the stool at the counter, oblivious to our consternation as she turned the printer paper she’d found in the office over to start a new picture. She seemed to be the most adjusted of all of us, like she’d already forgotten Whitely and the cannibals from the bus depot. Her cries still haunted me, and every time I closed my eyes, I saw the three flesh-eaters grinning at me, and could smell Kathy’s stinking breath and see the mannequins strategically placed to provide survivors with a false sense of safety. I envied Thea’s ability to shut it all away and draw pictures of her family, even if most of them were dead.

“I’ll try the AM stations again,” Sophie said from the living room. She and Alex had been searching the radio for a Hartley update all morning.

We needed a crank radio if we were going to receive updates during our journey, I realized. The last thing we needed was to miss an announcement that the sanctuary had fallen apart and a warning not to come. I added it to the second page of my list, below flashlights, extra matches, first aid kits, and candles.

“The kids should have their own packs,” Jackson said, taking a drink from his coffee mug. I was glad to see he was doing a little better than the night we’d met him. No longer lost in dark thoughts that had him swimming in bourbon. “And only the necessities.”

“You don’t think all of these things are necessities?” I asked, looking down at my list, which included the prepared food and clothing we needed to stock up on. I didn’t know much about children and teenagers other than they were always hungry and grew quickly.

Jackson shook his head. “There’s a difference between stock and necessity. When we have to hide or run—which you already know may be the case—we’ll have only what we can carry, the kids included.”

Thea looked up from coloring, and glanced worriedly between us.

“And,” he continued, “Their bags better have what they’ll need to survive.”

I cleared my throat. “Thea, why don’t you go see what Beau is doing upstairs,” I said with a smile. “Make sure he’s not getting into any trouble.”

“He probably is,” she said and rolled her eyes. With a giggle, she climbed down from the stool and skipped into the living room.

When I looked at Jackson, he was staring at me. “You can’t protect her from everything,” he said. “They need to understand how different life is now, and how to be prepared if they’re going to survive.”

His words were grim, but true, and while I appreciated them, Thea and Beau were still only children. It seemed like delicacy was needed all the same. “They already know what the world is like,” I told him. “It doesn’t have to be on their minds every waking hour.”

“Why not? It’s on yours.”

My eyes narrowed. “Yes, well that’s different.”

“Why? What if you’re not around to worry about them? They need to be just as alert and aware of what’s happening as you are.”

“I understand we all have a big learning curve, Jackson,” I said, taking a gulp of water. Fleetingly, I remembered that soon there would be no power or running water, and that was only the start. “But it will all come in time. It’s only been a few days of craziness. I don’t want them to be too horrified to close their eyes, like I am.”

Jackson’s ever-present frown deepened, then a flash of something softened his face, and he looked back down at his maps without saying another word about it.

While I understood his reasoning, I needed time to process and plan so that I could keep them as safe as possible, and keep my sanity too. Having to worry about the kids freaking out more than they already were was an added stress I didn’t need right now.

“I’ve been thinking,” I said, folding my arms on the table. “We have the Pilot and you have the Tacoma, but maybe we get another vehicle for Sophie or Alex to drive. We could take more supplies that way.”

Jackson didn’t bother looking up from his map. “That’s more fuel we’ll have to find along the way.” He drew a line with a Sharpie across the page, a straight shot from Eagle River to Whitehorse across the border. I looked at him, praying he wasn’t planning on stopping in Eagle River on our way out of Anchorage but was too afraid to ask.

“So, you think three vehicles is a bad idea?”

He took another swig from his mug and circled a town called Slana. “If we’re heading northeast on the highway, these are the towns we’ll be passing.” He ran his index finger along the road, tapping on Nelchina, Tolsona, and Mentasta Lake. “They’re unincorporated villages, most with no fueling stations or even stores, for that matter—everything is going to be few and far between. If we’re going to take another vehicle, we’ll need to bring as much fuel with us as we can, which means less of everything else. I’m not saying it’s a bad idea, but it’s something to consider.”

“Is that your nice way of telling me no?” I lifted an eyebrow. He’d made it clear he wanted to bring the necessities only, and it was his show, I’d already promised him that.

Jackson glanced up at me, his hazel eyes shifting over my face. All I could think about was how much I didn’t know about living off the grid or survival—whatever we were calling it. And it was all a reminder of how grateful I was to have him sitting across from me, even if he was the gruffest man I’d ever met. Not for the first time, I was curious to know more about him.

“What was it like?” I asked him, knowing I’d learn nothing if I didn’t at least try.

“What was what like?”

“Being a trooper? I used to cringe when I’d see them around town, wondering if I might get pulled over. And I’ve never even been in trouble with the law, well, not really.”

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Not really?”

I shrugged. “I ran away when I was seventeen,” I told him.

“A rebel,” he murmured. Intrigue danced in his eyes. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“How often did you go to the shooting range?” he asked.

I answered him with a question, “What makes you think I went to the shooting range?”

“The way you hold your gun—stiff, like you’ve only ever used it routinely. And hunting with a handgun is illegal, so I know you don’t use one for that.” This time he stared at me, expectant. “Do you?”

“Well, you said it yourself, I’m a rebel.”

“Let me guess, you used to go shooting with your dad—a father-daughter thing?”

“No,” I blurted, shaking it off with a laugh. “Definitely not.”

Jackson didn’t smile though, and the silence stretched longer than I was comfortable with. I opened my mouth to speak. “Well—”

“Because of him?” he asked.

His words shocked me, though I wasn’t sure why. Jackson was trained to read people. I glanced back down at my list. “Something like that. But, we’re getting off point.” I lifted my sheets of paper. “Maybe you should look over my checklist and tell me what you think the necessities are. It will save us some time, don’t you think? Then I can start scrounging them up.” While I said it with more sass than I’d meant to, it was probably the best idea I’d had all morning.

His dark eyebrow lifted.

“Seriously,” I said. “Help me make a list you’re comfortable with, and I’ll go to the mall and gather what we need—”

“You’re not going to the mall.” Jackson leaned forward, adamant. “Every person left alive has had that same idea. And trust me, that’s not something you want to worry about.”

“Okay, well—”

Shouting echoed from outside, followed by rapid gunfire, and Jackson and I crouched at the table. The instant I heard the first panicked murmur from the other room, I shot through the house. Jackson pulled his gun from his holster, and jolted after me into the living room.

“Get out of the window!” Jackson shouted. Sophie and Alex whipped around, the blinds rustling back into place. Jackson stilled them the best he could and peeked out one of the slits, eyes wide.

Beau and Thea ran down the stairs, eyebrows drawn together and fear glistening in their eyes.

“It’s okay,” I told them, pulling Thea into my arms.

Alex grabbed a baseball bat by the door as another spurt of rapid fire, somewhere around back, rang out outside, and I reached for Beau.

Jackson motioned all of us into the office to hide as he ran back into the kitchen toward the backyard. The rapid fire continued, my heartbeat keeping time, round for round.

“Who’s doing that?” Thea whined as we ran into the office.

Sophie pulled her up into her arms. “I don’t know, but we have to be quiet, okay?” Her voice was as unsteady as my legs, and I closed us quietly inside the room.

Shots went off again. It had to be a scare tactic. There weren’t enough people alive to be shooting at the masses.

Beau whimpered and grabbed hold of Alex’s legs, wrapping his arms around them like he thought he might leave. Alex clung to him tighter.

I peered around at the office. It was small and the five of us were cramped against the desk. The rapid fire ceased. Heavy breaths and rustling seemed to echo in the room as I listened for movement in the other room. The sliding glass door opened, slow and nearly silent, and I pulled the pistol out from the back of my pants.

I cracked the door open, looking for Jackson. He came around the corner before I heard his footsteps.

“We’re going,” he said. “Now.”

I hurried the kids from the room as a blood-curdling scream reached my ears from outside, followed by a screeching plea. I felt the color drain from my face. I could imagine whoever was out there begging for their lives on the promenade that weaved its way through the townhomes.

We stopped at the door and I reached for the kids’ jackets. “Come on,” I said, tossing Alex and Sophie theirs. I helped Thea slip into hers while Alex helped Beau. I hadn’t realized there was anyone in the neighborhood left besides us. Now I wondered how many there actually were.

“I’ll get the bags upstairs,” Sophie said.

“No—” Jackson shook his head. “There’s no time. Out. Now.” He glanced out the front window again, then opened the door. He peered around the carport and down the walkway before he stepped back inside. “Get them in quietly,” he told us, then looked at Alex. “Get ready to start the car—don’t start it until the kids are in and you see Elle coming out, I don’t want the gunmen to hear you too soon. Then, you drive.”

“Drive where?” Sophie asked, voice frozen in a whisper.

Jackson looked from me to Alex. “Get on Turnbull Street, and follow it to the park at the edge of the city. Don’t stop or turn back for anything. Park behind the ivy-covered fence. I’ll meet you there.”

I took a step toward him. “Jackson—”

“I’ll keep an eye out back,” he said. “Get them out,” he told me. “One at a time. No noise and keep your heads down. These crazy fucks don’t know we’re here yet, let’s keep it that way.”

I nodded as Jackson headed toward the backyard again to keep watch.

Heart racing a million miles a second, I peered out the front door and edged my way out to see down both sides of the walkway. There were vehicles in the carport, but no one was rushing out, like we were. There was no movement.

Thea stifled a scream and Beau wrapped his arm around her.

With a nod of understanding, Alex went out first, timid but unwavering as he made his way a few spots down to the Pilot, and he opened the driver door as quietly as he could. He slid into the front seat, and closed his eyes as he slowly pulled the door shut after him, careful not to latch it too loudly.

Rapid fire rang out again, and a cacophony of men shouting filled the afternoon air. It echoed in the world silenced by layers of snow.

Sophie took Thea in her arms, burying her face in Sophie’s neck and trying not to cry aloud for the lunatics to hear. I crouched down to Beau as he took Sophie’s proffered hand and looked him in his gleaming blue eyes. “We’ll be right behind you,” I promised. “Make sure your sister is all right when you get inside, okay? You’ll be fine, I promise. We’re right behind you.”

I had no idea if I could or should promise such a thing because I had no idea what was going on, but getting out of the complex was clearly paramount, and I wasn’t going to question Jackson. I nodded to Sophie. “Go.”

Quickly and quietly, she made her way to the car, her feet crunching in the snow as she took wide steps, Beau rushing to keep up. Once they were inside and all their heads were down, hidden from sight, I glanced behind me toward the kitchen. I didn’t know if I should run for the car or wait for Jackson, but before I could decide he hurried toward me.

“They’re lighting the buildings on fire,” he said, “smoking people out.”

My eyes widened.

“Get in the car and go. I’ll meet you at the park.”

I didn’t want to leave him, but I saw the decidedness in his eyes. I saw the fear. “Go,” he mouthed, and darted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, but I had four terrified kids waiting for me.

Peering out into the cloudy afternoon, I could smell the smoke in the air. I knew in that moment that we would never be completely safe, ever again.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, we sat on the curb in the alleyway on the far side of the park, hidden by the ivy wall. Alex had navigate the snowy, desolate streets well enough, and now we waited in suspended silence, watching the sky turn gray with smoke as the complex went up in flames ten blocks down. The gunfire had ceased, but there was no sign of Jackson yet.

“Where is he?” Sophie whispered from the back seat. “Shouldn’t he be here by now?”

Thea began to whimper. “Is he dead?” she squeaked.

“No, he’s not dead.” He could not be dead. But the tightness of my throat and the dread riddling my voice said otherwise. What the hell had he gone back for? What could possibly have been so important? He hadn’t been the most stable person since we’d met him, but he wasn’t crazy. He wouldn’t go out there after them, would he?

“What was that all about anyway?” Alex asked from beside me, his voice quiet as the horror settled in.

I wasn’t sure of the answer, other than more crazy assholes terrorizing innocent people.

“There he is!” Beau shouted and pointed over the console as Jackson’s charcoal gray Tacoma came around the corner.

There was a collective sigh, and tears filled my eyes as he got out of the truck, glancing furtively around as he lifted a rifle from the back and hurried over.

I climbed out of the car. “What were you doing? You scared the shit out of us.”

He lifted the rifle. “Grabbing this and the maps.”

“Now what are we going to do?” Sophie asked, opening the back door.

Jackson looked from her to me. “We’re going shopping and getting the hell out of this city.” He met Alex’s gaze and offered him the rifle. “Do you know how to use one of these?”

Alex nodded. “Not a rifle specifically, but I can figure it out.”

“Why?” I gulped. “Are they coming this way?”

Jackson shook his head. “We’re going to the mall,” he said and looked at me, clearly apprehensive. He handed Alex the gun. “Time for Gun Safety 101, the brief version.”

21

Jackson

December 14

I was only half surprised to see a vacant parking lot when we arrived at the mall, though it didn’t mean no one was inside. We parked the vehicles down the street so as not to bring too much attention to ourselves and made our way around the detached tire shop in the back.

“In and out,” I told everyone, as we made our way around the main building’s boxy exterior. I glanced over my shoulder at Elle bringing up the rear, her pistol in hand. While she seemed hesitant using it at the bus depot, she knew how to handle one, which was comforting. And her hesitation was understandable; I might’ve been worried if killing people came easy to her.

The mall was one story, the oldest one in the city, and definitely not the nicest or most popular, but we didn’t want flashy, we wanted forgotten. At least, I hoped. The adrenaline still surged through me, like an electrical spark in a combustion chamber, and my heart hadn’t stopped pounding since the house. There were at least five shooters, and they’d been out for blood. I wasn’t going to take on five of them, half with semi-auto tactical rifles and a penchant for fire. And a very small part of me hoped they would eradicate every last crazy fuck that still breathed, though I knew there would be no hope in convincing them I wasn’t one of them. The elderly woman I saw them shoot in the back of the head was proof of that. At least we were far enough away we couldn’t smell smoke anymore, even if we could faintly see it billowing from the other side of the city.

I stopped at the corner of the building and peered at a snow-covered front lot. There were two cars, one in the middle, the other at the furthest end, and both were covered in several days’ worth of snow. There were no new tire marks that I could see, which meant the place wouldn’t be crawling with survivors or completely ransacked.

Waving on the others behind me, I headed around to the front. In less than a week the world had been ruined, and I’d seen enough blood and havoc to know whatever this world was coming to was only going to get worse as desperation spread. That’s why we needed to stick together for the time being, and we all needed our own supplies. We couldn’t be caught unprepared again.

I held my hand up outside the door of Pete’s Pet Shop, a storefront just shy of the mall’s main entrance. I peered through the window, cupping away the glare from what little sunlight peeked through the clouds.

The outline of cages was all I could see, so I hurried past the window and continued toward the main entrance.

“We have to go in,” Beau said, and as I spun around to tell them to keep moving, he jiggled the door handle.

“Beau—” I bit out.

Elle reached for him and he glared at us both. “We have to go in—we have to let them out.” He locked eyes with me, single-minded and resolved.

Alex tried the door again first, trying to kick the lock open with his foot. I wasn’t about to shoot it open and draw unwanted attention, so I shook my head. “Let’s keep going.”

“There was a side door,” Beau said, and he backtracked and disappeared around the building, out of sight. Elle looked at me, torn, and followed the others after him.

“Damn it,” I muttered. Quickly scanning the road and sidewalks for onlookers, I jogged after the rest of them, my jaw clenched. Now was not the time to wander off.

A side door hung open behind Elle as she stepped inside. Biting my tongue, I gripped my gun and scanned the room as I followed. I was about to remind them of my only rule, to do what I say when I say it, if they were going to stay with me. The last thing I needed was one of their deaths on my conscience. But my curses fell short when I saw Beau and Thea crouched down next to two rabbit cages. Both rabbits—one black and the other gray and white—were dead.

The darkened store smelled of feces and there was little noise given the twenty-by-twenty foot space. Cages lined the walls, but given the cold temperature of the room, the power had been out in the shop—probably the entire building—for a while.

“They starved to death,” Beau said. With tears in his eyes and anger pinching his features, he stood and began opening every cage on the wall, animals dead or alive. Thea stared at him from her crouched position by the bunny cage, the rest of us also watching him as he became frantic.

“We have to let them out,” he cried. When one of the mouse cages wouldn’t stay open for the live ones to climb out, he began to cry.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Elle said softly, grabbing a bungee cord off of one of the dead rabbit cages that held the water bottle in place. She tied the mouse door open for him. “We’ll make sure they get free, okay?” She rested her gloved hand on his shoulder, and her green eyes were wide with promise. Even if Elle didn’t think she knew what she was doing when it came to taking care of the kids, it came naturally to her.

Beau sniffled and stuck his hand into the mouse cage, wiping the tears from his eyes with his other hand as a tan mouse ran up his arm. Its tail curved for balance and it trotted up to his shoulder. With another sniffle, Beau cupped the mouse in his hand and set it on the floor to freedom, then did the same thing with the last mouse alive in another cage.

It was more heartbreaking than I’d expected; the rabbits had no food or water in their cages, yet the aisle beside me was lined with it. The feeder crickets were dead, and so were the iguanas on the top shelf with no heat lamp. The similarities weren’t lost upon me. The world was stocked with surplus goods and supplies now, but staying alive long enough to use them would be the hard part. At least we had a fighting chance, the animals locked in buildings and cages around the world did not.

Though the store seemed empty, save for us, there were a half dozen aisles to be cleared, so I left the kids and Elle to mourn for the animals. I swept one aisle and then another, finding nothing more than cat and dog toys, bags of pet food, empty aquariums, some fish that needed food, and a row of chemicals and shampoos. There was little left we could do, and the looming list of supplies and food we needed to find, including a place to stay tonight, settled back into place.

I noticed movement against the far wall and a longhaired, gray cat jumped down from the top loft of its cage behind the glass wall of the cat kennel. It meowed when it saw me, and pawed at the glass.

“Beau,” I called.

The pitter-patter of feet approached me and Thea grabbed my hand as she jumped cheerfully up and down. “Kitty!”

I stared down at her, surprised by the strength in her little fingers wrapped around mine.

Beau ran over, his eyes lit up. “She’s alive!” he said, opening the door to the cat room.

“How do you know it’s a she?” I asked, but all the kids filed into the back room after him. Beau’s smile widened as Sophie opened the cage, allowing the cat to jump out. The cat purred and rubbed its gray body against Beau’s leg with another meow. He reached down, more than happy to pet her.

Alex scooped a handful of kibble from a small bin and poured it on the floor at their feet.

I watched the kids through the glass, realizing it was the first time I’d seen any of them really smile. Strangely, it gave me a slight glimmer of hope.

Elle walked up beside me, a stack of slow release fish food capsules in her hands. She watched the kids with a softness that made her look younger, more innocent. “Thank God for that cat,” she whispered. “It just made the day a bit more manageable.” She sighed, and I watched the way her mouth curved up in the corner.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” I said, “but they can’t keep her.” Realistically speaking, anyway. We didn’t even have a place for us to sleep tonight or know where we would be tomorrow, let alone have the capacity to carry around a cat and its food. “She’ll be better off on her own.”

Elle watched as Thea giggled at the cat rubbing up against her, and she sighed again. “Yeah, I know.”

* * *

The old mall was dark and some of the stores looked looted, but not as much as I’d expected. It was either forgotten about like I’d hoped, too far out of the city proper, or there weren’t enough people left to care what it had to offer. Unexpectedly at ease, we headed straight for O’Riley’s Rucksacks and Sporting Goods. The chances of it having been ransacked were nearly certain, if the boutique wine store was anything to go by, but the chances of gathering what we needed looked better by the minute.

Still, we kept to the shadows against the storefronts, checking the darkened windows as we went. Elle and the kids’ footsteps followed quietly behind me.

The air was stagnant and chilly, but other than the scent of stale grease that clung to the cool air from the food court across from us, there was no foul, human smell, which put me even more at ease.

The music store was untouched, so was the Sunglass Hut. The cell phone and As Seen On TV kiosks in the center of the walkway were still covered, like everyone had closed up for the night, assuming the next day would be like any other. The cigar shop looked looted, so did the hair salon; they were small shops and easier to break into. Or maybe someone had just left in a hurry.

I knew we might potentially walk into the worst situation yet. But somehow, deep down, it felt like it was going to be okay and I pushed on. My gut hadn’t steered me wrong before, and it wasn’t the booze talking this time. So when I saw the rolled-up gate to O’Riley’s, I held up my hand, hoping the five of them would listen this time and wait outside while I went in.

It was a large store, manageable, but dark, and I clicked my flashlight on as I examined the shadows. Boots and tennis shoes lined the furthest wall; a tent was displayed in the center of the room, fishing and camping gear on racks and shelves lined up beside it; guns and hunting gear were in a large display case to my left, and as I stepped closer, I noticed the case was open and the key in the door, though the cabinet wasn’t empty. In fact, it looked like nothing had been touched.

I scanned the coats and sweatshirts on racks scattered across the rest of the store—camouflage, colorful sports jerseys, and North Face alike. Some of the clothing was discarded on the floor, but the place wasn’t in shambles.

I wasn’t sure which terrified me more, that there weren’t enough survivors to raid the surplus of supplies they would absolutely need to survive the winter and protect themselves, or that there weren’t enough sane people left to think of survival in the first place.

Moving closer to the gun counter, I nearly tripped on something sticking out from under a clothing rack. When the flashlight lit up a khaki-covered leg and a boot, I stepped around the carousal of down jackets, expecting to find a body, and froze. My heart dropped into my stomach. My gun lowered instinctively.

It was a family.

A dead man lay on the floor, russet-face grayed and mouth open with days’ old vomit on the ground around him. His dark hair was longer and matted in areas like he hadn’t showered in a while, but even through his dark scruff and gaunt cheeks, I recognized him. Calvin Ayala—Drago’s human counterpart—was dead, and beside him, his wife was slumped against the wall, hugging an infant swaddled in pink-and-white striped fleece against her chest.

Calvin’s rucksack was open and only half full of supplies.

They hadn’t made it. I’d figured he and Drago had gotten separated amidst the confusion, but I hadn’t thought about Calvin after that. He’d been on paternity leave; the week of the virus was his first week back.

The baby and the wife died first, I guessed. Otherwise they wouldn’t be entombed in this place for all time. Calvin would’ve stayed with them, knowing he was going to die anyway and he likely welcomed it. I would have, anyway.

“Jackson.” My name was a whisper in the still air.

Calvin and his family, Hannah and Molly, my dad, Elle’s sister, the kids’ parents, and maybe even Ross were all dead—good people who’d met horrific ends, while so many wicked survived. It wasn’t fair, and it didn’t make any sense.

I stared at the baby girl, grateful I couldn’t see her, but my eyes burned and my chest ached all the same. I forced myself to swallow, to blink. I stared at the woman’s solitaire wedding ring and thought of Hannah’s—simple and classic. I didn’t want to forget those things. I couldn’t. And yet somehow it felt like I already was.

“Jackson?” Elle’s voice was both a beacon and a blaring horn. Being with her and the kids was a distraction I’d begun to welcome, and yet it felt disloyal to begin letting go so quickly.

“Jackson,” Elle said again, her voice soft and uncertain as she stopped beside me. I wasn’t sure which had come first, the tears or Elle covering their bodies with a blanket, but even as their faces disappeared, I could see Molly in my arms and Hannah in the hospital bed, and I wasn’t sure how I could’ve forgotten the chokingly bitter taste of misery.

22

Elle

December 14

After distractedly sweeping the rest of the sporting goods store, Jackson had left me, Sophie, Alex, and the children to fend for ourselves. He hadn’t said a single word, but I knew it was probably for the best, for his sake, at least. I worried about him, and I wanted him to be okay, but the look on his face had been a desperate sorrow, and I knew there was nothing I could do or say that could mend that. I’d never seen a man look so stoically undone.

Having warned all the kids to steer clear of the gun counter, without mentioning the bodies covered beside it, they perused the store in search of fur hats and beaver mittens—clothes that would keep them warm in the coldest situations.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about the family still hidden behind the coats and how gut-wrenching their final moments must have been. Had Jackson known them or had the sight of them hit too close to home? I couldn’t move them or lay them to rest, so I had to stay focused.

I stared down at the six backpacks lined up on the ground in front of me; one for each of us, assuming Jackson wanted one. I wasn’t sure he cared much about anything at the moment, but it was the least I could do.

Whatever our journey and wherever we were going next was going to be dangerous and cold. Windstorms, snow, and the unexpected were the only three things we could bank on moving forward, and we needed to be as prepared as we possibly could.

Hangers scraped against the racks, zippers whizzed up and down, and Sophie and Thea muttered as they looked for boots that were small enough to fit Thea’s feet.

I leaned back on my heels, the thinly-padded floor unyielding against my knees, and took a mental note of the kids’ backpacks: safety whistles with a built-in compass, hydro packs, fleece blankets, granola bars and a MRE, utility knives, headlamps, Chapstick, and travel toiletries. All the contents were evenly divided, and that was only half of what we still needed.

I set the rope, mini stove, butane, batteries, first aid kit, four additional MREs, and the matches aside for Jackson and I to carry. We had maps and ammo we’d have to carry too. Running my fingers through my hair, I tugged slightly on the ends like it might jostle thoughts loose, and I let out a deep breath. I was forgetting a dozen things, I just needed to take a step back and think.

This morning we’d planned out the next three days, now we were scrambling and off kilter. I felt off-kilter. Even if staying here the rest of the day was risky, it felt necessary. We had to land somewhere and had a trip to properly stock up for.

Jackson’s heavy footsteps preceded him as he returned to the store and stopped outside the entrance. Without ceremony, he plopped down. I could only see his shoulder and the bottle in his hand. He was in no shape to go anywhere either.

Sophie and Thea came around a shoe aisle, a pair of small fur-lined boots in Thea’s hands. She sat them by her pack as Sophie handed me two canisters of 36-hour survival candles. “Here you go.”

I smiled, stunned. “I was thinking about grabbing these,” I told her.

“Hopefully they’ll help you sleep better.” Her eyes were intent on mine, and she smiled sympathetically, almost knowingly, then tore open a pack of women’s wool socks to divide up among our bags.

“Soph—do you think these fit him?” Alex asked as Beau shuffled toward us in his untied boots.

She crouched down in front of Beau as my mind spun a little. Had I been talking in my sleep again? How did Sophie know I wanted the candles, no, that I needed them to sleep better? Even though Dr. John had been further from my mind than ever before, there were other monsters that still crept closer when the world was still and my mind was quiet. I thought too much of Thomas and his final breath. I thought about the men in the bus depot and how differently things could have ended.

I peered over my shoulder at Jackson. He sat in the same position, his head back against the door frame, only he’d begun to rotate a liquor bottle beside him. Once again, the bottle looked mostly untouched, like he was battling with himself over how much he should drink.

Thea stopped beside me, looking at Jackson quizzically.

“He’ll be okay,” I told her, but I might’ve been lying. I didn’t know Jackson much at all. He seemed strong, but it was what I couldn’t see that worried me most. First impressions could be deceiving, if I was any example, something Jackson would eventually learn. He would know the truth about his father one day. It just couldn’t be now, not when the kids and I needed him. I hated myself for thinking it, but I had no other choice.

“Maybe he needs a nap,” Thea said through a yawn. Grabbing two thinly rolled blankets from beside the packs, she shuffled down the aisle toward him. I didn’t have the heart to stop her as she waddled with a bundle under each arm. Her boots were a little too big, I noted, but they would have to do.

Tentatively, Thea stopped beside Jackson, staring at him briefly before she set the blankets on the ground and precariously scooted his bottle out of the way. Jackson looked at her, his prominent features shadowed in the unlit hall.

“It’s a little scary out here,” I heard her say, peering around the empty building. Ignoring her fear, Thea unrolled one of the blankets and draped it over Jackson, and then she unrolled one for herself and sat on the floor, leaning her back against him. Using the crook of his shoulder as a pillow, she pulled the blanket up to her chin and shut her eyes.

I wasn’t sure how long Jackson stared down at the top of her head, a few breaths at least, before he finally wrapped his arm around her. Squeezing her closer, his shoulders began to heave.

December 18

Four days later

23

Jackson

December 18

The wind was blistering cold; it felt like -50F and seeped through each layer with a 40mph bite. It stung my sweat-dampened skin, and each step was a struggle through the endless field of 4-foot snow as we made our way toward the shack. The storm howled and whistled as we stepped into the trees, their spindly tops complaining against it.

All of us needed shelter, and I prayed the shack was still there.

I peered behind me through frozen lashes, beyond the veil of snow toward the Tacoma and Explorer I could no longer see in the thickening storm. We’d gotten a bigger vehicle, but that was the first mistake in a slew of many. The Explorer would be no good to us if the engine continued to overheat, so we’d left it behind, for now, and continued our trek in the middle of a blizzard, to the cabin we hoped was still standing on the fringe of the wilderness.

Sophie followed my footsteps as best she could, making each of my imprints her own. Elle came behind her in our single file line, Thea wrapped in her arms. Alex brought up the rear, the snow meeting his knees with every step, and Beau clung to me, growing heavier by the second. The windchill was numbing, and the packs on our backs might as well have been made of stone, weighing us down as we trudged through the tree line.

I’d been too busy worrying about ghosts and crazy people to have considered the possibility of freezing to death. But I could imagine it now. Winter was relentless and didn’t care that the week had been fraught with one hurdle after another—food scavenging, finding safe shelter, snow drift road closures, car issues—the list went on. For all we knew, the shack—our final saving grace—was buried in ten feet of snow, untended and left to the elements since the squatters’ removal two years ago. Or, maybe someone else had the same idea I did, and they might not take kindly to visitors.

Either way, there was no turning back now. The storm worsened, and I closed my eyes, imagining the map tucked inside of my pack and Copper Creek that snaked beyond the patch of pine trees jutting from the surrounding snow. We just had to make it another quarter mile. A few more steps . . . a dozen more heartbeats.

Beau gripped onto me tighter and my arms strained. It had been nearly forty-eight hours since we’d set off for the Yukon, and we had only gotten as far as Copper River Valley, somewhere around Chistochina, an unincorporated village only halfway to the Canadian border. Despite what happened next, we couldn’t continue like this. Modern man hiking in the savage north without the proper equipment or know-how was suicide.

My muscles burned and ached with exhaustion as we stepped over a fallen trunk. I told myself everything would be okay; it was freezing but we were insulated well enough, even if the situation wasn’t ideal. No one would die, even if it felt like we already were. I told myself we were close, that we just needed to get over the crest of the hill and the cabin would be right there, abandoned and worse for wear, but it would be there, and we would be fine.

We would be fine.

Glancing back, I took in three bobbing, hooded heads, slowly coming up the hill behind me.

They would be fine.

The trees groaned from above and snow clumps fell to the ground like falling bricks. Everything creaked—the scant branch canopy above, my bones brittle with cold.

When the frozen river came into view, my looping reassurances fell short. I scanned the bank, finding only pines, spruces, and an unending white. Was the cabin gone or had my navigation been off? Was it still a quarter mile north? My heart, pounding from exertion, dropped into my stomach.

“Is that it?” Sophie asked, her voice muffled by the wind. She pointed further downriver, to a thicket of leafless trees surrounding a shack no bigger than an en suite. I could barely see the rooftop, but it was all the fuel I needed.

My feet moved with renewed purpose as I schlepped down the hill. The snow crumbled beneath each step, but I barely noticed it. The exhaustion in my bones was only a distant ache. The numbness of my face would soon wear off.

We would be fine.

The time it took to get to the cabin felt painstakingly slow, even if our pace quickened. As all the possible scenarios of what might be awaiting us played through my head, each felt possible. Not even the most dire possibilities frightened me; they were more bothersome than anything, taking up space in my mind when I needed to find solutions instead. If I had to dig, I would dig. If we had to pull whatever dangers were inside the shack out, I would—if we couldn’t get in and I had to attempt a snow cave, I would do that too.

As the cabin—a patchwork of wood and scraps of metal—came back into view through the trees, I noticed a small steel pipe chimney, and searched for a door. It was faintly outlined and half buried in snow, but it was there.

I set Beau down, unzipped the folding shovel from my pack, and dropped to my knees in front of the door. Elle plopped down beside me, wisps of her dark hair whipping around her face as she used her gloved hands to rake the snow away. Sophie and Alex did the same, Alex using the boiling pot for a scoop. Beau and Thea also scooped and dug until we had finally moved enough snow for me to be able to pull the slatted wood door open. It nearly fell off its hinge in the wind, and Elle grabbed hold of it as I peeked my head in.

I held up one hand to caution everyone, leaving the other on my gun as I stepped inside to be sure it was safe. The interior was dark, save for the fleeting dull light leaking in from the doorway and inconsistencies in the poorly constructed walls. It was a drafty, oversized shoebox, but it was empty, and the wooden chair and broken table would suffice as firewood for now.

I waved the others inside.

Heaves and sighs followed a bustling of footsteps and nylon arms and legs rubbing against each other as everyone crammed inside. “Come on—shut the door,” Elle said breathily. The air was so still and suddenly quiet, it echoed every breath.

Sheet metal siding blocked most of the wind, and I opened the rusted wood-burning stove to find it was full of ash.

“I need matches,” I said, forcing my fingers and legs to work in tandem as I broke the wooden legs off of the rickety old chair. “Thea—your coloring book.” I nodded to her pack.

Sophie helped her wiggle out of it, and within seconds the pages were crumpled beneath the broken chair legs, and a burgeoning fire lit the room.

Crouched in front of it, I blew more life to the flame, urging the fire to catch faster and the smoke to clear. I silently pleaded the rusted chimney pipe would hold out as long as the storm, and I took my gloves off and held my hands up to the flames. I allowed the heat to seep into my bones as the fire grew. It was warm against my windburned skin, and my nose and fingertips began to thaw.

Sophie and Alex pulled their hoods back and took a deep breath for the first time, like they were coming up for air.

“Can everyone feel their fingers and toes?” Elle asked, and when the four kids said no, I almost smiled. “Let me rephrase that,” she said, still catching her breath as she peeled off her coat. “Does anyone have frostbite?”

The kids pulled off their gloves as they shivered in place; white puffs of air filled the room.

“No,” Alex said, checking his hands and then the rest of them.

“Good, now put your gloves back on until this place warms up a little,” she said, brushing the snow off Thea’s hood and shoulders. Sophie did the same with Beau.

I blew more life to the fire as Elle glanced around the shack. “Thank God for this place,” she muttered. “You were right.”

Barely, I thought.

When the fire was roaring, I stood aside, waving them over to gather around it. “We’ll stay here until the blizzard lets up,” I told them. “Stay close to each other, though, and keep warm.” I nodded to their blankets rolled up beneath their packs. Soon they’d be dripping with melting snow. “The fire will take the chill out of the air, but”—I stomped on the plywood floor—“it’s not going to be a sauna or anything. Dry your blankets first, then we’ll dry any wet clothes.”

Shoulder to shoulder, the kids knelt around the stove with their hands so close to the cast iron I worried they might burn. Thea removed her gloves first, a smile tugging at her lips as she basked in the warmth.

“It’s going to be like this all winter, isn’t it?” Elle asked quietly as she stood beside me. She stared into the flame. It was as if she’d been telling herself once we got out of the city we’d be okay, and finally realized it wasn’t that easy. “This really is our lives now.”

I looked at her, seeing that silent fear in her green eyes I’d come to recognize.

“Yes,” I told her. “For now. But soon you’ll be in Hartley, and none of you will have to worry about this.” It was a reminder to myself of the solitude that awaited me, and the structure and community these kids would have if they were ever going to feel normal again. “But you’ll have to wait for spring.”

Elle blinked from her haze and looked at me, incredulous. “Spring?”

“Unless we want this to be our reality for the next month, we need to find somewhere to hunker down and wait out the winter.” I crouched down and fumbled with puffy, gloved fingers before pulling the map from my bag. “This is where we are,” I told her as I unfolded it, rising to my feet. “Somewhere here, off Glenn Highway—still nearly five hundred miles from Whitehorse.”

I looked into her eyes, waiting as the implications of continuing our journey to the border sank in.

Finally, Elle nodded. “Stay where, though?”

“I have an idea,” I told her. “It’s not going to be easy, but it will be better than this.”

Without hesitation, Elle nodded again and pursed her lips. “Whatever you think,” she whispered. “I just—” She glanced at the sat phone sticking out of my open pack. “I know you’ve been trying to meet up with your friend, Ross, and—”

“That has to wait,” I told her. It was a constant battle to remind myself that he and I had made a backup plan, so I couldn’t completely lose hope until spring. “He wouldn’t travel in this, and I was stupid to try it.”

“It’s not like we could’ve stayed in the city,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ears. It was wind ravaged and wild around her face. Even with chapped lips and rosy cheeks, Elle seemed to glow in the firelight. Maybe it was her forced optimism, or maybe it was the fact that she had four kids to worry about and didn’t have the option of looking back, only to keep moving forward, but I admired her for that.

For me, it felt impossible for me to move forward most of the time. Everywhere I looked—at Elle, at little Thea, at the Glock I always carried, and my hands that stacked every stone—I saw Hannah and Molly and memories that kept me tied to the past.

“We have a choice now,” I told her. “There’s no one chasing us. We can find a temporary home or we can do our best to chug forward.”

“We stay,” she said easily. “We plan and bide our time.”

I hadn’t expected to feel relief in her words, but I did.

As I rested against the wall, a haunting, lonely howl pierced through the wind.

“The wolves are out,” Beau whispered, barely above the wind. Collectively, we held our breath to listen. So far from civilization, madmen were the least of our concerns. Nature was queen of the wildlands, and we were unwelcome.

Ensuring my rifle was loaded, I rested it in the corner of the cabin, and with an exhausted sigh, I sat down beside it. Our problems would still be there after the fire went out and the snow let up. But with the wind buffered and the sting of the cold at bay, I allowed myself to revel in the comforting heat of the shack and the crackling fire. All of us hunkered down to wait and listen as the wolves cried in the distance.

Part II

March

24

Elle

March 29

Thomas came at me—eyes red-rimmed and face sweating—in the muted light of the room. The inexplicable hatred in his eyes twisted my insides, and he grabbed at my neck. His fingernails dug into my skin as I gasped and clawed at his hold.

He was too strong—I could feel my windpipe crushing in his grasp and the blood draining from my face.

This wasn’t happening—I would not die, not like this. Not at the hands of a stranger, after everything else . . .

My fear turned to rage, which fueled the burn inside me just beneath my skin.

A fiery tempest ignited and swirled through me as I willed my body to obey, my arms to lift and grab hold of Thomas’s neck.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I screamed. It was satisfying, and a power both fearsome and intoxicating surged through me.

I clutched his neck harder, feeling his heart beating in the palms of my hands.

I squeezed and squeezed to prove that I would survive—that I wasn’t weak.

As the struggle left his body, I opened my eyes, and I gasped. The heat drained away, a corroding terror flooding me in its wake.

Jackson’s hazel eyes stared lifelessly back at me, his face red and mouth agape. His body fell limply onto mine as I tried frantically to get free.

His skin was blue. His neck was singed with impressions from my fingertips, and burnt veins spread through his jaw and up his face like a toxic leak.

He was dead—Jackson was dead, and I had killed him.

My eyelids flew open. Sweat dampened my temples despite the cool air that filled the room. Inhaling a steadying breath, I sat up in bed and peered around the room. It was just as foreign as it was comforting—the paisley wallpaper and cluttered dresser and desk. A box of someone else’s things lay on the carpeted floor. It was my temporary home and I was safe in a warm bed, but in a house that held a history I would never know.

The fire burned low in the fireplace, and the candle on my bedside had long since burned out. I opened the side table drawer to grab another, but all I felt was the soft leather of my calfskin gloves and the cold handle of my gun.

Flinging the comforter back, I shoved my sock-covered feet into my slippers, and reached for the robe draped over my bed.

It had been over four months since the outbreak. I no longer kept track of the actual days we’d been in Copper River Valley, more like how many nights the six of us had made it without freezing and how many days it had been since we’d seen other people—98 and 84.

Jackson had been right. Slana—our off-the-grid safe haven in a borough northeast of Anchorage—had been mostly untouched. During our semi-short stay, we learned just how scarce everything was and what it meant to travel the distance needed to retrieve it.

Scavenging trips had to be strategically planned so that we could beat the weather and preserve fuel. Simple tasks, like brushing teeth, going to the bathroom, and bathing weren’t so simple without running water or electric heat. Everything was a process. Every outing or meal was preceded by a list of rules and processes never to be broken. Generators were an extravagance we only used when necessary or when the sound could be drowned out so not to attract attention. Sometimes candles and fires felt like the last two luxuries we would ever have, and even they were never guaranteed.

Opening the bedroom door, I peeked down the upstairs hall. Shadows from the living room fireplace danced in the stairwell, and a rush of cold kissed my face. The floor creaked as I made my way down the hallway, toward the stairs.

I stopped at the kids’ room and opened the door to peek inside. Sophie was asleep in one bed, Alex, Beau, and a sprawled out Thea in the other beside it. Crammed together in one room, even if it was a four-bedroom house, was better than being apart. Safety in numbers had become our second nature—to always walk in pairs and never go outside alone or without a weapon, especially after dark. Never after dark. The wolves liked to linger in the woods, especially at night.

Shutting the door, I continued to make my way down the staircase as quietly as possible. I wasn’t sure why Jackson slept in the living room instead of the comfort of one of the beds, but he never did. Even after Anchorage and the mall—after the shack and the journey to Slana—Jackson still felt separate from us. Maybe he didn’t want to get too attached because we’d be parting ways in Whitehorse, after the snow melted. Or it could’ve been that deep down a part of him didn’t trust me. And maybe he was right not to, even if the idea of him hating me plagued my thoughts each and every day.

I stopped at the final step and eyed Jackson. He stood in front of the fire, pulling a thermal shirt over his bare chest and painted arms. He was a curiosity to me, a mystery despite the months I’d known him.

“What do they mean?” I asked.

Jackson spun around, oblivious to my standing there, and his eyes met mine.

“The tattoos.” They were Haida-looking creatures with curved edges and wide eyes; puzzled together in ancient black and red symbols of a heritage I knew little about. “I knew an old fisherman in Seward who had them on his hands and up his neck.” I’d never learned his name. “He would sit on the pier every morning, drinking his tea from his canteen. He was almost always the first face I saw when I arrived back at port.” I smiled remembering his wide, toothless smile and sparkling jade eyes. “He told me they’re sacred markings and each image means something special to the person wearing them.”

“Ah.” Jackson peered down at his arm, like he could see the images through his long sleeves. “Moon is the protector and guardian of people on earth. It seemed fitting when I became a trooper.” He tucked his dark, longish hair behind his ears and picked his dirty clothes off the ground.

I gripped the railing. “And the others?”

“Wolf is strength and Sun is peace,” he said briskly over his shoulder. “They were my wife’s idea.”

“You never talk about her.” I’d wanted to ask him about his life so many times I’d lost count, but it never seemed like the right time.

“I know.” He draped his jeans and flannel over the back of the couch. “Did I wake you coming in? I tried to be quiet—”

“No,” I said. “You didn’t wake me.” His wife was still off limits, which I understood. I didn’t want to talk about my life before, especially with him. But a part of me desperately wanted to know something that would show me who he might’ve been before he became the person he was now, other than a quiet, brooding protector that lost himself in a bottle of bourbon on bad days and preferred seclusion the rest.

Jackson did chores and tasks around the property, mostly planning and prepping for our approaching departure, but his mind was always somewhere else. And, where did he go off to when he was on his own? I’d never followed his trail toward the mountains. Who was I to question him when there was plenty I didn’t say myself? On my worst days, I worried he might wander off and never come back, making me uncomfortably grateful when he returned.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, staring at me.

I stood dumbly on the staircase. “Yeah—I was just getting more candles.” I continued toward the hutch on the other side of the room. Sophie and Thea had been gathering them up for me, a kindness I appreciated more than they’d probably ever know.

I slid a few candlesticks into each of my robe pockets, enough to get me through a few more nights.

“Is it the dreams?” Jackson’s voice was tentative.

“Is what the dreams?”

When I looked at him, he nodded to the tapers sticking out of my pockets.

“Among other things,” I admitted. “It’s pretty silly, huh? A grown woman needing a nightlight.”

“No, not silly.” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he sat at the end of the sofa. It was a moderately sized living room that fit the six of us well enough—a couch, recliners, side and coffee tables—but it always felt smaller when it was just the two of us alone. “We all have our own ways of coping after everything that’s happened.”

“It used to just be things from my past,” I told him and shook my head, baffled by how different things had become. “If Dr. Rothman could see me now,” I muttered.

“Dr. Rothman?”

“My therapist. She used to tell me I let the past have too much control over me. It’s like I barely remember the faces that haunted me before. It’s more like the faces of—” I stopped myself from admitting the full truth. I was so close, and he was right there. I could’ve uttered a few more simple words, liberating me forever. But I didn’t. “I just . . . don’t like the darkness, I guess.”

Jackson’s eyes lingered on me like they sometimes did, but he didn’t press me for an explanation. I could always see the questions though, playing in his hazel eyes—the uncertainties behind his permanently furrowed brow, riddled with apprehension. It was one of his few expressions I could read.

Jackson wanted to ask me more, and sometimes I wished he would because he deserved the truth. But it was a well-rehearsed dance between us, the closest thing to intimacy we shared. He would nudge me with a question that I would only half answer, and I would nudge him back with another; neither of us dared probe deeper, terrified of the outcome. It was an unspoken understanding, one of many.

I closed the drawer of the hutch and turned for the staircase. Jackson sat quietly as he stared down at the sat phone on the floor at his feet.

“Will you still stay in Whitehorse if you don’t hear from him?”

He peered into the fire. “Yes.”

Though I assumed as much, I hated to think about us parting ways in a few weeks. No matter how much I tried to prepare myself for it, I would miss him. “This place in Whitehorse,” I started. “What makes you think it’s even still there? You said it’s been years since you went, and with all that’s happened—”

“It has to be,” he said stubbornly and scratched the side of his face. His beard was a few weeks unshaven.

“Can I ask why it’s so important to you?” I couldn’t help nudging the line of things we didn’t discuss on nights that my mind was restless.

Reluctance was Jackson’s other expression I knew all too well; the way his jaw clenched and he took a deep breath before offering a vague answer. “It’s where my wife and I went on our honeymoon. It’s really the only thing I have left of her at this point. A memory.”

And there it was—the truth—awkward only because we usually went out of our way to avoid speaking about her.

“I understand.” I’d assumed it was sentimental to him, otherwise why be so dead-set on going there instead of a safe zone that boasted community and protection, a place with other children, doctors, and people of skill and consequence. “I’m glad you’ll have a small piece of her back then.” Maybe it would give him the peace he’d been unable to find.

I continued to the stairs. “Night, Jackson.”

“Night,” he said, barely audible, followed by the sound of a screw top. I told myself his drinking would only worsen if he knew the truth, and then I hated myself even more.

25

Elle

March 30

My back and arms strained as I split the wood that had been drying under the tarp beside the house. It felt good to be active and always moving. It kept my mind busy and my energy spent to something I could control.

Swing. Thunk.

Swing. Thunk.

My goal was a half-heap before lunch. With longer days and increasingly better weather, we were able to get more done.

Swing. Thunk.

Swing. Thunk.

Day 99 was like all the rest. Sophie woke up before all of us, her nightmares preventing her from getting much sleep, even though she never wanted to talk about what they were. I’d snuck outside to watch the sunrise, before my run, wishing I still had my Nikon and equipment to snap a few shots. Then, I ran to take the edge off, grateful to have found a way to keep the heat coursing through my veins at bay.

I’d made a few failed attempts to discern whether anyone else felt the fire in their blood the way I did, but was met with inquisitive looks and the sickening feeling to leave it alone before someone started getting too curious about my ramblings.

Sophie remarked that she wished she were always warm, because she was sick of being freezing cold all the time.

Alex joked that he often got shocked when he touched me, and that it must’ve been my electric personality. And if he could laugh it off, that meant he was oblivious to what I could do, and I gave up prodding for inexplicable, fire-related abilities all together after that.

No one ever questioned my gloves, adopting the false reality I was just a quirky germaphobe, one of my many lingering issues from before the outbreak, and I didn’t correct them. And while I wasn’t necessarily at ease with what I could do, I was more comfortable controlling it. Plus, I had little choice.

There was so much we still didn’t know about the virus, including the physical changes and levels of insanity left behind in the aftermath; for all I knew I was just a little crazy, like the other, less sane survivors.

After my morning run, the kids and I ate oatmeal and thawed frozen fruit, which Alex typically threw together. Alex was used to simplistic, creative meals after a childhood of relying on his street smarts to get by. For Sophie, whose father was a chef, cooking was too closely tethered to her past, which is why I think she spent more time with Jackson working on cars and at target practice than she spent with Alex in the kitchen. I was a useless klutz when it came to the kitchen, so I stuck to busy work around the property. I did the chores I didn’t want the kids to do; and Jackson remained our handyman, resident prepper, and—for all intents and purposes—our teacher.

I straightened from the woodpile and wiped the back of my arm across my forehead, debating whether or not to remove my windbreaker in the thirty-two degree weather. I already looked strange enough, manically finding backbreaking work to do, so I decided running around in a t-shirt might reach too far out of everyone’s comfort zone.

Blowing a loose strand of hair from my face, I peered around the snow-covered road that stretched through Slana, barren on both sides save for a sprinkling of trees and a few commercial buildings.

The town was barely a blip on a map, but Jackson had known about the ranger station a mile down the road, and that it wasn’t a big enough community to garner any attention. I hadn’t seen anyone else since we’d arrived, though Jackson had been less lucky during his multi-day excursions on the snowmobile into the nearest towns and cities.

Despite the occasional excursion, we had a lot of what we needed within a two-mile radius. A general store we pilfered as needed, a mechanic shop Jackson used as a daily workshop, a clinic we’d raided during our first week here, and the solar company Jackson planned to pillage before we left. And aside from our residence, there were only a handful of other houses scattered along the road. We’d chosen one a ways down, hoping anyone who happened to stop in would scour the most convenient places first.

“We got dinner!”

I whirled around with an armful of firewood as Alex lifted his backpack from a dozen yards away. White puffs of air surrounded him and Sophie as they trekked through the snow in their puffy coats and neck gaiters. Alex had one of Jackson’s rifles slung over his shoulder, which was another one of the rules when they were around town.

“Dinner and lunch,” Sophie added as they crunched closer through the snow. She pulled her gaiter down and under her chin. “Despite having eaten two hours ago.”

Alex grinned, the evergreen flecks in his eyes bright in the sunlight. “What can I say, I’m hungry again.”

“Me too,” I added. “Starving, actually.”

Although they walked side by side, both of them smiling, Sophie’s grin never reached her eyes like Alex’s did. At first I’d thought it was grief that kept her a little distant, just like Jackson, but sometimes I wondered if her withdrawal was getting worse, along with the dreams.

“So,” I said, brushing the wood chips off of my hands onto my pants. “How was the market, crowded?”

Alex shrugged. “Not too bad, I had to fight a lady for the last bag of tater tots though.” Alex’s smirk grew big and white, and even Sophie allowed herself a genuine smile.

“Is that what’s on the menu?” My stomach rumbled imagining it. “Tater tots, with perhaps a sprinkle of salt?”

“That does sound delicious, but not tonight.” Alex nudged Sophie. “She convinced me to make everyone’s favorite.”

My stomach rumbled even more excited. “Yum, spaghetti?”

He nodded. “With garlic bread and veggies. She’s going to make her dad’s special sauce.”

I stacked an armful of wood. “Can we just skip lunch and have dinner?” I teased.

Everything was frozen, boxed, jarred, or bagged, so I got excited when they decided to go all out and make a meal as home-cooked as we could get.

“No,” Alex said. “I need to thaw the elk meat.” He lifted the bag again. “I better get to it.”

“Let me know if you need any help,” I said.

Alex chuckled as his footsteps crunched toward the house. “I think we’re good. I’d like there to still be enough food for everyone by the time I’m finished.”

“I stick my finger in the sauce one time and you’ll never let me live it down,” I grumbled and walked toward the firewood stack I’d started on the porch.

“Oh, wait.” I straightened. “I thought the kids were with you.” I looked at Sophie, her long blonde hair hanging around her shoulders. “Where are they?”

She shrugged. “With Jackson at the shop, I assume. We were putting fuel stabilizer in the carriers when Alex said he was going to the store. I needed to pick up a couple things, so they stayed with him.”

“You make more trips to the store than any of us,” Alex said. “What could you possibly need so much of?” He nodded to her backpack.

“Tampons,” she bit out, the way awkward teenagers do. “Would you like to see?” She lifted her pack.

His eyes widened and he hurried into the house.

Rolling her eyes, Sophie followed after him.

“I’ll tell Jackson to wrap things up in time for lunch.”

“Okay!” Alex called and Sophie closed the door to keep what little heat was in the house inside.

I circled back for another armful of wood. If Beau and Thea were with Jackson, it meant they would be covered in grease by the time they got back to the house. After stacking one more armful on the porch, confident I’d gotten a decent amount of energy out for the day, I trotted down the front steps and headed down the road to the mechanic shop.

I followed little footprints trailing behind bigger ones and smiled to myself. Even if Jackson wasn’t very paternal, the kids liked him. Thea especially, who liked to ask him weekly if he was going with us to Hartley Bay, as if she thought he was going to change his mind.

Mixed among their trail, I noticed another set of prints in the snow and I paused mid-step. Animal prints—wolf prints, specifically. Jackson had pointed some out to me twice before. At first, I thought they were old, but that the prints were in the neighborhood at all was unnerving. Feeling a niggling unease, I jogged toward the shop. Jackson would calm me down by reassuring me they were old, then he’d chide me for not listening when he was teaching the kids about game tracking. He’d say I was completely overreacting, and I’d feel foolish and all would be well with the world. I hoped.

A couple minutes later, I skip-walked through the abandoned junkyard of cars next to the shop and walked in through the roll-up doors, stopping to catch my breath.

“Hey,” I said, my footsteps echoing in the warehouse.

Jackson straightened from bending a piece of metal in a clamp, his nose red and icicles on his mustache. I tried not to smile as I glanced around for Beau and Thea. “Where are the kids?”

Jackson only stared back at me and if I wasn’t mistaken, his eyes were too glassy for this time of day. He peered around. “They went to play. They’re probably building a snowman or something.”

“Or something?” I turned on my heels, scanning the snow-covered parking lot. “Jackson, I saw wolf prints out there.” I peered out at the empty streets beyond the shop. Slana was a sprawling, wannabe town before, but it had become a vast desert of white, with hiding places and dark corners everywhere. There were no fences to keep things in or out, and no noise to scare predators away if they got curious or hungry enough.

“Thea!” I called, heart pounding in the onslaught of dread.

“They didn’t just wander off,” Jackson uttered behind me, but I called for the kids again, and when they didn’t answer, I flung open the side door to the other side of the building. “Beau—” I stopped in the doorway. Beau and Thea were sitting on a felled tree trunk, staring into the distance. “Oh, good.” I was about to sigh with relief, when I saw two wolves standing in the woods a couple yards from them.

“Wolves! Jackson—” I ran toward the wolves on instinct, my arms flailing, hands clapping as I shouted as loudly as I could to scare them away. Despite the potential for my plan to go terribly wrong, the wolves retreated deeper in to the trees.

“Thea, Beau—come here,” I ordered, my eyes never leaving the tree line.

“Beau,” I said, reaching for his hand as I pulled Thea against me and hurried back to the shop, their little legs struggling to keep up.

Jackson stood tall and formidable with his rifle, but it was too late. The wolves were already gone, no thanks to him.

When we were safely inside, I crouched down to look them in the eyes. “Never wander off on your own again,” I told them. “Do you understand? You know how dangerous it is out here—how many bad people there are, and those wolves are hungry. Do you hear me?” I could finally see the fear registering in their wide eyes.

“Do you hear me?” I said more calmly.

Thea’s lip trembled, and she nodded, then Beau dipped his chin, if a bit reluctantly. I pulled them both against me and squeezed them close.

“I don’t think the wolves would’ve hurt them,” Jackson said.

I jolted up and whipped around to face him. “Oh really? And that was a risk you were willing to take? Wild animals—pack animals that hunt—hanging around the kids. You don’t think that’s something we should be a little worried about?”

His lack of concern made my blood boil. “What the hell were you thinking, Jackson, letting them go off on their own like that? We’ve survived flesh hungry lunatics, a fucking virus that killed just about everyone else, so wolves are no big deal?”

When he said nothing, I took a step closer. “You’re drunk aren’t you?” Shaking my head, I took Thea and Beau’s hands in mine. I already knew the answer. I could smell it on him and see the blur in his eyes, even if he thought he was an expert at hiding it.

“I’m not one of the kids, Elle. You don’t get to scold me.”

I didn’t care if his voice was loud and angry. I glared back at him. “Then stop acting like a mopey teenager all the time.”

“Hey!” he shouted. “I didn’t ask for this.” He pointed to the kids and then to me. “I didn’t ask for any of it. I said we could travel together, I didn’t say I would play house with you.”

“Play house?” Unsolicited tears burned the backs of my eyes. “You’re such an asshole.”

“That’s right, I am. I told you from the beginning I was no role model, and you still came, so screw your self-righteous bullshit.”

I nodded, too livid to say anything else, and too wounded by how easily he could disregard us.

“Come on you guys,” I whispered to the kids. It was all I could manage.

Thea and Beau looked up at me, then back at Jackson, but they didn’t protest as we marched back to the house.

Before Anchorage, I’d never hoped for anything. I lived in an existence where life sucked and you did what you could to get through it with a scrap of sanity. Now, hope was like a drug I couldn’t shake, and I needed to come to terms with reality, not what I hoped would happen.

I couldn’t worry about the kids, myself, and Jackson on top of everything else. Once we got to the Yukon, we would go our own way without looking back, it would be for the best.

I repeated it over and over until I believed it was true.

26

Jackson

March 30

Months ago, I felt like a shit stain on God’s boot heel and I’d wanted to die. Hell, I thought I was dying. But here I am.

The edge was a precarious place. If you paid too much attention to everything in front of you, you risked the view, but ignore the dangers and you could fall. If your intention was to fall, like me, the catch was whether or not you could.

I had my days, days where I couldn’t imagine going any further, but there were better days when the void without Hannah and Ross, the memory of Molly, and even the knowledge that my dad was no longer breathing, could be tempered with a little help to dull the pain.

With Ross alive, it had felt like I had a purpose. Someone to wade through the fallout with; someone to commiserate and figure shit out with, after it all fell apart. Without him, I was alone, or at least I would be eventually, and it was a daily struggle to remember why being alive was considered lucky.

Especially when Thea looked at me. Her big brown eyes held a thousand questions and possibilities, and it was impossible not to wonder and imagine what could have been, even if I knew being stuck in the past was making everything worse. I didn’t want to forget though. Why would I?

The longer it took for Ross to call me, the easier it was to assume the worst, even if a voice in the back of my mind kept telling me he was still alive. Ross had always had my back and I always had his—he didn’t know how to fail at anything, which helped prevent me from a complete tailspin. But time was corrosive, and it was hard to find the smallest remnant of possibility amongst a minefield of shrapnel. It grew harder to breathe. Especially the longer I was with Elle and the kids, and all that I tried to keep close drifted further away.

Slogging down the abandoned road toward the house, with toes numb in my boots, I inhaled the harsh, cold air and peered into the utter darkness. There were no stars in the sky and gratefully there was no wind either. All I had were my thoughts and the sound of my shoes crunching in the snow.

Arctic nights had a scent: the sharpness of evergreen and a freshness so pure and indescribable, it numbed the inside of your nose and lungs with each inhale. I’d come to appreciate it while the others slept, a routine I’d fallen into each night. A walk—or trudge in some cases—and occasionally a half-bottle of whiskey.

There was a reason I hadn’t taken a drink in eight years, until the night I did. But I never wanted to think about that night again. And yet, that’s the thing about haunting memories, they were like shadows; they moved around, impeding your view. Other times, light warmed the dark places and basking in it felt like a betrayal. Elle, Alex, Sophie, Beau, and Thea were not part of my life before and the memories I cherished, they were part of the reality, and it felt wrong.

Tonight, my bottle remained heavy and untouched. I resented Elle for making me feel guilty when I’d promised her nothing.

I stopped in the driveway and peered up at the house. I sometimes wondered about the family who’d lived in it. They weren’t here when we’d arrived, but all of their things were—two kids and a father, from what I could gather. Had they built their home in a conventional neighborhood, it would look like any other house with windows and doors weathered by time. But in Slana, with only a handful of houses scattered across acres of woods, it stood out from all the rest. Five hearts beat inside—people I’d known for only a fraction of time compared to those who were gone forever; strangers in the grand scheme of things. And yet I was with them.

Shaking my head, I walked to the back porch. When my mind was clear, it wandered, asking questions I couldn’t answer. Were we alive because of our genetic makeup? Was it pure luck? Or was it some form of twisted fate that two siblings survived when none of the rest of us had family left? Were those who died the lucky ones, or were we? If Hannah had survived, would she be like me, or like the woman at the outpost who’d lost her mind and lived off human flesh? Nothing was certain, everything felt wrong, and I was tired of feeling lost.

One of the wolves howled off in the distance, and as I opened the backdoor another howled back in answer. I peered behind me, out at the mountains surrounding us. Packs hunted together; they protected one another. I couldn’t protect my wife and child, so how would Elle and the kids be any different? I didn’t want the responsibility, and as hell-bent as I was to drink the bottle in my hand to prove it, I hadn’t taken a single sip.

The floor creaked as I made my way through the house; through the kitchen that rumbled with voices when everyone was in there together, into the living room where everyone nestled in and kept busy in the evenings until bedtime—everyone but me.

We’d been preparing to leave since we arrived, knowing the day would come when the snow would stop falling and the ice would melt. I could leave tomorrow and Elle and the kids would have what they needed to stay here a while longer, and what they’d need for their journey to British Columbia. The Explorer was running again, and they would be okay without me.

I lifted my rifle strap over my head and leaned my gun against the mantle. I didn’t bother lighting a fire or taking off my boots and jacket as I sat down on the sofa in the darkness. If I was lucky, I might get a couple hours of sleep, but I doubted it.

Sometimes Hannah was in my dreams. Sometimes I saw Molly and got to hold her in my arms again, chubby cheeks rosy with life. Other times I was burying them in the cold, hard ground. Every dream ended with an aching loss, but I would awaken to a house teeming with life. Like grief, sometimes it overwhelmed the senses.

I closed my eyes, imagining a life where I slept in silence and woke up to it, too. If I left, Beau would wonder where I was when he came downstairs to help me with my morning call to Ross, which would inevitably go unanswered. Sophie might make an entire pot of coffee, not realizing I wasn’t here to drink most of it.

What had I been thinking, letting the kids play with wolves? I had been so certain they were fine, and it was beyond careless. Elle wasn’t just furious with me, she was disappointed. But along with fury and disappointment, her green eyes had glistened with fear, and I hated that it was because of me.

I scrubbed my hands over my face, wanting to laugh at the irony. Every reason I needed to go my own way was exactly why I wanted to stay, and I had hours yet to think about it.

27

Elle

March 31

I relied on the sharp sting of morning air in my lungs and the chill it left in its wake to keep me going. It wasn’t just a salve that soothed the fire, but a welcomed burn in my muscles that made them ache with exhaustion; I felt like at least one thing might still be in my control.

“Life’s harsh, Eleanor,” Jenny used to tell me. “Hoping and wishing are pointless. Suck it up and do something instead.” That was the last thing she said to me before she ran away ten years ago.

In my youth, I thought her advice was simple cruelty, and yet those same heartless words continued to pop into my head, and I wished she were here to say them again. To help me feel stronger in each moment of weakness.

I pushed harder through the snow, running until my thighs and chest screamed for me to stop and I felt the fire subside. But I wasn’t running only for temporary relief; I ran for clarity. I ran to expel the gnawing uncertainty of what the next twenty-four hours would bring.

I hadn’t seen Jackson when I woke, but that wasn’t entirely unusual. I wouldn’t be surprised if he left in the middle of the night, though, either. He wasn’t a man of many words, and it would’ve been easier for him to leave that way.

My eyes watered from the cold and the house came blurrily into view. Out here in the remote villages there was nothing. There was no help if we needed it, but no lunatics either. At least none that had found us yet. Slana’s seclusion and proximity to our final destination was why Jackson chose to make it a temporary home.

House, I corrected. It wasn’t a home, and we weren’t a family, at least not one that included Jackson. Imagining my life without the kids seemed impossible, after only four months. For Jackson, I knew it was different. As much as I wished things were the way I wanted them to be—neatly wrapped and packaged with a post-apocalyptic bow—they weren’t, and Jackson didn’t owe us anything; he’d promised us nothing and yet he’d done so much.

It wasn’t Jackson I was disappointed in, despite what I told myself. I just wanted a partner in all of this. An equal and friend to help me manage this new life with four kids so I wasn’t in it alone.

Suck it up. Jenny’s voice was still clear as day.

I slowed as I made it to the front porch, stopping just shy of it. My chest was so tight from exertion and cold, I had to drag in every breath just to fill my lungs. Hands on my hips, I paced the driveway and took stock of what felt like a single spark inside me. It was nice to feel more in control. I considered experimenting with it, but what if I couldn’t stop? What if exploring it unraveled what little control I had over it—the control I worked so hard to manage? I imagined the floodgates opening, the potential of what would follow scared me most of all.

I turned on my heel and nearly walked into Jackson. “Geez—”

“Sorry,” he grumbled and fiddled with a case of batteries in his hand. I hadn’t heard the crunch of his footsteps in the snow with my heartbeat racing in my ears. “I wanted to catch you before you went inside.”

I wiped my brow with the back of my hand.

“About yesterday,” he said, looking up at me. His eyes were warm pools of uncertainty and sincerity.

“No, Jackson. You were right, you didn’t ask for any of this—”

“Neither did you.”

His words surprised me. “You’re right,” I said quietly. “But it’s different for me. I want to help them, and I—I know it’s not your problem.”

“Elle, will you stop pretending you don’t think I’m an asshole for a minute so I can say something?”

“I don’t think you’re an asshole,” I said, pulling in another breath. I brushed the loose tendrils of hair from my face. “You’ve already done so much . . .” I shook my head, glancing everywhere but at him.

“Elle.” His voice was more commanding than I expected and forced me to look at him. “I didn’t mean what I said yesterday. Whatever shit I’m dealing with doesn’t give me a free pass to be a dickhead. I don’t mind watching the kids.”

I nodded, uncertain if this was an apology or something more.

He dropped his hands at his sides. “I was going to leave last night,” he admitted.

“Oh?” Blinking, I stared at him. That he’d actually considered leaving didn’t surprise me but it did make me sad. “Why didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “Because I’ll have the rest of my life to be miserable and alone. I can hold out a couple more weeks until you guys head for Hartley.” The chestnut and green flecks in his eyes were so crisp in the sunlight they reminded me of the rich hues of the forest reflected on a still lake in summertime. “I wanted you to know I’m sorry, and I won’t be drunk like that again.” His brow crinkled like usual, and he looked down at his hands. They were rough and battered and stained. No one could ever fault him for not pulling his weight and giving it his all, even if emotionally he was a mess. “Believe it or not, I wasn’t always like this.”

“I believe it,” I said easily. “There are a lot of things I didn’t use to be either.” A liar was one.

His eyes met mine, and a silent understanding passed between us.

I was grateful he’d stayed, and relieved to know he wasn’t so different from the guy I thought I saw in him, even if that would only make things harder in the end. I had a partner again, for now.

“I left you coffee,” he said, and the tension between us dissipated in the brisk morning air. “It’s getting cold.”

“Buttering me up, huh?” I smirked.

Jackson’s mouth quirked in an almost-smile, which I didn’t get to see often enough.

He nodded to the mechanic shop. “I’ll be loading things on the trailer, if you need anything.”

I nodded and shoved my hands in my back pockets as I watched him walk down the road. He was wearing clean pants and a jacket I hadn’t seen before, one that wasn’t covered in grease. Before hope could weasel its way into my thoughts, I headed into the house. I just needed to let things be as they were without overthinking it. And I was resolved to do so.

Walking through the door, I stopped in the entry and smiled again. The whiskey bottle beside the couch was full, and my heart swelled more than it should have. Maybe things would be different. And just maybe, he would decide to stay.

April

28

Elle

April 8

Our routines had become less rigorous as spring set in. We no longer raced against days with limited sun, and there was an unexpected excitement in the air. In a matter of days, we’d head to Hartley, where there were other survivors like us. And, unlike myself who always hated birthdays, Alex was a different story.

He’d been keeping track of every day in the beginning, waiting for his eighteenth birthday so he could be his own man, exiting a system he never asked to be in to begin with. But the longer the power remained off and law and order went ungoverned, his excitement to turn eighteen waned, openly at least. Alex no longer had to worry about the foster care system or what freedom would look like, he already had it, in a manner of speaking, anyway.

I’d been tracking his birthday ever since. Just because I wasn’t a fan of mine, didn’t mean we couldn’t celebrate his.

“What are y-am-es?” Thea stared at a can further down the aisle.

I dropped the last three cans of pink salmon into my bag to add to our trip inventory. I wanted to make sure we had enough food to last us a few months if possible, since life in Hartley was a giant question mark.

“It’s yams, stupid,” Beau corrected.

“Hey.” I nudged him. “Give the girl a break, would you? She’s learning how to read.” From time to time, Beau forgot he was three years older than her.

“Yams are like potatoes,” I explained. “But they’re sweet.”

“Like candy?” Thea chirped.

Beau rolled his eyes, but I didn’t take it personally. “I’ll get the crackers,” he grumbled and went down another aisle to mope. Nine was an age of impatience and confusion, I realized, or maybe it was just Beau adjusting to all he’d been through.

“Yummy.” Thea eyed the purple label. “Can we have these for dinner? They would be good with our casserole,” she explained.

“Would they now?” I chuckled. “Okay, put two cans in your bag.”

She dropped the cans in with an oomph, weighing her bag down quickly so that it just brushed the floor.

“Beau,” I called, peering over the shelf into the other aisle. His blonde head hovered by the cookies. “Grab Oreos for Alex, would you? The doubled-stuffed kind. We’ll give them to him with his present.” I couldn’t let Alex’s eighteenth birthday come and go without celebrating it. We still had a couple days, but I’d been preparing for it for nearly a month. It was the perfect excuse for everyone to focus on something other than packing and what was to come. Plus, it was time to have a little fun.

“Okay,” he grumbled. Beau didn’t do well when he wasn’t busy with purpose, like the rest of us, and with Alex, Sophie, and Jackson working on the snowmobiles to take to Whitehorse, he was stuck with me and Thea.

The three of us continued our perusal of the market, each with a list of items to fill our bags with. It was a mundane task, but a necessary one, and it passed quickly. The market was neither large nor fully stocked, not like a grocery store would be, but it had fed us well over the past few months and I’d stocked up plenty of the necessities, should something unexpected happen.

“Do you think he’ll like his beanie?” Thea asked, dropping a package of gum into her bag. She looked up, found me watching her, and grinned.

“You can have gum,” I told her. “Just don’t get it in your hair or we’ll have to cut it off.”

Her eyes widened, big, round, and brown like saucers.

“Would you like it if Alex made you a gift?” I tugged gently on one of her braids.

She nodded.

“Then I think he’ll love the gift you made him, too.” We’d tried our hand at crocheting, and while it was a work-in-progress, it would serve its purpose and keep Alex’s head warm. “Go grab a package of toilet paper to take back with us, okay? Then we’re heading out.”

Thea skipped down the aisle happily and disappeared around the corner. One saving grace in so much change was the cost of living. It was low and there were never any checkout lines. I would have needed a second job just to buy enough TP and paper towels for a family of six before the outbreak. And more time in the day to shop for it.

I made my way down the shampoo aisle and plopped a few bottles into my bag. Plumbing, on the other hand, had proven less convenient. The lack of electricity and frozen water pipes had become a major issue, making hot showers a thing of the past. No one wanted to bathe in cold water when it was already freezing outside, except maybe me sometimes. A lukewarm birdbath was all we could manage on most days.

“Come on, you two. Let’s head back before the sun sets.” It grew exponentially colder as the sun dropped behind the horizon, and the wolves had been coming out earlier—howling throughout the night. Whether it was because of spring or the scent of children, their nightly howling contest became more incessant, making me uneasy.

Beau made his way past me and out the door, his canvas bag full and heavy over his shoulder. “Set your bags on the sled. We’ll pull them back to the house.”

While the Explorer would’ve come in handy for our two-mile trip, I took every opportunity I could to keep moving and save fuel. The kids seemed to have an endless well of energy like I did, so I used them as an excuse to go for as many walks as possible.

I dropped chocolates and marshmallows into my bag at the last minute, assuming s’mores would do in place of a birthday cake since we didn’t use the oven, then I shut the door to keep the weather and animals out in our absence.

The distant sound of snowmobiles caught my ear, and, shielding my eyes with the cup of my hand, I peered down the highway. Had both snowmobiles not been completely white, I would’ve been apprehensive, but I recognized Jackson’s height and Alex’s mohawk helmet immediately.

“Looks like they’re working!” Beau practically jumped with excitement as they drove closer. Snowmobiles were somewhat of a surplus supply in these parts, a necessity for winter travel, yet finding ones that actually worked proved more difficult.

“Maybe they’ll take you for a ride now that they’re working again.”

“That’s okay, I need to pull this for you girls.”

“Oh, really?” I asked, more than happy to have him do all the work if that’s what he wanted. “You don’t think Thea and I can handle it?”

Beau shrugged. “Jackson wanted me to be helpful,” he drawled.

Alex and Jackson slowed the snowmobiles as they pulled into the parking lot, winding them down a few yards in front of us.

“We got you something,” Thea sang, looking at Alex conspiratorially.

Alex removed his helmet. “You did? What for?”

“Your birthday, silly.” She giggled.

“Will I like it?”

“Yes!” she chirped with an enthusiastic nod.

Alex winked at her then looked at me. “We’re going to take the machines for a spin and get some target practice in before the sun sets.”

“Really?” Beau yipped. “Aw, can I come? Please?” Beau looked at me, but I deferred to Jackson. He was the one who’d issued the help-the-girls order.

Thea skipped up to Jackson and opened her bag to show him Alex’s surprise Oreos. “Yum. That’s the good stuff,” he said.

She put her finger to her lips.

“If Jackson says it’s okay to go, Beau, then it’s fine with me.”

He ran over to Jackson, who was hulking compared to Alex’s thin frame on the snowmobile beside him. “Can I come with you?” Beau asked. “Please?”

Jackson looked at me askance, and I gave him a consenting nod. “He was very helpful today,” I assured him.

“All right bud. Put this on first . . .”

“Do you guys want to come?” Alex asked, glancing at me and Thea. “We can come back for the food. That way you can get some shooting practice in.”

“Are you kidding, Elle’s a better shot than all of us.” Jackson winked at me.

“Ha, that’s a lie. But I’m okay for now. What about Sophie? I thought she was with you guys.”

Alex couldn’t hide the downcast expression that washed over him, but he tried to shrug it off. “She said she had stuff to do.”

“When people get secretive around birthdays, it’s best not to ask too many questions,” I told him. I wasn’t sure if that was Sophie’s excuse, but I thought it might make him feel a little better.

He smiled, but it wasn’t real, not the heart-stopping smile I knew he had in him.

“Okay, well you boys have fun. Hit all the targets and be safe.”

“But I want to go too,” Thea whined.

“Yeah, you need to work on your aim,” Beau said, climbing on the back of the snowmobile.

“Nuh-uh!” Thea taunted.

“Yeah-huh—” Beau froze when a snowball hit him in the helmet.

“See,” Thea taunted. “I’m a better aim than you.”

Beau swung his leg over and climbed off the snowmobile, breaking into a run after his sister. She shrieked and threw a wad of snow at him, hitting him in the shoulder, and he stumbled back.

“Oh, damn!” Alex hooted as they went at it, the two of them throwing half formed balls of snow at each other. Within seconds, Alex joined in, the three of them having an all-out snowball war.

Thea ran toward me and I began to back away. She ran behind my legs, her head butting into my backside as she tried to shield herself. “Hey—don’t bring me into this!” I shrieked, and moved out of the way too late. Snow hit me in the leg and I spewed empty threats as the kids ran the opposite direction.

Jackson climbed off his snowmobile and came to stand beside me, both of us amused as we watched the kids play like normal kids used to. “So much for target practice,” he mused.

“What do you mean? They’re practicing as we speak.”

Jackson glanced at me, then out at the kids. “Whatever you say.”

I gave him a nudge. “Trust me, this is more important right now,” I told him. I swooped down and grabbed a handful of snow.

“Don’t throw that at me,” he warned. “I’m serious.”

“Yeah?” I took a few steps away, putting plenty of distance between us.

“I’m a really good aim,” he answered. “Seriously. You’ll regret it.”

Even if I did regret it, it would be worth it to see Jackson actually smile. Balling the wad of snow in my hand, I chuckled as he shook his head in warning.

“Don’t do it, Elle.”

Eagerly, I tossed it at him, hitting him directly in the face.

My hand flew to my mouth as the snow fell in chunks from his beard. “I swear, I was aiming for your chest.”

The longer his head continued to shake the more nervous I became.

“Jackson—I didn’t mean to hit you in the face.”

“That’s what they all say,” he said and crouched down to grab a handful of snow. “I’m glad your shooting aim isn’t as bad as your throwing arm,” he jested.

And with a rumble of laughter in his chest, Jackson threw a snowball right at my stomach and the game was officially on.

29

Jackson

April 9

“This is Huck Fulton from Hartley Bay for the daily broadcast.” Fulton’s voice was lower than usual and seemingly deflated, but still grating over the radio against my pounding headache.

“It’s been a few days since our last broadcast, due to radio transmission issues. Having since found a cache of military radios, we’re back to broadcasting. That being said, are there any electrical engineers out there interested in joining us?” He laughed, though it sounded more brittle than amused. “Today, I’m happy to report that we haven’t seen outsiders in nearly two weeks, which is fortunate . . . and troublesome. We’re still in need of another doctor after the militants robbed our scavenging party just outside our walls three months ago. We lost Doc Chin in the raid. Without giving too much away, we learned our lesson and we’ve become more strategic; it’s been quiet, though, ever since. As always, I urge survivors to come this way, especially if you have any medical skills. We’re nearly a hundred strong and could use your help. We have weapons and plenty of food, and in the months since the outbreak, we’ve been able to find a semblance of community and a new normalcy within our walls.”

I glanced up from my maps of Canada fanned out across the table to Sophie. She sat on the couch, listening intently to the broadcast. I wasn’t sure why, but she seemed less eager to go to Hartley the closer the time came to leaving.

Alex sat with Beau on the floor, staring at the radio as well.

“As long as you’re willing to pitch in, we’ll find a place for you,” Huck Fulton continued, then he rattled off their coordinates as he always did.

“Who wants snacks?” Sophie asked, uncurling from the couch.

Thea jumped up from her book organizing on the rug in front of the heater. “I want the circus cookies.”

“Come and get them then.” The two of them disappeared down the hall.

Alex and Beau were oblivious to snacks as they cleaned the rifle I’d lent Alex for target practice the day before. His thoroughness and attention to detail made me proud, and while Elle was capable of protecting them, it never hurt to have someone to share the burden with, especially once I was gone.

I took a gulp of water from my thermos. Being cooped up indoors during a whiteout was different when you were stone-cold sober; everything was borderline distracting, and the heater was turned up so high, I thought I might melt, but I wouldn’t say anything. It was an extravagance for the kids, one they rarely enjoyed.

I angled the lamplight on the card table and zeroed in on my maps as the clan stirred around me. Focus was something I was fairly good at, I was just out of practice.

“Don’t tell Elle I gave you cookies, Thea,” Sophie said as they walked back into the living room.

“I heard my name,” Elle shouted from her room upstairs, and Thea’s eyes widened.

Shoving another cookie into her mouth to get rid of the evidence, Thea wiped her hands on her pants, checking for crumbs before she grabbed one of our Alaska survival books and flipped through the pages.

“Here,” Sophie said, handing me some jerky. The circles under her eyes were darker than usual, her demeanor more withdrawn.

I reached for the jerky. “Thanks—”

She bypassed me and set the rest on the table, her eyes shifting away from mine just as quickly. “Sure.”

I must’ve looked more haggard and harried than I thought if I was scaring the kids now.

“What are those?” she asked, pointing to the dots on the map.

“More squatter shacks, in case we need them.”

She looked at me, incredulous. “I thought we were waiting for spring so we don’t have to worry about hiding out? It’s only a day’s drive.”

“A lot can happen in a day,” I explained. “You know that.”

I didn’t have a good feeling about leaving Slana; it was a combination of a lot of things. I didn’t know what I would find in Whitehorse, or if I’d meet up with Ross again. And Hartley Bay claimed to be safe, but they’d had enough hiccups outside their walls to make me wonder what their definition of safety was and how, exactly, they could guarantee something like that.

“Which route are we taking?” Sophie pointed to two different paths.

“I haven’t decided.”

She sat down in the chair next to me. She’d been eager to learn more about cars and how things worked, so her interest didn’t surprise me, even if I was still trying to figure her out. Beau and Thea were easy—kids who bickered, asked a lot of questions, and had a hard time sitting still. Alex was equally straightforward with his street smarts and innate will to survive. Elle was a mama bear when it came to the kids, even if she was still trying to figure out her place with them; they’d pretty much become her life now. But Sophie was struggling, and while I was struggling too and could understand why she would be, I wasn’t exactly sure what she was struggling with. The loss of her family? All the horrors she’d seen? Did she not feel like she was part of the team? Every time Elle or Alex tried to talk to her, she brushed them off. Whatever it was, I worried about the toll it was taking on her.

“Want me to help you decide then?” She leaned onto the table, studying the map closely.

“Sure.” I sat back, arms crossed over my chest. “A straightforward route on the highway would be fastest, but it would also expose us and everything we’re hauling with us—the trailer and supplies, food, a snowmobile, that sort of thing.”

Her gaze shifted from the map to me. “You’re worried about other survivors stealing from us?”

I nodded. “Or worse. We’re not the only survivors with a plan like this, either, at least it’s not likely. Especially with the announcements continuously circulating about Hartley. People will be heading there, especially with the weather changing.”

“And the other route, it follows the river?”

“I figure it’ll keep us off the roads. We’d need to get more snowmobiles, though. We’d be close to a water source—”

“But have to brave the elements,” she finished for me.

“Yes, hence the squatter shacks. The weather is getting better, but it’s still Alaska, so nothing’s certain.”

“And the wolves have been out in force,” she added.

“And that.” I scrubbed my beard and sighed. “Like I said, I haven’t decided.”

Sophie stared at the map, her gaze tracing the curves of the river. “It seems so easy on paper.”

“It sure does,” I mused, eyeing the journal her hand rested upon. “You look like you’ve been doing some planning of your own.”

Sophie blushed and picked up her journal. “My favorite subject in school was biology—well, science in general. When you were telling us about beard lichen and where to find it, I was thinking I should write that kind of stuff down—for when you’re not around anymore, I mean.”

She’d been listening more than I thought she was, and it made me feel a little bit better about separating in Whitehorse.

She opened her journal and showed me a sketch of a spruce branch draped with lichen. “I wrote down all the things you said we can use it for.”

Versatile: Dye, deodorant, toothpaste, salves. Her notes were written in big round letters across the bottom of the page.

“Does it look right?” The sketch was long and stringy, just like an old man’s beard. “I know all lichen looks similar, but I figure I should be as specific as I can, in case Elle or someone else needs to reference it, they’ll know what they’re looking at.”

“I think it’s great.” I was actually awed by how much work she was putting into her journal. “And all this time, I thought you’d been writing about boys. You have your own survival guide in here.”

Sophie closed her journal. “How do you know all this stuff anyway? I mean, is it all from your job or . . .”

“My mom,” I told her. “A lot of it is at least. She taught me about nature and the ways of her people before she died. They used to live off the land, so it was all second-nature to her.”

“And you remember it all?”

“No. But it helps that I’ve had to use some of the knowledge she gave me over the years through my work. There are things I’ve forgotten, but there’s a lot that’s stuck with me, too.”

The stairs creaked as Elle came down, something draped over her shoulder. “Finished,” she sang victoriously.

“With what?” Thea sprang up from the floor.

Elle grinned, pleased with herself, and held out a net of black string. “It’s for fishing, catching, trapping, strapping, lugging . . .” She appraised one of the knots more closely and shrugged. “Not too shabby for my first time.”

“I was wondering what you were doing up there.” I pushed my chair out to stand. “May I?”

With a nod, Elle handed me her pride and joy. The net was taut and lightweight, perfect to put in one of our packs in case of an emergency. “This is great.” I handed it back to her.

“I want to make one!” Thea chirped, jumping in place as she craned her neck back, peering up at us. “Please?”

“Sure you can.” The corner of Elle’s mouth lifted, along with an amused eyebrow. “You can use my pile of practice knots to see what not to do.” She tickled Thea’s neck, making her giggle.

Elle winked and handed her the net.

I liked it when Elle winked. It reminded me that not everything was always so bad, which I forgot sometimes. It was that forced optimism she had that I’d grown to appreciate.

“I want to see,” Beau said, plodding over. He gave the net a once over and nodded in approval. “It looks pretty good,” he said. “You definitely got better at it.”

Elle pushed his shoulder playful. “Thanks, bud. It was a lot of effort. You left me high and dry up there.”

“I needed to help Alex clean the rifle.”

She brushed Beau’s blonde hair from his face. “It’s sort of a one person job anyway.” Her stomach rumbled, and Thea giggled again. “I guess I’m starving,” she said. “Anyone else want lunch?” Elle glanced around the room.

“Yep!” Thea shouted and zoomed past me, practically pushing me out of the way. I backed up, knocking into Sophie.

“Shit. Sorry—” I reached for her arm as she lost her balance, but when I touched her, she shrank away. Immediately, I let go. Sophie took a faltering step back and her wide eyes shimmered.

“Did I hurt you?” I asked, worried I’d grabbed her too tightly.

Her cheeks reddened and her gaze darted toward the stairs.

“Soph?”

She took another step back. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She looked fearful and brokenhearted at once, and a concerning ache filled my heart. “Just, please, don’t touch me.”

I nodded, uncertain what else to do, and she hurried up the stairs, to her room. When the door clicked shut, I fell back into my seat, my heart thudding and my hands clenching. I’d seen that cowering look from other woman a few times before.

For the first time, I was grateful so many people were dead; the chances were good if someone had hurt her, that bastard was one of them.

30

Jackson

April 10

Standing at the workbench in the warehouse, I stared down at my chicken scratch.

Recalculate fuel supply.

Sat phone battery replacement.

Check solar warehouse for generator parts.

Replacement snowmobile clutch.

AA, D Battery stock for scanner and CB.

I skimmed the list, trying to remember what else I’d wanted to get done before we got back on the road. The time was nearing, quickly, and I didn’t feel as ready as I’d expected to.

Rifle for Alex.

I picked up the hardwood bolt-action rifle from the worktable, appreciating its weight in my hand. It was lighter than a shotgun, perfect for hunting, and with the strap it would be easy enough to carry with him wherever he went.

The new world was a savage place and Alex was ready for his own gun. He’d proven that much in the last few months. Sophie had wanted to learn initially, was even pretty good at it, but she’d stopped joining us as the months went on. With the ice melting, predators were on the move, hungry and hunting, but it was the human variable I was most worried about. With Alex’s hard work, a gun would become an extension of him easily enough, and would help ward off anyone who might consider taking advantage of them in the months to come.

I set the rifle down and tugged my fleece cap off, rubbing my fingers through my hat hair. Even without a day job, ticking clocks, and everything scheduled out on a calendar, time was flying by. It was hard to imagine what I’d be doing another four months from now, and with whom.

I peered out the window as the sun sank behind the white-capped mountains to the east. Taking a deep breath, I inhaled the sharp scent of gun cleaner and lubricant. It was familiar and tethered me to my past life, which was slipping further away from me each day.

With one last thing to do before I called it a day, I grabbed the handheld radio off the worktable, already programmed on Channel 07, and turned it on. When there was no sign of Ross, I scanned the other channels, waiting for the static to fade and his familiar voice to come over the airwaves. There was only static. He wasn’t likely close enough, but I had to try, daily. I tried to call him on the sat phone, but that went unanswered as well.

“Fucking Ross.” I shook my head. Where the hell was he? He was a state trooper in one of the darkest, coldest, most dangerous cities in the United States, a damn Eagle Scout and infantryman, for God’s sake, and the only family I had left. I refused to believe he was dead. Yet the relief I’d felt seeing him alive had become a distant memory, and I struggled to hold on to it.

I turned off the generator and charging cradle, double-checked that the ammunition and weapons from our afternoon target practice were locked away, and made my way for the door. I could feel the onslaught of nighttime temperature as the sunlight dimmed and caused me to uncurl my woolen collar up to my ears. Slinging my rifle over my shoulder, I headed for the house.

It was a short walk down the road, but provided some calm before the storm. The second I stepped inside, the house would be full of noise. That was still hard sometimes.

I ran my hands over my face, feeling the effects of ten days without a drink. The past four months hadn’t been a complete drunken blur, but I’d definitely had my moments. And it was hard not to crave the numbness that dulled my mind when it was too restless for its own good.

The door opened as I walked up the porch steps, and Sophie stepped out. “Oh, hey,” she said.

“Hey.”

She barely looked at me as she dumped a bucket of dirty water into the snow.

I held the screen door open for her. “Hey, Soph, I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable yesterday or—”

“No, it’s totally fine.” She rolled her eyes, forcing a smile. “I was just being weird. I haven’t been sleeping and—it’s okay. Seriously.”

Before I could ask her anything else she turned back into the house. “Dinner’s just about ready. You better get cleaned up.” Sophie picked up a couple of empty glasses from the coffee table and placed them in the bucket, her long blonde hair swinging against her back as she straightened. “You’re in for a treat,” she said, turning for the kitchen. “Elle and I made something special tonight, for Alex.”

“Should I be afraid?” I joked. Elle being in the kitchen had resulted in a few questionable meals.

“Don’t worry, I supervised,” Sophie said, flashing me a real smile this time.

Maybe I had been completely off the mark yesterday, and it was a teenager thing, or hormonal. My gut told me that wasn’t true though, and shaking my head, I stepped inside. The scent of garlic and something sweet hit my nose, and the sound of children laughing in the kitchen and pots and pans clanking together filled the house.

I divested my coat and cap and hung them on the coat rack. Then removed my rifle and leaned it against the wall by the door. Thea and Beau had seen what guns could do first-hand, I didn’t have to worry about them getting curious. I didn’t have many rules, but not touching the guns was one of them.

One cue, the kids chirped and bickered in the dining room as I made my way in.

“Okay,” Elle said. “It’s time to play the giraffe game while we finish getting everything ready for dinner. Get in your seats.”

“What’s the giraffe game?” Beau asked.

“Yeah,” Thea echoed. “What’s the giraffe game?”

“Well, think about it for a minute.” Elle winked at me as I walked in. “What sounds do giraffes make?”

The room fell silent as the kids sat thoughtfully in their chairs.

Elle hustled around the kitchen. “Pot holders . . .” she said, peering around. “Ah-ha.” She blew a loose strand of hair from her face and lifted the casserole from the counter. Her verdant eyes flashed to mine as she headed to the table. “How is it you’re always just in time for the food?”

“My stomach knows,” I told her.

“Sophie,” Beau said. “What sound does a giraffe make?” His brow furrowed deep with thought.

“You know, I don’t know,” she said. “But think a little longer, you’ll figure it out.”

I sidled up to Elle at the counter. “What sound do they make?” I whispered.

She shrugged. “I have no idea, but I figured it would keep them occupied for a few minutes.” She smiled, her full lips exposing white teeth. I liked Elle’s smile.

“Aren’t you clever,” I muttered and washed my hands in the wash bucket. The water was beyond cold, nearly freezing, so I lathered them up, dipped, and dried them as quickly as I could.

Elle took a collection of water glasses to the table. “I can’t open this,” Thea said, trying to hand her something.

“Ask Jackson, Thea. My hands are full.”

Thea climbed out of her chair and walked over with her hand outstretched and an inquisitive look scrunching her face. She offered me a mangled Band-Aid wrapper with a pink cartoon panther on it. “I can’t open this,” she said. Her big, brown eyes were expectant, and my heart squeezed. “Can you help me, please?”

I cleared my throat and took the wrapper, tiny in my hands, and peeled it open. Then, Thea held up her middle finger. “I have an owie.”

It was the smallest prick of red—I could barely see it. “What happened?”

“I was getting sticks for the fire with Beau and got a splinner.”

“A splinter? Well, did you already get it out?”

She shrugged.

“Maybe you should get it out before you put a bandage on it.” I glanced at Elle, knowing she was better at these things than I was.

“There are tweezers in the bathroom,” she said, her eyes glinting with amusement. “In the medicine cabinet.”

“Will you get it out for me?”

I looked down at Thea’s freckled cheeks, rosy with warmth. Her big brown eyes stared innocently up at me. She was a cute kid, I’d give her that. “Let’s do it quick. It’s time for dinner.”

“Okay.” She took my hand in hers, the way Thea randomly did sometimes, and I nearly stumbled. It was small and precious, and she squeezed my fingers as she peered up at me.

I nodded to the bathroom. “We need the flashlight,” I told her. “So I can see better.”

Thea pulled a small one the size of a key chain from her belt. “We can use mine,” she said, taking her hand from mine so she could click it on.

“You have a tool belt?” I hadn’t noticed it underneath her oversized sweatshirt, or maybe it was because until recently, I hadn’t wanted to notice things.

Thea tilted her head, absently studying her finger.

That was what life had become for a six-year-old kid—utility belts with survival tools—so she could go about her normal day.

“It’s the perfect size for you,” I mused. “Where did you find it?”

“Elle got it for me at the tool store.”

I grabbed the tweezers from the medicine cabinet and sat down on the toilet lid, closer to Thea’s height. “Does your brother have a tool belt too?”

“Yep. We have the same one, but he hides dog treats in his. I don’t do that.”

“Really?” I lifted her small finger closer and looked for the tiny splinter in the middle of a tiny red dot. “Why does he have dog treats?”

“In case the wolves come closer,” she said.

I looked at her, eyebrows raised in warning. “You stay away from those wolves, Thea. Both of you. Okay?”

She stared at me, then nodded, hesitant.

“Promise?”

She licked her lips, taking too much time to answer, but finally she did. “I promise.”

I eyed her a second longer, then squinted at the tip of her finger. After my third attempt, I plucked the splinter from her finger, earning an “ouch” but I didn’t have time to apologize before she pressed her hurt finger against my lips. “Will you kiss it?”

I blinked. I must have done something resembling a kiss because she grinned gratefully, shouting a thank you as she skipped out of the bathroom, taking her tiny flashlight with her. I blinked again, took a deep breath and put the tweezers away in the darkness. Kids were an emotional whirlwind, I’d decided. And being around Thea warmed my heart and made me miserable at the same time.

Clearing my throat, I went back into the dining room to join the others. Thea settled back into her seat beside Beau and handed Elle the bandage wrapper.

“You got her splinter out.” Elle glanced at me from the end of the table, smiling as she fumbled with the bandage wrapper. “I didn’t know you had such advanced medical skills,” she teased and wrapped the Band-Aid twice around the tip of Thea’s finger.

“Well, troopers get a lot of owies in the field,” I told her.

“Ha. I bet you did.” With a sigh, she surveyed the table. “Beau, will you do the honors, please? It’s officially getting dark in here.” She handed him a lighter. It was a grown-up task he took seriously, and he leaned forward carefully and flicked the lighter on.

“Did you see giraffes when you were a wildlife trooper?” Thea asked. “Do you know what sounds they make?”

“No, no giraffes,” I told her. “Mostly bears and moose.”

“There aren’t giraffes in Alaska, stupid,” Beau said, holding his mouth just right as he lit the tapers in the candleholders. The entire table began to glow.

“We’re not using that word, Beau, remember?” Elle chided.

“Sorry,” he grumbled and sat back down in his chair.

“Good job,” Elle said, admiring the candles. “High-five.”

“It looks like you’ve outdone yourself tonight,” I told her, eyeing the dressings on the table: a vegetable medley, a basket of garlic bread, a casserole baked golden-brown, yams, and even a pecan pie. She set crystal goblets out, even for the kids, making the table sparkle in the candlelight.

“As Alex would say, it’s all about the frozen section.” Elle was good at playing off her hard work. But she’d put a lot of thought and effort into the dinner, wanting it to be special for Alex’s birthday. And she wasn’t much for cooking, so the effort was all the more noteworthy.

“Good job supervising, Sophie,” I told her.

She grinned, knowingly.

“Alex told us about a casserole recipe his grandma used to make—” Elle started, then she paused. “I just hope we did it justice.” She eyed the dish skeptically.

“It will be perfect,” Sophie reassured her, laying a clutch of extra napkins on the table.

Elle pulled her chair out from the table and nodded for me to sit down in mine.

“I found some,” Alex said as he stepped out of the walk-in pantry. He lifted up two dusty bottles.

“What is it?” Thea asked.

“Sparkling cider. I had it once when I was a kid. I think it was at Thanksgiving or something.” Alex didn’t talk about his family all that much, but I got the impression family gatherings were rare occasions. What I did know was he could boost cars and had a decent-sized scar on his right temple from who knew what, and more than anything, he was kind and grateful; he was always thanking me for teaching him how to do things big and small, like build a proper fire and keep a gun from freezing.

“Sparkling?” Thea said with awe. “Like soda pop? Can I have some?”

“It’s better than soda, and I’ll pour,” I told them, unscrewing the cap.

Once everyone had a glass of something, Sophie lifted her fancy goblet. “To Alex,” she said. “A great partner in crime and . . .” Her light-hearted words became heavy. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” She said in more of a whisper.

Alex nudged her arm with his elbow, smiling bashfully, but Sophie’s smile faltered and she quickly leaned away.

“Sorry,” Alex said, and took a drink from his glass.

That was the second time Sophie had shied away from someone’s touch—a male touch, as far as I could tell. But she smiled it off again. “Happy Birthday, Alex!”

I looked at Elle; she had to have noticed.

“Yay, Alex!” Thea cheered. “Happy Birthday to you,” she began to sing, her little voice a few octaves higher than my eardrums were used to.

Elle and the rest of them chimed in, but her perplexed gaze finally met mine, and I could see the worry in them too. Now wasn’t the time to discuss what had just happened, but at least I wasn’t the only one.

31

Elle

April 10

We sat at the firepit behind the house, watching the northern lights sailing across the sky, our marshmallows toasting in the hot flames of the campfire. It was nice to enjoy one of the few harmless Alaskan wonders. It almost felt like things were normal, or as normal as they could be.

Sophie stared into the flames, watching them dance. I wanted to ask her about what was going on with her tonight at the dinner table, but we hadn’t had a minute alone. Something was wrong—we all knew it—and it was getting worse. She woke up each morning earlier than the last, and retreated to her room almost immediately after dinner to work on her survival book, or because of her menstrual cramps; it was always something.

As withdrawn as Sophie was becoming, I began to wonder if she was depressed. The more I watched her, I began to recognize a familiar look of fear in her eyes—and that’s what worried me the most. I knew that fear; it was haunting and made you desperate. What was Sophie so afraid of?

Her sapphire gaze met mine across the fire, and she straightened in her Adirondack. “I’m getting tired, Thea. Are you ready for bed?”

Thea licked the chocolate off her fingers and shook her head as she sat back in her seat, yawning. “No.” It must’ve been nearly ten o’clock.

Beau was already curled up in his chair next to Alex, trying and failing to stay up past his bedtime with the rest of us. And Jackson . . . I peered around at the darkness and then at the backdoor. I wasn’t sure where he’d run off to.

“Thank you, Elle,” Alex said, leaning back in his chair with his hands shoved in his pockets. “I had a pretty awesome birthday.” Beau held up a corner of his wool blanket in offering, but Alex shook his head and ruffled Beau’s hair instead.

“Did you really have a nice birthday, or are you just saying that? You won’t hurt my feelings.” Birthdays were so personal; it was difficult to tell.

“The casserole was just like my grandma’s,” he said with clear sincerity in his voice. “Less burnt, thankfully. She’d forget about it warming in the oven most of the time.”

“I’m happy you liked it.” I smiled, admiring the affection in his voice when he spoke of his grandma. “You don’t talk about her. Were you two close?”

Alex pried his gaze from the fire and looked at me. “I stayed with her in between families sometimes. I slept on her couch and she’d make me breakfast, on her good days. She had emphysema, and other health stuff.” He pulled his blue beanie off his head and turned it around in his hands. “She made me one of these once too. They evicted me, we’ll say, from a family I was living with and I had to leave it behind . . . I don’t know whatever happened to it.” Alex was only eighteen and yet an entire lifetime shone through his shimmering eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Sophie breathed.

Alex stirred from his thoughts and looked at her. “It is what it is. I got a new one though.” He smirked at Thea and tugged the beanie back over his head. He had a charming smile, especially when he was deflecting.

“We practiced first,” Thea told him, yawning again.

Alex’s eyebrows rose. “Did you?”

“I know,” I said, “it’s hard to tell.”

“It’s perfect. I like things that are unique.”

“Ha. It’s definitely unique.” I watched him as he helped Thea clean off her marshmallow skewer, patient and natural at being an older brother. He had a sketchy past, exotic looking tanned skin, dark broody eyes, and a killer smile that probably made all the high school girls swoon, but he was stoic and sweet, too. He was a tough kid, and despite a life of constant disruption, Alex was solid, more than I was at his age, and I much-admired that about him.

A wolf howled off in the distance, and Thea straightened. “They’re back,” she whispered.

When another wolf howled in response, Beau looked at me. It was like he wanted to say something, but he looked back at the fire instead. I told myself the wolves weren’t any closer than I’d heard them in the past, their howls were just louder in the still night air.

“Good thing we built a fire,” Alex muttered, staring out into the darkness.

My eyes narrowed on Beau and Thea. “You two haven’t been taunting the wolves, have you?” I’d heard Jackson and Thea’s discussion about dog treats. “Or tried to lure them closer? They’re dangerous animals, remember. You understand that, right?”

Both of them looked at me.

“That’s my cue,” Sophie said, unfurling her legs. She climbed to her feet.

I cleared my throat, waiting for a reply. Finally, Thea nodded. Then Beau. “We know they’re dangerous,” he said, though I wasn’t sure he believed it. I had half a mind to start tying them up each day so they couldn’t get into any trouble.

“You ready for bed yet?” Sophie peered down at Thea.

Thea scooted out of her chair in answer.

“I’ll go too,” Beau said, and pulled his blanket back.

They were both guilty of something, I just didn’t know what. And even if it was harmless, I needed to find out. For peace of mind, if nothing else.

Putting discover all the kids’ secrets on my list of things to do tomorrow, I raised an eyebrow, watching them as they filed passed me, shamefaced. “Goodnight,” I said as the three of them disappeared into the house.

“Goodnight,” they echoed from inside the kitchen, and the back door shut behind them.

It was true, I was likely the biggest secret-keeper of all, but my secret was kept to protect them all. At least that’s what I kept telling myself. I didn’t want the kids getting hurt, no more than they already had been. I wasn’t sure how parents did it, especially with four of them.

“Do you have any secrets?” I asked Alex, more rhetorical than anything.

He glanced up from the firepit. “I have a bunch,” he said more serious than I’d expected. “Nothing exciting, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, it was sort of a joke. You don’t have to share them,” I said. “I was just thinking out loud.”

Alex’s dark eyes shifted from my face to my gloved hands, then back at my face. The longer his gaze lingered, the quicker my heart began to beat. “You shock me a lot when I touch you,” he said.

I didn’t think it was a question, but I wasn’t sure how to respond. “So you’ve said.”

“You don’t ever feel it?”

“It’s probably the gloves.” I folded my arms over my lap. “Static cling and all of that.” I didn’t know if that was an actual thing with gloves, or why it only seemed to happen with Alex. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?” I thought suddenly.

He shook his head. “It’s uncomfortable, but no, it doesn’t hurt. No more than pulling clothes out of the dryer.”

“Oh, well, that’s good, I guess.”

Alex looked back into the flames, their crackle punctuating the silence.

“What about you,” he started. “Do you have any secrets?”

My gaze shifted to him, tentative and curious. “What—”

The backdoor opened again and Jackson stepped out, I could hear his heavy footsteps.

“Did everyone go to bed already?” he asked.

When I peered back at him, he was a dark shadow in the doorway, then he stepped out into the firelight. His hair was loose and hanging around his face, dark and wavy. His goatee and beard still darkened his jaw, but were groomed. He’d become the quintessential mountain man, and I liked the way it looked on him.

“You just missed them,” I said.

“I guess it’s pretty late.” Jackson walked toward Alex. “This is for you anyway,” he said, stepping around the firepit. Jackson lifted the rifle strap off his shoulder and handed it to him. “Happy Birthday.”

Alex’s eyes opened wide, his mouth gaped. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“You’re shittin’ me.” He stood up, taking the rifle in his hands like he wasn’t sure it was real.

“I’m not shitting you,” Jackson said, a smile in his voice. He looked at me and winked. “You deserve it, kid. You’ve been beyond helpful, and I know you’ll appreciate and respect this.”

“Aw, this is so cool. I will,” he said and took Jackson’s hand for a firm shake. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Jackson came to sit in the chair beside me.

“Your gift is cooler than mine,” I told him. “I’m jealous.”

“What are you talking about?” Jackson shook his head. “I wish it was my birthday so you’d make me a hat.”

I laughed. “Sure you do.”

“I’m serious. My ears get cold sometimes.”

“You already have that fleece cap you always wear.”

“So, Alex already has one too.”

I wagged a finger at him. “Touché.”

I huffed out a deep breath, conceded my gift was a hundred times better than his, and we settled into a comfortable silence. The crackle of the fire was soothing, the rainbow of lights above mesmerizing. Sometimes I wondered how a place this beautiful could be so perilous at the same time. We’d had whiteouts and blizzards, and worried about freezing to death once during our trip, but we’d been lucky that was it.

“I’m gonna head to bed,” Alex said with a long stretch. “Thanks again,” He stared at his rifle, admiring it with a smile, then at us. “Tonight was fun.”

“You’re welcome, Alex.” I tugged the collar of my coat up higher around my neck.

“We still on for tomorrow?” Alex looked at Jackson.

“Yep. When the sun comes up.”

I looked at Jackson, a sense of unease washing over me.

“I’ll leave you the chocolate, just in case,” Alex said with a wink in my direction.

“You know me so well.” I grinned. “Sleep well.”

He pulled the strap of his rifle over his shoulder, and grabbed Beau’s discarded blanket off the chair.

“Night kid,” Jackson said, leaning forward to warm his hands over the fire.

“Night.” Alex climbed the porch steps and quietly went into the house.

As soon as the door was closed I looked at Jackson. “You’re leaving tomorrow?” I knew he’d planned on a supply run to Delta Junction, a town much larger than Slana, to find a slew of things on his list, especially since we were leaving in a couple weeks, but I hadn’t realized he was heading out so soon, or that Alex was going with him.

“Yep, Alex wanted to go with me, get a feel for the roads and learn what to look for when you all head to Hartley. Plus, he knows cars better than I do. I could use his help finding replacement parts for the Explorer and snowmobile.” He scratched his beard and leaned his head back against his chair. “I didn’t think it was a half-bad idea.”

“Then, what’s wrong?” He seemed as excited to have Alex tagging along as he did apprehensive.

Jackson shrugged. “You mean aside from the ordinary? Nothing, I guess. I just—I want you guys to be as prepared as you can be for whatever comes next.”

It was still a bit depressing to think about leaving him, but I was grateful for how much thought he’d put into all of it. “Thank you, Jackson. But we’ll be fine.”

His eyes drifted to mine. “I know,” he said. “But you should still be prepared for the unexpected. There’s no telling what might happen from one day to the next.”

“Trust me, I know,” I sighed, leaning my head back to stare at the sky. “I’ve been thinking about all the possible ways this could go wrong.”

“You can’t think about it like that,” he said.

“No? You do.”

He glowered at me, but he knew I was right. “What happened to all of that forced optimism that’s so annoying sometimes?” he teased.

I wasn’t sure if it was because he was leaving, Alex was going with him, or he’d reminded me that soon we’d be parting ways, but I felt sulky all of the sudden. “It’s failed me tonight, I guess.”

Jackson ran his hands down the wood armrests. “You’ll have a tribe again soon . . . not just a band of misfits.”

I sighed, strangely content with things the way they were. “I kinda like our band of misfits.”

Jackson smiled. “Me too,” he murmured. His voice was a baritone in the still night. “It was really nice what you did for Alex tonight, Elle.”

“The kids needed something special to celebrate.”

“That’s the only reason?” he asked with a sidelong look. The flames jumped in the fire pit, the wood crackled. Jackson’s gaze heated the side of my face, waiting for me to say something.

I picked up my cold cocoa nestled in the snow, my mouth suddenly parched. “I’ve always hated birthdays,” I admitted and took a sip. I tried to pretend it was chocolate milk instead of clumpy, snow water and packaged chocolate powder. “They were always a disappointment.”

“You didn’t get what you wanted?”

I shook my head. “It’s not that. Birthdays come with too many expectations—expectations that someone needs to care about your birthday to begin with; there’s the inescapable disappointment when they don’t. And you never know what strings are attached.”

Jackson’s brow furrowed. “There aren’t supposed to be strings attached at all. Not for a birthday.”

“That wasn’t the case in my family.” I took another sip. “I guess I needed to prove that’s not true anymore.”

His eyes glittered in the firelight, and as Jackson’s gaze trailed the contours of my face, my insides warmed a little. A hopeful feeling that scared me burned just below the surface.

Jackson looked away, clearing this throat. “You’re a good person, Elle. Alex and the kids are lucky to have you.”

“Thanks,” I whispered, pleasantly surprised to hear the words. Jackson didn’t bestow compliments often. “I know it will be hard, but I feel lucky to have them. I failed my sister and yet, somehow, I inherited a bigger family.”

“You didn’t fail your sister . . .” He looked up at the sky, his fist clenching on the armrest. “There was nothing we could’ve done differently.” He could barely say the words.

“Are you reminding me, or yourself?”

Jackson let out a deep breath. “Both.”

I pried my gaze from him, and we sat in silence for a few charged heartbeats. Both of us lost in thoughts we didn’t share. I thought about Jenny’s last hours and I thought about Sophie’s mom who died without saying goodbye to her daughter. I thought about Beau and Thea who watched their mom kill herself by jumping out a window because she’d lost her mind. And somehow, we’d all found each other. We were all okay. When I didn’t want to think about any of that anymore, I stood to put out the fire.

“You’ll be okay here with the kids?”

I looked at Jackson, waiting for him to continue.

“While I’m gone, I mean. Since Alex is leaving with me, I want to make sure you feel comfortable.”

I didn’t feel comfortable with it, not because I didn’t think I couldn’t handle the place for a couple days on my own, but because I knew what would come after they returned. “We’ll be fine,” I promised. “Besides, I need to get used to running things on my own anyway. Soon I won’t have a choice.”

Jackson blinked, opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. For a moment, I thought he might invite us to stay with him in Whitehorse, but then he conceded. “I guess you’re right.”

Nodding, I exhaled my unwarranted disappointment and shoveled a pile of snow onto the fire. “You’ve got a long day tomorrow, you better get some sleep.”

32

Elle

April 11

Thea and I hung laundry on the line outside the house, enjoying the sun on our faces and the woodpeckers looking for grubs in the early afternoon. Like last night, the skies were clear, and despite the cool temperatures, the sun was warm, a welcome break from the clouds and cold.

“Do you think Alex and Jackson are on their way back yet?” Thea asked, clipping her seventh clothespin on her jacket.

“I don’t think so. They’re staying in Delta Junction for a couple days.” I put my hand out. “Can I have another pin please?”

She scooted closer, her boots like miniature plows in the snow. She stuck her chest out so I could remove a pin from her jacket.

“This wasn’t what I had in mind when I asked you to help me,” I muttered, and as Thea often did, she giggled in reply. “Will you at least hand me the rest of the wet socks from the basket?”

“Yep!” she tweeted with a bounce.

“Thank you—”

“Elle . . .” Beau said tentatively as the front door opened. He stepped out of the house, the hinges squeaking as the door swung shut behind him.

“Yes?” I glanced over my shoulder. “You’re letting all the heat out, bud.” He balled his hands in front of him and he glanced into the house. His chest was heaving like he was going to cry.

I dropped the socks in my hands. “What is it?” I walked toward him.

“Something’s wrong with Sophie. She won’t stop crying.”

I took Thea’s hand. “Come on, let’s make sure she’s okay.” I already knew she wasn’t. Sophie wouldn’t even come out of her room this morning for breakfast.

I hurried into the house. Letting go of Thea’s hand, I swung the door shut, and ran up the stairs. I could hear Sophie’s body-wracking sobs from the hallway and opened the bedroom door.

“Soph?” I stopped in the doorway, taking the sight of her in.

She looked broken, completely undone. Her face was blotched with red, her cheeks wet with tears as she shook her head.

Taking an urgent step forward, I kicked her backpack, hearing a familiar sound. I looked down to find a pill bottle. I reached for it, finding another one beneath it. I grabbed that one too. Sleeping pills? I turned one around so I could see the front of it. “Modafinil . . .” I looked at her, blindsided, though I knew I shouldn’t have been. “Sophie—”

“I can’t do this anymore,” she mumbled through a thickening sob.

Can’t do it? The entire world seemed to stop. “Soph.” My voice was less than a whisper as I climbed onto the bed next to her. “What does that mean?” I reached for her, wanting to comfort her.

“You don’t understand!” she cried pulling away from me. “You can’t touch me—no one can touch me.”

“You’re right, I don’t understand,” I pleaded, searching her face. I trembled beside her with fear and uncertainty. “What happened?” I stared into her muddy blue eyes, bloodshot and heavy with exhaustion. “Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can feel it, inside me—in my head,” she cried. “I see it when I close my eyes—”

“See what? I can’t help you if I don’t understand.” I couldn’t help the desperation in my voice, the rising panic. Deep down I think I knew what she saw, what she felt. Fire, like me. “What do you see?” I repeated. I didn’t recognize my own voice—the unbridled fear, the shock. “What do you see?” It was a tentative whisper this time, horrified by what she might say next.

Sophie inhaled, a jagged, rough sound that tore at my heart, and she looked at me. “Everything.” She balled herself against the wall, desperate to be left alone.

My vision blurred with tears and I ran my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know what that means, Sophie.” I felt helpless as her body quaked, and there was nothing I could do.

“I know,” she bleated and looked at my gloves. “I saw it this morning when you came to check on me. I know why you wear them every day and what you’ve done.”

I nearly fell backward. “You . . . saw?” My head was shaking of its own accord. That made no sense. I couldn’t see things; I could only feel the fire. I could only feel the unquenched ache deep down.

“I’ve seen it all,” she whimpered, closing her eyes. “Like your fire burns inside you, something twists inside when people touch me.”

“Sophie . . .” I had no words of reassurance. All I could do was gape at her and stare at her hands and her sleeve-covered arms. “Touch?” It was only a breath of a word, but all I could manage. I couldn’t imagine the implications of what she was telling me, but I could see her hopelessness like it was my own. “You don’t feel the fire?”

“No,” she said, sniffling. She blinked with swollen eyes. “I only feel what you’ve felt, I see what you’ve seen.” Remembering my fear and my pure will to live no matter the consequences, I knew exactly how terrified she must be of me.

Finding my voice, I forced myself to gather my wits and be strong for her. I balled the blankets in my hands to keep them from shaking. “I would never hurt you, Sophie,” I rasped, barely able to speak. “I promise you. I would never hurt any of you.” But just like Sophie knew what I’d done to Thomas, she knew I couldn’t promise something like that either. I hadn’t realized it until now myself. I could promise nothing because I knew nothing.

“Please don’t be afraid,” I implored.

But Sophie was a million miles away, staring through me, at nothing. “I’m not afraid of you,” she breathed. “But I don’t want to feel any of it anymore.” She swallowed thickly and her chin trembled. “I know how Alex got the scar on his eyebrow. I know what it felt like to be shoved through the glass.” Each word was frail but the weight was heavy. “Jackson and the baby . . .” She ran her hands over her face and through her hair, swallowing her sorrow as best she could. “I don’t want to see it anymore. I don’t want to feel it—” She broke into sobs again.

Thea whimpered behind me, Beau whispering weak reassurances the way big brothers do, but I couldn’t think of them. I could only see Sophie. Broken and lost, the way I’d been. I didn’t understand any more than she did.

I inched my hand closer to lean in and she stiffened. “Don’t touch me, I only feel it when people touch me.”

“I won’t touch you,” I promised. “I just want to understand.” For months I’d been hiding the strange thing inside me, and for months I’d thought I was the only one. “How long have you been seeing these things? I mean, you should’ve told me, I would’ve understood. I would’ve tried to help you—”

“They were dreams at first.” She brushed the sweat-dampened hair from her face. “Then, I thought I was imagining them sometimes.” She looked at the pills on the edge of the bed. “But I can’t stop them anymore.” Her voice was rising again, and she buried her face in her hands. “I just want it to go away . . . I thought it would go away . . .”

“We’ll figure something out,” I told her. “We’ll talk to the others—we’ll figure it out together.”

Sophie looked at me, knowing all too well what that meant for me. I would have to tell Jackson what I’d done, and everything would change after that. I hated the reality but there was no other choice. Not anymore. Sophie was changed, I was changed—all of it was impossible. Maybe he would understand that, even if he could never forgive me for lying to him.

“We’ll tell them, and we’ll figure it out,” I repeated, and remotely I thought we couldn’t be the only ones. I hedged toward the edge of the bed. “Soph, do you hear me? We will.” Fire and telepathic memories—no, feelings and memories—were different, but in my gut, I knew it wasn’t a coincidence that she’d suddenly become psychic, not when my own physiology differed so greatly from before. “These are impossible things,” I whispered. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. “If I would’ve known, I would’ve been more careful around you, we all would have.”

I felt naked sitting beside her, a thousand question marks floating in the air between us. There were things I never allowed myself to think of, memories from my childhood I prayed I’d forget. Did she know them too? “Every memory? Every feeling?” I hated to ask, knowing what it cost her to think about all of it, but I had to know. Even if I understood she needed space to process her own feelings instead of ours.

“Every feeling of every memory I’ve seen, like I was there.” She nodded to the pill bottles. “I thought sleep would help, and when it didn’t I wanted to stay awake.” She gritted out angrily.

“Jackson and Alex are gone,” I said, trying to think it all through. “We won’t touch you—you won’t have to worry about that right now. You just need rest.” It was another plea.

I looked at Thea and Beau, both of them frightened, eyes wide with worry as they clung to one another. They didn’t need to know what we were talking about to understand the toll it was taking.

I climbed off the bed and I crouched down in front of them, tears streaming down my cheeks. I wiped them hastily away. “Sophie will be okay,” I told them. I reached for Beau’s hand, and then I reached for Thea’s, clasping their fingers in mine. “Sophie and I,” I told them. “We haven’t felt the same since we were sick.” I didn’t know how to explain it to them. “Do you feel different?” I asked, reminding myself we couldn’t be the only ones.

Thea shrugged.

“Do you feel it inside of you?” I tried to explain. “Something different, something scary?”

They both glanced between us, eventually shaking their heads, and I sighed with relief.

“We should give Sophie some space—”

“No,” she said. I turned around as she wrapped her arms around her knees, laying her head down. “No,” she repeated, so quietly I barley heard her.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded with a sniffle.

Beau led Thea to the bed, her hand in his. “Are you going to be okay now?” he asked. While he’d been strong and brave for his sister, I could see the damp skin beneath his eyes.

“I’ll get better,” she lied to him, patting the area of the mattress beside of her. “You can sit with me.” I wasn’t sure if she believed that, but I hope she did.

Beau climbed up onto the bed, sitting up against the wall next to her. Thea climbed up into my arms and we sat wrapped together on the edge.

“What’s wrong with her,” Thea asked, nuzzling into me as she rubbed the tears from her eyes.

“She’s sad,” I explained. “And afraid.”

“Why is she sad?” Thea’s little hand inched closer to Sophie, like she wasn’t sure she was the same person but desperately wanted her to be.

“She’s sad because we’re sad.”

Thea and Beau looked at me. I knew it wasn’t as simple as that, but if Sophie could feel our fear and sadness, she could feel our happiness, too.

“I have an idea,” I said, scooting further onto the bed, with Thea wrapped around me. “Why don’t we take turns sharing our happiest memories? Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“I have a lot of funny ones,” Thea admitted.

“Good, then why don’t you start?”

“Okay, well,” Thea began, and she looked at Sophie. “The first time I ever got a kitten, I named him Arnold, after my grandpa . . .”

Sophie’s gaze drifted to mine and she mouthed a thank you.

I nodded, just happy to see the tears had stopped, but my mind wandered. If Sophie knew what I could do, she would know what others were capable of, too. It was a conversation for later, but either way, I knew the next time I saw Jackson would likely be the last. When he returned, I would finally tell him the truth.

33

Jackson

April 11

The roads were still covered in snow as Alex and I drove to Delta Junction, but the snowplow hitched to the front of the truck helped us make decent time. With more daylight came more sunshine and a bit of warmth to take the sting out of the air. The snow became more compacted and drivable, adding a bit of ease among an unending list of all that could potentially go wrong. So, as the city came into view, I let out a relieved breath and glanced at Alex, dozing in the passenger seat.

“We’re here,” I said, slowing the truck just outside of town. I pulled the Tacoma off the road and into the tree line. The truck was Ross’s baby, supped up and weatherproofed, but the deep purr of a MagnaFlow exhaust echoing through town was the last thing I needed.

“Do you think anyone’s here?” Alex asked through a yawn. He’d woken up even earlier than I had, after Sophie’s early hour roaming through the house.

Peering out at the neighborhoods and buildings surrounding the outskirts of the city, my gut instinct was to tell Alex no, I didn’t think anyone was there, but instincts could be wrong, and our luck would likely lead to a big, fat yes.

“I guess we’ll find out,” I muttered and pushed the driver door open, then climbed out. “We’ve got four or five hours of daylight left.” I stretched, squinting at the snow-topped roofs that glistened in the sunlight. A hawk’s cry met my ears as I surveyed the cottonwood and birch trees surrounding the town. Everything seemed quiet, but we’d find out if that was true soon enough.

“Let’s get our things and make our way to the airlift first, it’s closest. They’ll have the medical supplies we need there. Then we can decide where to hit next.”

Alex heaved his backpack on. “Where will we stay tonight?” He closed the passenger door and walked around the front of the truck. He scoured our surroundings, gaze darting in all directions. I wasn’t sure if he was anxious or just curious. Or, maybe he was excited.

“We’ll look for a lodge to stay at on the way, something on the outskirts.”

I lugged on my pack and checked my compass, ammo, and secured the knife in my boot, the pistol in my belt, and the rifle on my back.

Alex did the same, patting himself down as he took stock of the knife clipped to his pocket, the rifle on his back, and the array of tools clipped into his utility belt. He looked legit in his cargo pants and long sleeves. With the weather mellowing a bit more, thermal layers sufficed without the bulk. Add the muted brown and green shades of camo, and Alex would look like he was ready for hunting season.

“Bear spray?” I asked.

Alex grinned easily, per usual. “You never know.” A white puff of breath filled the air as he chuckled.

“Isn’t that the truth,” I muttered, and nodded toward town. “Shall we?”

Alex fell into step beside me as we followed the road. There were bird and fox prints, even caribou beginning their trek for calving season, but there were no shoe prints or visible predators to be worried about. The tension in my shoulders eased a little as our boots crunched through the snow, almost echoing in the still air.

“If the weather stays this nice,” Alex said, “we might have a decent trip.”

“Don’t jinx us, kid. That’s the last thing we need.”

He grinned. “What’s a little more adventure?”

“Trust me, there will be plenty of it to come, and you might change your tune then.” I pulled my rifle off my back. “In fact, grab your gun. Keep the safety on, but hold it. I want anyone who sees us to know we’re armed.”

“Have you run into any survivors on your other scavenging trips?”

I nodded. “A couple, but I’ve stayed out of sight. I’ve only gone on two though. There’s not much in the way of supplies in these territories, things get airdropped more often than not, and since that hasn’t been happening, any sane survivors would hunker down and wait for winter to pass, like we did. Now, though, would be the time they’d come out, like us, and I don’t want to take any more chances than we have to. There are only six people I trust, you guys and Ross, everyone else is dangerous.”

I pulled my sunglasses down off my head, covering my eyes. The sun glared off the snow-lined gutters, nearly blinding me.

“Did anyone ever shoot at you—when you were a trooper, I mean?” Alex whispered.

I glanced at him. He was alert, his eyes scanning the street and toward town. I thought back to the meth lab I’d stumbled across, one of a few I’d found by my fourth year on the job. An addict in need of a fix had nearly blasted me; I’d ruined his score by showing up in the dead of night, out in the middle of nowhere after someone in the house called in an assault and battery charge. “Yeah, but only once, and Ross had my back.”

“You worked together?”

“We worked similar shifts.” I surveyed the sporadic businesses lining the side of the road, mostly warehouses and junkyards, a sign shop and mechanic garage situated between them. “If Ross was in the area, he’d show up if I needed backup. I did the same.”

“Sounds gutsy, pulling a gun on you. I’ve had a few run-ins with the cops and some of them even I thought I could take. But you—you’re a pretty intimidating guy. I wouldn’t mess with you.”

I chuckled. “A few run-ins, huh?” I glanced at him.

“Petty stuff, mostly.”

I stared at Alex, waiting for him to elaborate. He pulled his weight and helped out far more than I’d ever expected an eighteen-year-old to, but he never got personal, which I understood, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t curious.

“Vandalism,” he offered, and grabbed a couple piece of jerky from his pocket. He handed one to me, but I shook my head. “Burglary—but that was some bullshit,” he added. “I knew the guy whose house I was in, he’d just double-crossed me.” He tore a piece of jerky off with his teeth. “The charges didn’t stick, thankfully. I had enough incriminating crap on him, they didn’t care about me.”

“Sounds like you had shitty friends.”

Alex squinted down the road, a white puff of breath floating in the air as he exhaled. “They weren’t really friends, just guys I knew. Sometimes you don’t have a choice, you know?”

I understood what he meant. It was one thing to be given opportunities and make the wrong choices, but to have none to begin with, as I’m sure Alex often dealt with, your only choice was to take the lesser of the evils.

He looked at me like he thought I had a speech coming. “I’ve been a drunk most of my life. I’m not one to pass judgement. Besides, if bureaucrats still ran the world, your record would’ve been clean as of yesterday.”

The corner of Alex’s mouth quirked up. “I guess you’re right.” After a few seconds, he said, “You know, you’re not so bad for a cop.”

“Thanks, I think.”

Alex nearly snorted. “You’re welcome.”

A flagpole came into view. A dark blue flag with gold stars hung as the state symbol at half-staff, just like I’d seen on most flagpoles since Anchorage. It was a tribute from all the dying to the already dead, and they would likely hang that way forever.

“Do you want to check this high school?” Alex stared at it, uncertainty in his voice. It was a sprawling tan building with light blue trim that looked untouched from the outside. “They’ll have a nurse’s office. Maybe something we can use in the science class.”

I beamed with pride. “You know, I never would’ve thought of that.” I stepped aside. “Lead the way, hotshot.”

Alex took a deep breath as we crossed the street. The baseball diamond was mushy, the batting cages wet with melted snow.

“Did you like your job?” Alex tore off another pieces of jerky. “It’s one thing to be a street cop but out here . . . it’s gotta be rough, but it probably has everything though—the adrenaline rush, the brotherhood, the prestige.”

“Oh, and suddenly you care about prestige?”

“Definitely not. But the comradery sounds nice.” Alex shrugged like he didn’t care one way or the other, but I knew better. Everyone liked to feel like they belonged, and being a trooper made me feel like I was part of something bigger than myself.

“It was. Comradery was probably the main reason I lasted so long,” I admitted. “But it wasn’t exactly like they made it out to be in the recruitment commercials either. It was a lonely job too, kid. It’s not all honor and bravery and saving the world one kitten at a time. But yes, it was all worth it. Not only did it give me a purpose I didn’t know I needed with a group of guys I could count on, it pissed my dad off, so it was a double win.” I squinted toward the side entrance, watching for movement in the fenced in courtyard still covered in snow.

“What did your dad want you to do?”

I looked at the giant husky emblem on the side of the building. “Dog mushing.”

Alex laughed. “That’s kinda cool. You didn’t want to? I’m trying to picture you on the back of a dogsled.”

Eyebrows lifted, I glanced at him. “What’s with all the questions?”

“I don’t know, just curious.”

As we reached the door, I put my finger to my lips. Alex nodded and pulled his rifle closer. I didn’t hear anything as I leaned in, but that meant nothing. I reached for the handle and slowly turned it, trying not to make too much noise as I gripped my rifle more tightly with the other hand.

The door was unlocked, which wasn’t surprising given how suddenly the virus had happened, and I opened the door as quietly as I could. While the air outside was brisk, inside it was stagnant and almost humid.

The hallways were empty and there were no sounds or noticeable movement.

I motioned for Alex to check the office area while I headed down a hall of lockers, toward the classrooms. Luckily, movement in a place like this would echo; alerting us to anyone who might be inside. Unluckily, it would also echo our footsteps and give us away.

The office door squeaked open behind me and Alex froze, peering inside before he stepped in completely.

I continued down the hall. The walls were dressed with colorful banners. Bulletin boards were cluttered with hockey game schedules and haphazardly hung flyers with club announcements and the January production of Fiddler On The Roof.

Walking through a place so silent I could hear only my own breath, and my boots against the linoleum made the hair on the back of my arms stand on end. The halls were once teeming with voices but they’d never be full again. It was one thing to think about billions of people dying; it was a gargantuan, sweeping number that painted an extraordinary picture. But thinking about the individual lives that ended in a matter of days and hours felt heavier than a simple number, even one so immense.

These kids were complaining to their parents about homework and planning what to wear and who to ask out for the Turnabout. They’d had grueling hockey practices and tests to study for, and all their sleepless nights and worrying was inane. Every argument with their parents was wasted breath, just like my arguments with my father had been. Neither of us got what we wanted in the end. We’d resented each other all our lives, and it was all for nothing.

Alex walked up behind me. “One body in the principal’s office,” he said, swallowing thickly. Though I wished I could protect Alex from seeing dead, decaying bodies, it would only be a disservice to him.

I patted his shoulder and peered in through the window of a closed classroom door. Math formulas I didn’t understand were scribbled on the whiteboard, and I kept walking. “They must’ve cancelled school,” I whispered, looking in through another window. There weren’t bodies everywhere, like I’d expected.

Alex looked through a door window across the hall. “Hey look,” he said, opening it. I strode across the hall and stepped inside behind him, stopping in the doorway. Alex and I both stared at the whiteboard. “It must be a science class or something.” He glanced around the room and nodded to the periodic table across the back wall.

But it was the whiteboard that interested me. The sketch of a virus and its host with words, most of which I didn’t understand, scribbled around. Nucleoside. Darwinism. Quasispecies. I lifted a Genetic Mutation handout left on one of the desks.

Reassortment: responsible for major genetic shifts in the history of the influenza virus. Pandemic flu strains are caused by reassortment between different viral strands, avian and human, for example. H1N1 virus responsible for the swine flu outbreak was the result of an unusual mix of swine, avian, and human influenza genetic sequences. Ever-changing viral sequences lead to new or revived diseases, as well as natural selection.

I’d never been an A student, and science definitely wasn’t my strong suit, but Sophie liked it. I folded the handout and slid it into the textbook on the desk.

“Sophie’s going to geek out over this,” Alex muttered, and he followed me out the door. I set the textbook in the hallway to grab on our way out, and continued down the hall.

Alex and I moved in tandem toward the other end of the school; Alex continued to check the right and I checked the left.

“Look, a vending machine,” he said. “We could take a treat back for everyone.”

“On the way out,” I told him, eyeing the walls of an open classroom. “Make sure we remember to grab a Milky Way for Elle,” I said absently and stepped inside. Photos of students lined the walls, candid shots of them huddled around lab tables and posing with teachers. There were action shots of hunter green and off-white uniforms with hockey sticks in the air mid-motion. The entire room was a time capsule, and for the first time I considered what the footprint of our existence would look like in ten or twenty years.

Someone had written a production timeline on the whiteboard, and the yearbook was slotted for print this month.

I eyed a camera on the teacher’s desk, wondering what photos were still on it.

“Jackson,” Alex hissed. I glanced behind me as he walked into the doorway. “I found the nurse’s office. It looks a little ransacked.”

I spun around and followed him out into the hall, rifle in my hands, and waited for him to go in. Alex was cool and collected as he made a sweep of the room, and I followed in behind him. The room was tiny—large enough only for a cot, a stool, and a cabinet of supplies for the typical fever and sore throat.

Wrappers and torn boxes filled the wastebasket, shelves were disorganized, and a tan blanket made the cot look like someone had slept it in. The supplies weren’t as ransacked as I’d expected, but they’d definitely been gone through and some of them used.

Some over-the-counter antacids and anti-inflammatory bottles were open, and a disposable thermometer was out on the counter. The common flu they’d prepared for hadn’t been so typical in the end, though. None of this had helped them.

“Get the first aid kit, and the disposable thermometers,” I told him, eyeing what was left on the shelves. I grabbed suture scissors, gauze, and a bottle of Advil and put them in my backpack. I smashed open a locked cabinet to find the special and more urgent treatments. Fortunately, none of the kids had chronic ailments or allergies I knew of, but I grabbed the two EpiPens, sample inhalers, and what I thought might be the nurse’s pain pills. It wasn’t a lot, but it was better than nothing.

In all of our commotion, we heard a crash carry down the hallway from somewhere in the building, and Alex and I froze. I listened hearing nothing more, but it was time to move. Swinging my rifle around to my back, I pulled my Glock from my holster. I nodded for the door, then swept the hallway again.

There was a snarl in the distance—an animal’s. I wondered if Alex’s bear spray might actually come in handy as I turned the corner, met by a wall of windows that faced a courtyard. The scattered lunch tables were peppered with snow, and a dog’s wiry tail wagged as he tore at a mound in the snow. The dog jerked again, catching a brown tweed jacket in its mouth.

I held up my hand as Alex came up behind me. As the dog tugged, the body moved into view, and I turned away.

I could’ve scared the scavenging dog away, but there was no point. These people had been dead for months, and their ice capsule was melting. Soon every animal, both wild and once tamed, would know it.

Alex didn’t ask questions as we turned and headed back the way we came. “Let’s gather our things,” I told him. “We’ve still got a lot of ground to cover.”

34

Elle

April 11

The “constructive web” consists of strands that represent pathways of child development . . .

Candlelight flickered across the page as I scrolled through the developmental science book I’d found in the bookcase. Scouring the house for anything and everything that might be useful in understanding what was happening to us, especially after what I’d learned about Sophie.

. . . responsiveness to emotion and a support system determined by a child’s capacity for resilience. All of which depend on a variability in sequence, synchrony, and developmental range. Some children are more responsive and can process what others cannot. Many children can “bounce back” because their “constructive web” is still being developed.

I considered the way a rubber band twists and bends under pressure. Then about Beau and Thea, who both survived the same outbreak, yet had no symptoms—Sophie had felt nothing from them or Jackson. No strange powers, anyway. Why were they different than us—why had my own twin with the same DNA died and I hadn’t?

Broken down even further, why were some of us still alive while others weren’t? Even strong, young, healthy people hadn’t made it. If we couldn’t even answer that, then the rest would be impossible. Could the powers be gender or age related? Were the lunatics that walked the streets a sign of what might happen to us in time? I didn’t feel like I was losing my mind, yet. Especially knowing I wasn’t the only one who was different.

I pulled the glove off my hand and stretched my fingers. Physically there was nothing wrong with my hands, but I could feel it inside. And if the coastguardsman or Thomas—or any other crazy son of a bitch—could’ve done what I could do, I would probably be dead.

I closed the book and leaned back in my chair. Sophie and I could do impossible things, but the madmen we’d run into seemed to live on unchecked, instinctual human needs, not any type of power. What did Sophie and I have that no one else did?

Nothing in an old science book would explain what the hell was going on. Exhausted from thinking about it, I dragged my hands over my face. The warmth of my fingertips against my skin was a pleasant change to the soft leather that had become an extension of me. I stared at my fingertips, seeing what I’ve always seen. Hands that had snapped thousands of photographs, adjusted shoulders, and fluffed hair. They’d nearly frozen in the snow waiting to capture the perfect sunrise over Harding Icefield.

Now they did otherworldly things, and the idea weighed heavier on me than usual, as it often did when I was alone too long with my thoughts.

“Elle?”

I spun around. Beau stood at the bottom step, his hair mussed from sleep.

“What is it, bud?” I grabbed a blanket from the couch to wrap around him. “Bad dream?” I knelt down in front of him, careful not to touch his skin as I realized my gloves were on the table.

He shook his head. “I have to tell you something,” he said.

“You do?” After what had happened today it could’ve been about anything. “About what?”

“It’s about Thea.”

A distant sound caught my ear, and I shot to my feet. It was an engine, a truck—a big one. It rattled and rumbled, much larger than the Tacoma.

“Beau,” I whispered as it drew closer. “Go upstairs. Put out the fire and wake the girls—be quiet, okay?” I looked from the door to him. “Stay in the room and don’t come out. I’ll be up in a minute.”

All remnants of sleep were gone, and fear quivered in his blue eyes. He wanted to protest, I could practically see the words forming on his lips, but he did as I asked and scurried up the stairs.

I stared at the front door afraid to breathe. It was likely the people outside had already seen the smoke from our chimney, but I grasped at a shred of hope they hadn’t.

Blowing out my candle, I hurried to the window and pulled back the blackout drapes. The night was clear. The moon cast a blue sheen across the snow, and I could make out two human outlines a few buildings down. It most definitely wasn’t Jackson and Alex. Both silhouettes were those of men, big men, and they were searching for something. Another man stepped out of the shadows and stood a dozen yards down the street from the house, facing me, like he could see me through the window. The familiar heap of dread settled in my stomach.

They’d come with mal intent. The man’s grin spread from ear to ear, just like Donahoe’s had at the bus depot. The hair on the back of my arms and neck rose, and a sickening chill shot down my spine. They were crazy.

He eyed the house, appraising it. Wondering who was inside. Looking for a way in. Plotting. Planning.

Mind whirling, I grabbed all the coats from the rack and ran up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time until I was in my room. My pistol was in my hand in seconds, and I ran down the hall to the kids’ room. It smelled of fire smoke, and the three of them were awake.

“Soph,” I said, urgent but quiet.

“What do they want?” she rasped, as I shoved the jackets at the kids.

“I don’t know, but I need you to be calm and listen okay?”

She nodded warily, her eyes opening wide and saucer-like in the moonlight.

“You know where the shotgun is. Get it. Load it—I want you to arm yourself and put on your jackets because we will have to leave.” I looked at the three of them, needing them to understand. “Grab your bags, and when you have your things and the gun, I want you to barricade yourselves in this room until I come for you.”

I wasn’t sure if Sophie was nodding or shaking.

“Sophie—”

“I got it.”

“Soph,” I said, willing her to hear the gravity in my voice. “If something happens to me, you take the kids down, over the balcony—be careful—and take the Explorer straight to our meeting place, okay? Jackson will know to look for you there.”

“Elle—”

“Please, listen.” We’d discussed it all before, but in the moment’s urgency, I needed her to focus. “Follow the map, just like we’ve gone over and over. It’s imperative, Sophie. It’s the only way Alex and Jackson will find you.”

She nodded again, her eyes glistening, and my throat tightened. On light feet, she ran out of the room for the shotgun and I hurried to the window, peering out at the road. The man was still standing in the middle of the street, staring at the house. What the hell was he doing?

Suddenly, he disappeared into the shadows. “I know you’re in there!” he shouted. “I could smell you a mile away.”

“Get your boots on,” I told Thea, whirling around. “Soph,” I bit out as she ran back into the room, gun in hand. “Keep that gun fixed on this window and shoot any of them that come into view.” I didn’t know what they were planning but a slug to the leg or chest would slow them down enough for me to get a decent shot.

Her eyes widened, but she nodded without hesitation.

I ran down the hall and descended the stairs, using the kids’ terrified whimpers to fortify my resolve to kill the motherfuckers who’d clearly come to taunt us and then do worse.

I needed my eyes on them first, if I had any hope of taking them down. I snuck out the back door, quiet and careful, and rounded the house, listening for the approaching sound of footsteps in the snow.

It was biting cold out, but I barely noticed as my body felt aflame with adrenaline.

The men laughed beside their trucks as if they didn’t care if I knew where they were or if I could hear them. It was likely a trap, and I refused to take the bait. Using the station wagon in the driveway, blanketed in months’ worth of snow, and the foliage grown in around it, I hid from view and held my breath to listen.

“You can go back and tell the others about it,” one of them muttered.

I could barely make out their outlines through the trees. It wasn’t enough to get a shot without having to leave the cover of the station wagon.

“There are women in there, and children.” Mr. Smiles stepped out of the shadows again, closed his eyes and inhaled. “I can smell their fear.”

“Yeah, but how many are there?” whispered another. “You almost got us killed last time. That old woman was armed—”

“This is different,” Mr. Smiles’ voice was low as he peered around. “There’s a weak one—sick maybe. And the children . . .”

“And a pissed off mother,” another bit out. “You’re going to get us killed, Tommy.”

“Not if you stop them first,” Tommy bit out. “We’re here to practice, so fucking practice—use your senses and stop being a little bitch.” He smacked the man upside the head.

Senses? Like powers? My worst fear assembled before me: insane wielders of inhuman powers hunting for victims, ready and willing to use them, even on children. But in this scenario, I wasn’t helpless. In fact, I was fuming, loathing every crazy asshole left in this world, wanting them to burn.

The anger stirred, vehemence stoking the flame.

I needed the rest of the men to step out of the shadows so Sophie and I could take our shot.

“How many of them are there?” One of the men rasped. I could see pacing shadows through the trees and hear the uncertainty in his voice. Tommy’s flunkies were wobbling and I could use that to my advantage.

Tommy shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you come and see!” I said as loudly and confidently as I could. “We won’t hurt you.”

Tommy’s sneer was visible in the moonlight, and his eyes glistened as he searched the outline of the station wagon for me. “I wondered why the scent grew stronger.”

That he could smell me made my skin crawl and the burn in my veins turned to a boil. “If you drop your weapons we won’t kill you,” I lied.

Tommy held up his hand as he slyly motioned for the others not to move, then he stepped back into the shadows with them. “You promise?” he asked, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

That was one thing I was learning about the crazy survivors; they tended to think they were so smart, but were overzealous and that left room for error. The people in the bus depot had been the same way, and all it took was a little unexpected disorder for them to lose their footing.

“Of course I promise.”

I heard him inhale, in an exaggerated manner, like he wanted me to know what he was capable of.

“You’re not like the others,” he realized.

I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I used it to egg them on. “Is that why you’re hiding in the shadows, because you’re afraid of a woman?”

I heard the click of a gun magazine as one of the men growled. “I’m going to fucking kill her, Tom, I’m going to—”

“You’re hiding like little boys because you’re scared; you don’t know how many of us there are. You don’t know what we can do.”

“The fear I smell tells me it’s not much,” Tommy bit back.

“Then, come closer—”

“How about I shove my pistol in your mouth, bitch, and shut you up!” the aggressive one shouted.

“Get your shit under control, Bill,” Tommy ground out. Low voices were pointless on a still night. “You hear me? Your strength is no good if you get shot in the fucking head.” There was a rustle, and while I couldn’t see what they were doing, I didn’t care.

Strength. Smell. Whatever their abilities, I wasn’t waiting around to find out what they could do. Without hesitation, I aimed through the trees, knowing I’d injure them if nothing else, giving myself time to get closer.

There was a creaking of a door, like they were pulling something out of the truck, planning something I couldn’t see. I needed to make my move. Now.

Before I could pull the trigger, the shotgun upstairs went off, and I heard a man curse in pain as he fell to the ground. Heart pounding, I crouched and ran around the station wagon, praying I would get a clear shot before one of them did.

When I saw one of them stand up, I pulled the trigger, the man’s body instantly falling to the ground with a thud.

I strained to listen over my heartbeat for movement—for noise. One growled in pain on the ground, but I heard no one else. Only two shots, and while two men might be down, there was still one unaccounted for. Hiding. On the run. Crouched in waiting for a decent shot.

I squinted into the darkness, pressed against the shadows of the trees lining the yard, hoping for the slightest movement.

Another gunshot rang out through the house, and I ran to the backdoor, not caring who could see me. “Sophie!” I screamed, and I fumbled up the steps and inside as quickly as my feet would move. My pistol was raised, and I moved so fast, I felt like I was flying. Then the kids screamed.

“Thea!” I shouted again, reaching the landing to find a lifeless man on the floor. Sophie’s jacket was hanging off her arm and her shirt was ripped, but she was okay.

I leapt over the body on the floor and into the kids’ room. They were crying, huddled in the corner, terrified, but alive.

They were alive.

Beau held his sister in his arms, both of them shaking as tears streamed down their cheeks.

Sophie stood facing the doorway, staring at the man’s body. “I hesitated—”

“It’s okay, Sophie. You saved Beau and Thea. They’re okay because of you.”

I dropped my gun and with shaking hands I pulled her into my arms and choked a sob. I could’ve gotten them all killed. “We should’ve gotten to the car and left,” I breathed. The four of us might’ve been shook up, but the kids wouldn’t have had to see another man killed. “We should’ve just left,” I repeated.

Beau screamed and Sophie shouted my name, pointing behind me.

I turned around as the dead man clambered to his feet, but he hadn’t been dead, the gunshot was in his leg. He had my stupidly discarded gun in his hand.

“You stupid bitch,” he seethed, rubbing the back of his head. There was blood on his hand from where he’d hit the wall, I could see it on the pale paint. He glared at Sophie, then at me, limping to a stand. Sophie’s shotgun was on the floor, reachable, but not without him shooting one of us first.

I stepped in front of Sophie instead; anger, terror, and hatred coursing through me like the breath that sucked in and out of my lungs. I am not helpless, I reminded myself. The adrenaline fed every part of me. “What the hell do you want!” I ground out.

“You to die,” he said, and he aimed the pistol at me. His leg almost gave out on him, but he didn’t need both legs to shoot me.

“No,” I told him and shook my head. I outstretched my arms, like a protective shield.

“Next time, make sure I’m dead,” he seethed, and I knew what was coming before I heard his finger on the trigger. I could feel it in my bones, the imminent future, and I would not let him hurt us.

“No!” I growled this time. Raw power whirred through my veins, and for the first time in months I gave into the incessant heat. A burning energy lit my skin, turning to roiling red flames, and the man’s sneer faded.

A raging, blinding power enlivened every part of me, and without moving, I reached for the intruder with fingerlike flames. They wrapped around his neck, dropping him to the ground as his eyes bulged and he clawed at his neck. Then he began to scream.

An indescribable force leached from my every pore as the man’s life force flared with desperation. I could feel his energy coursing through me, feeding the fire to blazing.

And with his final breath, the inferno was snuffed out.

Everything grew dark again, and I dropped to my knees, my chest heaved and I gasped for breath. My molten insides cooled with each pull of crisp air, and my eyes adjusted to the darkness. The man was more than dead; I scorched him nearly to ash, smoke steaming from what remained.

“Elle . . .” Beau whined. But I couldn’t respond as I tried to find myself again.

“Elle . . .” Sophie said close behind me.

I peered back at their blurred visage. “Are you all right?” I croaked.

They climbed to their feet to run over, and I shrieked, backing away. “Don’t—” I warned them. “Don’t touch me.” My body had been aflame. “Don’t touch me,” I reiterated, still trying to catch my breath. I stared down at my clothes, realizing they were partially singed and smelled of smoke, but my hands were my normal hands once more. I turned them over and over and I patted my chest, making sure I was in one piece.

Beau was crying behind me while Sophie tried to ease him away. “Give Elle some space, bud.” I could only hear her remotely, somewhere distant, as I stared at the burnt man’s remains, remembering the night I’d killed someone for the first time. This time, I allowed myself to feel gratitude for what I could do, even if I didn’t understand it. Even if it was dangerous.

“Gather your things,” I said, rising shakily to my feet. “They have a larger group, and they could be here any second. We need to get out of here.”

I picked up my pistol and handed Sophie the shotgun. “You might need it.” We could dissect whatever had happened later. More men would come looking for these ones. “I’ll be right back.”

Sophie took a hesitant step toward me. “Where are you going?”

I didn’t tell her one man was still alive outside. There was no reason to. “He was right,” I said as I gripped the railing to the stairs. “I should’ve made sure he was dead. I won’t make that mistake again.”

35

Elle

April 11

I brushed a loose strand of hair from my face, finally feeling the coiled tension in my body ease the further we drove from Slana. I’d changed my clothes, but my hair was a knotted mess and smelled of burnt cotton, making it difficult to lock the past three hours away somewhere deep in my mind for a little while. At least if more men showed up, we’d be long gone. For the first time in my life, I hoped for a snowstorm to cover our tire tracks.

I prayed Jackson and Alex would see our note. Jackson hadn’t picked up the sat phone when I’d tried to call him. Now, it was what would happen after they saw the man upstairs that I couldn’t get off my mind. Jackson would see what was left of the charred body in the hallway; he could put two and two together and would know I was the one who killed his father, and while he might not fault me for saving myself, he would hate me for lying to him. I hated me. He deserved the truth, and yet I hadn’t been able to give that to him. It was self-preservation and selfishness, just as much as it was fear.

My gloved hands gripped the wheel, the leather protesting. Succumbing to thoughts of the unknowable future, I continued down the dark highway. The ever-present thing inside me had brought as much horror as it brought protection and peace of mind. Knowing there were others that could do impossible things made driving with the lights on a risk, but it was one I had to take if I would get us to our meeting point in Tetlin safely.

In our haste, we’d crammed the Explorer full of what supplies we could, and hitched up the trailer only half loaded, but we had the essentials, which was enough. It had to be.

Sophie stared out the window.

The car was awash with silence, and I cleared my throat. “How are they doing back there?” It was the first and only thing anyone had uttered since we’d gotten on the road.

Sophie glanced in the back. “They’re sleeping.”

“Good. But I don’t know how they can sleep after what just happened.”

Remembering Sophie’s torn shirt, I cleared my throat. “Sophie,” I said as carefully as I could. In the past twenty-four hours she’d had a breakdown, confessed her biggest secret, killed a man, and I wasn’t sure what else.

She looked at me.

“Did he touch you, Soph—”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“That’s not what I asked.” I knew the look on her face. It was one of shame and disgust. Even if I knew he didn’t get far, the thought of his hands on her at all made the bile churning in my stomach creep its way up my throat.

“I don’t think that’s what he wanted, but either way, we stopped him. Really, I’m fine, Elle. I promise.” That she’d likely seen his intentions when he touched her might’ve been the worst part of all.

Thea stirred in the back seat, and Sophie leaned her head back with a sigh. “When I was little, I loved riding in the car. It was soothing. I always fell asleep. Now . . . not so much.” Leaning over, she rifled through her pack and pulled out a bag of sunflower seeds. “Want some? They help me keep my mind busy.”

“No, thanks.” I glanced in the rearview mirror, relieved to see there was still only darkness behind us, and the faint red hue of our taillights. “My stomach’s in knots. I’d probably just throw it up.”

Sophie tossed a handful into her mouth, and aimed the heater vent at her.

“I wonder if I’ll ever be cold again,” I thought aloud.

Sophie eyed me a moment, then a slight upward curve formed on her lips. “Lucky.”

I allowed myself a small smile. In a way, I guess she was right.

Sophie brought an empty water bottle to her mouth and spit in a few shells. “Hey, Elle? He said he could smell us.”

My jaw ached as I gritted my teeth together. “Yeah, he did.”

“He could smell us . . . That’s crazy right? I mean, if . . .” She leaned her head back against the headrest. “If we can do what we can do, and we’re not crazy, and he could do what he could do and he was . . .”

“Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. I’m not sure how to tell who’s what, fanatical or just plain mad.”

“What else can people do? I mean, how much danger are we really in?”

Her gaze was adhered to my face, waiting for answers I didn’t have.

Sophie rolled her shoulders and stared out the windshield. “Predator and prey.”

I glanced at her. “What?”

“In nature, there’s a balance to everything—an evolution. Like a moth with large eyes painted on its wings to scare off predators, and frogs with alluring toxic skin. Jackson said we’re not the top of the food chain anymore.” She popped a few more seeds into her mouth, trying to put the pieces together, but I had little insight to offer. “If natural selection reset the scales, those of us left have to find a new balance.”

“You’re saying what’s happening to us is Mother Nature?” The thought hadn’t occurred to me. “That seems a bit rash.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

I blinked at her. “I feel like evolution takes a bit longer than a couple days of being sick with the flu.”

“Mother Nature can be extreme—just look at where we live. What matters is that we’re not defenseless. If the bad guys can use their powers for evil, we can use ours for good.”

“Soph, we’re not superheroes—”

“No, but we’re different and you saved us tonight. If you hadn’t fried that guy, we’d wish we were dead.”

I gripped the steering wheel more tightly, hating that she had to know it was true.

“There may be bad guys out there who’ve become more powerful than they were before, but Mother Nature or whatever this is, hasn’t left us defenseless.”

“Not all of us can do this kind of stuff,” I reminded her. “So how does that rate in your theory? Some of us are defenseless against superpowers? That seems rigged.”

“I didn’t wake from the fever like this. Maybe it takes time and not everyone knows they have a superpower yet.”

“Soph, can you stop calling it that please? It’s weird.”

“What do you want me to call it, a gift?” she said dryly.

I shuddered. “No, it’s not a gift.”

“Then we’ll stick with power for now.”

I sighed, too exhausted to argue. Theoretically, Sophie’s points were valid, but the how of it all was still a mystery. “What does that mean for you? Your superpower is to be miserable by seeing and feeling people’s memories?”

“I guess,” she grumbled.

I didn’t want to criticize her for something completely out of her control, but if someone less obvious and sinister than Mr. Smiles had bad intentions, she wouldn’t know until he already had his hands on her.

“I’m just trying to understand,” Sophie whispered, her voice deflated to utter exhaustion.

“I know, Sophie. I’m sorry. I’d like to think I’m superhuman and can save the world, but it doesn’t work that way. What I can do is dangerous. I am dangerous.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

Sophie didn’t argue further and turned her attention back out the window. “Jackson will freak when he finds out what happened,” she muttered.

I rested my elbow on the door and rubbed my temple. “Yes, he will.” And that was putting it lightly.

“Not because of the bodies,” she clarified. “He will think he failed us—he’ll blame himself.”

“What? No, he might worry for a minute, but he’ll be occupied with other feelings, trust me.”

“You don’t know him like I do.”

The certainty in her voice gave me pause, and I glanced at her.

“He couldn’t save his wife and child, and he’ll feel like he failed us too.”

The last thing I wanted was Jackson to bear the weight of guilt for something completely out of his control. “But we’re fine,” I told her, like she could somehow channel that to Jackson. “He’ll see our note and he’ll know we’re fine.”

Sophie nodded slightly, probably just to make me feel better, but she said nothing else.

I peered quickly back at the kids, heads lobbed to the side, faces smooshed with sleep. “They’re going to need so much therapy,” I muttered.

Sophie chuckled, even if it was true.

I thought about Dr. Rothman. “I used to know a pretty good therapist,” I said, but Sophie probably knew that already. “I’m sorry you have to know everything,” I told her. My baggage was heavy and drowning, I couldn’t imagine carrying the weight of everyone else’s baggage too.

“Not everything, but yeah, I know about her. Sorry.”

I reached for Sophie’s hand, an instinctive offer of comfort, and she didn’t shy away when I clasped my hand over hers. “Don’t be sorry about what you can do, Soph. I wouldn’t wish my bullshit on anyone. I’m sorry you have to feel the things you do. I honestly can’t imagine.”

Sophie stared at my hand.

“Sorry—” I tried to pull away, but she clasped her other hand on top of it.

“It’s okay.” When I glanced at her, she smiled. “It’s not all bad. I see the good stuff too, it’s just harder to remember sometimes.” I nodded and pulled my hand away. “It’s nice to have someone like you, to know how much you care.”

The road blurred as my eyes began to shimmer. “I would do anything for you, Soph.”

“I know. And Dr. Rothman would be really proud of you.”

I blinked, licking my lips. I imagined Dr. Rothman would tell me I’d finally found my family, even if it had been in the most impossible sort of way. “Thank you.” I wiped my eyes and cleared my throat.

Sophie spat her seeds into the bottle, both of us ready for a change in subject. “Let’s see if there’s a new transmission from Hartley,” she said, and switched on the radio.

She scanned the static until it stopped at a familiar voice. I rolled my eyes, following the bend in the road.

“They’re calling them safe zones,” said Mr. Conspiracy Theory over the radio.

“I swear this guy is haunting me—”

“Look out!” Sophie screamed as three caribou ran out of the tree line and onto the highway.

I slammed on the breaks and the Explorer swerved. My arm flew out to cover Sophie as the car collided into one of them.

The car crunched and rolled, and everything was silent.

36

Elle

April 12

The scent of balsam and earth filled my nostrils. My head was pounding like a kick-drum in a heavy metal band, and my limbs felt too heavy to move.

I remembered the caribou, and my eyes flew open as I gasped.

“Shh. Shh.” A man hummed beside me.

The world was a blur that made little sense, but I wasn’t in an aluminum grave, like I’d expected. No more cold air. No more kink in my neck. I was in a bed in a warm room.

I blinked again, my heartbeat drumming as a male form stood up from his perch beside me. My breath caught in my throat as an all too familiar silhouette came to stand beside me.

I tried to shout. “Who—” My throat burned, and I nearly choked. “Who are you?”

“Shh.” The man pressed lightly against my shoulders, easing me back down. “Your body needs rest,” he said a little gruffly.

I shook my head, regretting it instantly, and my hand flew to my temple. A shooting pain ricocheted through my chest, and I cringed. “Ow . . .”

“Easy,” he said. “You need to take it easy.” His dialect was one I’d heard before, a mix of soft and hard consonants, like the old fisherman who always sat on the dock, smiling at me as I disembarked the cruise ship back home.

I blinked up at him, watching his fuzzy form take shape.

“You probably have a concussion.” He had dark, wrinkly skin, a pinched mouth, and shaggy gray hair around his ears.

“Beau—Thea—”

“They’re all right, Miss.”

Another man with a fur cap startled me as he moved in the doorway behind him. “My wife is making them burbot stew next door.”

“Next door . . .” I blinked at him, trying to piece together the forgotten moments. “You were standing outside the window—” I tried to remember. I was hanging upside down in the driver seat, and he came to get me out. “Where’s Sophie?”

“Everyone is fine. A little banged up, but it looks like you got the worst of it.”

Even the soft firelight seemed too bright, and I closed my eyes, willing the throbbing to go away. “There was a herd of caribou in the road . . .”

“I know, Miss,” he said as he stepped further inside. “One of them didn’t make it, but the others took off. I’m headed out to track them now.”

“Track them? Why?” I peeled my eyes open again and noticed he had a rifle in his hand.

“There’s no sense in lettin’ good meat go to waste.”

Caribou. After everything else, I hit a fucking caribou? We’d almost died. Again.

Unbidden, tears burned the backs of my eyes. “The kids,” I said. “I need to see them.”

“Of course,” the hunter said, and the floorboards protested as he turned to leave. “I’ll send them in.” There was a gentleness in his voice that made the tears form faster.

“Who are you people?” I asked with a tremulous breath. I stared between the old man and the hunter at the door.

“I’m Del,” the hunter said. “This man here is my father-in-law, Took. We heard the accident as we were packing up to go out ice fishing. We brought you back to our place on Mentasta Lake, just outside the village.”

They were Athabascan, natives to the land and subsistence homesteaders, which accounted for the Moon Totem around the old man’s neck. They could’ve hurt us if they’d wanted, instead I was in a warm bed with a fire burning in the stove and incense in the air.

“Thank you,” I heard myself say, though my voice seemed far away. I wiped the moisture from my eyes, registering how strange my hands felt, then horror shot through me. I stared at my naked fingers. “Where are my gloves?” I croaked. “I need my gloves—”

“Miss—”

I gripped the blankets between my fingers, ignoring the ache in my wrist. “Where are they?” I grimaced as a sharp pain shot through me. I would get up if I had to, and the old man knew it. His eyes widened, and he leaned over to a small table against the wall and handed them to me.

I pulled them over my fingers. “You don’t understand,” I said in a rush. “You don’t understand.” I ignored the pain in my side and my chest—in every tiny movement. “Please,” I pleaded, barely able to keep myself together. What if they weren’t kind, what if this was all a ploy I couldn’t make sense of in my fuzzy state? What if the kids weren’t really okay? “I need to see Sophie.” It was the only way I could be sure she and the kids were safe—that these people were trustworthy—before I lost the last shred of control I had left to hysteria.

“I’ll get her,” Del said, more apprehensive than kind this time. With a final exhale he disappeared out the door.

“Can I continue then?”

“What?” I looked at Took.

“I need you to look at me,” he said, grumpier than before.

I did as he asked, and followed a barrage of requests: look to the left and to the right; let me know if you feel nauseous or dizzy; take a deep breath. And when I winced, Took nodded and leaned back in his rickety, old rocking chair. “It’s as I suspected.”

“What is?”

“You have a bruised rib, or maybe it’s cracked, and a strained arm too, by the look of it. I don’t think it’s broken though. And you likely have a concussion.” I didn’t argue with him. My chest, my arm, my face and head . . . They all ached.

“May I touch you?” he asked. There was a sass in his voice I appreciated; even if he was irritated, he was at least being rational. “I need to wrap your wrist before you make it worse.” He practically glared at me, and I felt my cheeks redden. I peered down at the quilt clenched in my hands and let go.

I nodded.

“Now,” he said evenly. “Can I fold your glove down so I can finish with your wrist?” He was beyond exasperated with me.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” With rough but steady fingers, he folded the hem of the glove down and rubbed a salve around my wrist. It was mentholated and cool against my skin, and smelled of dirt.

“What is that?” I asked.

“Birch sap, to help with the swelling,” he said, wrapping a bandage around it.

I peered around the small cabin, the size of my room back in Slana. There was only a single window, covered with a gray-and-black fur. Light from the wood-burning stove flickered against the walls, and a candle burned in an old coffee tin on the table beside the bed.

I wanted to believe these were good, honest people who wanted to help me, but a whisper in the back of my mind kept saying, what if?

Took sat back in his chair, putting the lid on the salve.

I flashed him a sheepish, tentative smile. “Thank you.”

He nodded but watched me with shrewd, gray eyes. He was as leery of me as I was of him. I probably seemed psychotic after my outburst with the gloves. It was for his own good though.

“Can you tell me how long I was asleep?” My head was too muddled to tell.

“A couple hours.” He poured me a copper cup of water and set it on the side table. “You should rest.” He got up and stretched his back, clutched the salve in his hand, then went to the door and stepped out. Daylight filtered inside, cold air came with it, and I welcomed the reprieve. Then Took closed the door, shutting me inside again.

Leaning back against the feather-stuffed pillow, I took a deep breath and peered around the small wood cabin, devoid of any frivolities. The only thing that hung on the wall was a realistic sketch of an owl. A walking stick was propped up next to a patchwork leather jacket, hanging on a hook by the door, and snow boots were discarded beneath it.

The only other furniture was the small table, which had the candle and the cup of water. The table could fit no more than a book, and a trunk sat at the foot of the bed, resting on a pinewood frame. A quilt and blankets of fur were draped over me.

As carefully as I could, I peeled one of them off with a shaky arm. The cabin was well insulated, I’d give them that, and the longer I laid there, listening to the roar of the fire, the heavier my eyelids became.

I pressed my fingers to my side and then to my chest, wincing as I tried to figure out where it hurt the most. My chest and my side. My head. Everywhere, I decided.

The door creaked, slowly at first, and my eyes flew open. Sophie poked her head in, and when she saw me, she smiled and opened the door wider for Thea and Beau to come in.

I exhaled every ounce of tension in my body at the sight of their smiling faces.

“You’re awake!” Thea chirped, and she skipped over. She had a butterfly bandage on her left cheek.

“You—” I winced, moving too quickly to sit up in bed.

Sophie reached for Thea’s arm before she got too close. “Del said to be careful,” she reminded her. Regretfully, Thea stopped short of jumping up on the bed.

“Oh, I’m okay, just a little tired,” I told them, overjoyed. The scratches and bumps on their faces could’ve been so much worse.

I absorbed the sight of Beau and Thea, both in one piece, then looked at Sophie. Each of their expressions were soft with affection not fear, and my eyes filled with tears. I covered my face and shook my head. How was it possible that things had gone from bad to worse in a matter of hours? “I can’t believe that happened,” I said, voice trembling.

“It’s okay,” Sophie said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “We’re okay.”

“The car’s screwed,” Beau added, and I huffed a quick laugh.

Thea glared at him. “That’s a bad word.”

Beau rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” If they were bickering, they really were okay, and I nestled a little deeper into the bed.

“Jade is really nice,” Thea said. “She’s making lunch, and we can stay here as long as we want.”

I glanced at Sophie. “Are you certain?”

She tilted her head and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Yes, I’m certain. They’re all very nice.”

“Took is funny. He’s just like my grandpa,” Thea said. “He makes funny duck noises.”

Beau rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t look like Grandpa. Grandpa isn’t Inuit.”

“Yeah-huh!”

“No, he’s not. You’re such a liar—”

“Okay you guys,” Sophie interrupted and she shooed them away from the bed. “Let’s let Elle get some rest, okay?”

“I can’t rest,” I said, wincing as I flung the rest of the covers back. “We need to figure out how we’ll get back on the road. Jackson and Alex—”

“Elle, please. We’ll figure it out, but you can’t fix this right now—you look like you’re going to pass out.”

My pain tolerance was high, but between my head and the fact it hurt to breathe, I knew she was probably right.

“Alex and Jackson won’t be heading back until tomorrow, anyway. They won’t know anything’s happened. You have time to rest.”

Each breath was a sharp twinge, and I knew the pain meant one thing: I was useless for now, and I had to trust Sophie’s judgement. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll try.”

Sophie stood up to leave.

“Elle,” Beau said, excited. “They have a real bow and arrow. Del said he might teach me to use it if you say it’s okay.”

“Guys, come on,” Sophie ordered. “We’ll deal with that later. Elle needs to sleep. We’ll bring her some soup when it’s ready.”

“That would be great, thank you.” I had no appetite, but I welcomed any excuse for them to come back and reassure me they were okay.

The kids turned on their heels, the knitted ball at the top of Thea’s beanie shaking with each step as they made their way to the door. Sophie turned back to look at me. “We’ll be back to check on you in a little while.”

I nodded, beyond grateful for her. Then, the three of them were out the door, clicking it shut behind them.

I stared up at the birchwood ceiling as the light from the stove flickered across it. How long did a busted rib take to heal? With my luck, months. After I got some sleep, I would walk back to the Explorer and get the satellite phone. I would call Jackson, they would find us, and we’d figure it out together.

With that comforting thought, my eyelids drooped lower, and I fell back to sleep.

37

Jackson

April 12

The sun sank behind the mountains and the sky grew darker as we settled in for the final stretch back to Slana. The trip was successful with no run-ins to speak of. In the scheme of things, the hungry dog didn’t count. We’d gotten what we needed and were out faster than I’d expected, which meant we’d return to Elle and the kids a day early.

The trees passed outside the window, dark shadows in the inky sky.

“Jackson,” Alex said, he’d been quiet for the past couple hours.

“Hmm?” I glanced in the rearview mirror to find a stretch of snow and nothing more.

“Have you felt weird since you had the fever?”

I glanced at him. I’d felt a whole mess of things since the virus. “Just about everything is weird these days.”

Alex stared out the passenger window, quieter than usual.

“What’s on your mind, kid?”

He shrugged, though it was obvious it was weighing on him. “I haven’t said anything because I don’t actually know what it is, but, sometimes I wonder if something is wrong with me.”

It felt like we were heading into a discussion I was ill-equipped to handle, but I had little choice. With a quirked eyebrow, I looked over at him. “What do you mean?”

“Sometimes, when I’m around Sophie, I feel strange things—”

“Wait—aren’t you old enough to know about boys and girls and—”

“What? No—I mean, yes, I am.” He shook his head. “I’m not talking about sex.”

I silently thanked Mother Nature that puberty hit before eighteen.

“It’s a charge . . . it’s kind of indescribable, I guess. I’ve gotten it around Elle too, a couple times. It’s different around both of them, but the same too.”

“A charge? What, like static?” I switched the headlights on as the road grew darker in the failing light.

He shook his head. “It’s fucking weird, like I said. It’s not all the time, but it makes me feel powerful and full of energy, like I need to do something with it.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the window. “I sound crazy.”

“Alex, I’m not sure what—” I leaned forward, looking out at a large dark mass on the highway ahead.

Alex braced the dash. “What is that?”

“It looks like . . . a trailer and—” Dread washed over me. “That’s the Explorer.” I sped up only to damn near slam on the brakes as we came up to the overturned car and the trailer.

“What happened?” Alex shouted, jumping out of the truck.

I grabbed my rifle and jumped out after him, running to the busted windshield and the crunched metal. Icy fear shot through me, and I gripped my gun so tightly the foregrip creaked in my hands. A few boxes and bins scattered the ground; the snack box with Thea’s smiley face sticker was dumped all over the road.

I stepped over the trailer hitch and hurried to the driver side. The door was open and drag marks overlapped footprints in the snow. The Explorer was empty.

“Where are they?” Alex ran his hand over his head and peered around the dark road and the surrounding forest. “What the hell were they doing out here?”

My mind spun as I tried to understand. It was too early in spring to pull the trailer, Elle knew that, yet she’d packed everything and headed northwest.

Alex stood a toppled gas can up. “They had extra fuel—do you think they were going to the meeting spot?”

“Yes, but something happened.” I peered around at the wreckage. And now they were gone and there were traces of blood in the snow where I stood.

“Elle!” I shouted, glancing into the tree line. She could’ve dragged herself into hiding, or the kids. “Elle!”

“Jackson,” Alex hissed from the front of the car.

I shined my flashlight down at the caribou tracks, there were several, and there was blood. A lot of blood. The pieces began to fall together. It was what happened after the accident that worried me.

I spotted snowmobile tracks a few yards out, barely illuminated by the Tacoma’s headlights, and my gut twisted. She hadn’t loaded the snowmobiles, and the tracks were fresh. “Alex, we have to find them,” I said low and calm. “Get your gun.”

38

Elle

April 12

When I woke, it took a split-second to remember where I was, but the instant I tried to move, it all came rushing back. The room was as it had been before, only this time, my boots and snow coat were at the foot of the bed, along with my gun in my hip holster.

I lifted myself up from the bed with my good arm, though it felt just as banged up as the other. I grumbled to my feet, wincing and irritated that I’d gotten myself into this mess, but eventually I was sitting up, trying not to breathe too quickly and too deeply, knowing it would hurt.

Standing, I reached into my back pocket, and I let out a breath of relief as I pulled out my sister’s note. It was folded in half, but still here.

The sound of silence will set you free. In the silence there I’ll be.

Though I’d read it a dozen times, chills raked over my skin as I read the second sentence. In the silence there I’ll be. Though I knew it was impossible, it seemed as if Jenny had known the end was coming, that maybe in some way, we’d find our way back to each other somehow. It was eerie to imagine her curled up on her couch writing it while death loomed in the future; it was a future in which the world was silent and all I had left of her were these words, making her more present in my life, dead, than she ever was alive.

I didn’t have the bandwidth to think about it; Jenny’s riddle would have to wait.

Painstakingly, I pulled my boots on over my socks, forgoing the laces since my wrist was still tight. Though Took had been right and sleep had made my mind a bit clearer, my chest was killing me. I winced with each movement and prayed bark salve wasn’t his only remedy. I knew subsistence living meant removal from society, forgoing the daily conveniences of modern day, but did that include absolutely everything?

I clipped on my hip holster, saw a clean thermal shirt, but stayed in my dirty clothes, torn sleeve and all. The sooner I could be functional again, the better, but clean clothes seemed too ambitious just yet.

Foregoing my jacket, since I didn’t need it anyway, I eyed a large folded cloth on the side table that would come in handy if I remembered what Jackson had taught me. I had a sneaking suspicion my generous hosts didn’t have pain killers readily available, and the pain could use a little numbing.

I took the cloth and made my way to the door, grateful my sprain and hurt rib were on the same side so I was partially operational.

Shockingly, the tingle in the tips of my fingers hadn’t returned since Slana, but I told myself it didn’t matter. I had plenty of problems to figure out without adding Sophie’s superpower theory to the mix.

The crisp evening air hit my face, sending chills over my skin, as I stepped outside. It felt refreshing after being cooped up inside, and I welcomed it in my lungs.

Using the porch rail, I lowered myself down to sit on the step as slowly as possible, careful not to make any sudden movements. I reached my good arm out and scooped up a handful of snow to wrap into an icepack. The idea had been well thought out in my head, but I could feel the sweat beading on my brow as I tried to fare the smarting pain that followed.

A dog yipped at the edge of the homestead, and I looked up to find I was being watched. A husky sat on the roof of his doghouse, his white and black-splotched head tilted to the left.

“I’d like to see you try it,” I muttered, pressing the cold pack against my side. I felt instant relief, though I wasn’t sure how long the ice would keep against my skin.

Letting the cold seep into my side, I peered up at the night sky. The moon was nearly full, lighting the path between the cabin I was in and the larger, main cabin. Took and Del had their own little compound here, an acre or so at least. What looked like an outhouse was set further into the trees, and a couple weatherworn sheds created a semi-circle around the perimeter. Pines and spruces sprinkled the property in between, and a truck was parked under an awning to my left.

As I trudged my way to the bigger cabin, I passed piles of wood stacked against the sides of each building, protected by more awnings that looked like they could use a little maintenance but served their purpose all the same. A narrow, aluminum-sided structure was nestled between the two outbuildings, and I could imagine the racks of meat hanging inside, in fact, I could smell them. There were no fences to speak of, but I assumed the dog served as their security guard.

I’d never met anyone who lived on the land the way these people clearly did, and as apprehensive as I was about it, it was comforting in a way, too.

I stopped at the porch where The Ranskins was carved over the cabin door. Pots and pans clanged inside, amidst the tittle-tattle of the kids. With a tummy full of butterflies, I lifted my hand, prepared to knock, but hesitated. Knocking seemed strange knowing the kids were inside. Slowly, I turned the handle and opened the wood door.

Heat immediately pressed against my face, dense in the confines of the house, and the savory scent of food filled my nostrils.

“—mix it with potatoes. Everything is better with potatoes, they absorb so much flavor.” An older woman, probably in her fifties with white hair knotted at the back of her neck, stood beside Sophie. The kitchen was just a nook in the far corner of the cabin, barely large enough for two people—but Jade didn’t seem to mind sharing. They stirred their respective pots at the two-burner wood stove, conversing easily, with their backs to me. They looked like they belonged there together—grandmother and granddaughter. There were two shelves with plates, cups, and cooking utensils; some of them looked metal, but they were mostly wood.

“Alex is the one that likes to cook the most,” Sophie told her.

I glanced up at the darkened loft above, then at the table where Beau and Took sat tying knots into a thin rope; then at Thea, curled up on what looked like a futon—small and functional for a mid-size cabin—flipping through the pages of a sketchbook twice as large as her lap. A large, soft-looking fur draped the back of the sofa, part of it covering Thea’s little legs. She noticed me first from her perch on the couch. “You’re awake!”

As everyone looked over, I closed the door behind me.

“Elle,” Sophie said, and the older woman’s eyes opened wide.

“Oh, dear me. I thought you were Del come back.” She laughed nervously and hurried over, wiping her hands off on the corner of her dirty, cream-colored apron. “Elle, dear, it’s nice to officially meet you.” The smile in her eyes was warm and welcoming, and I tried not to stare at the vertical lines tattooed from beneath her lip, down to her chin. “I’m Jade, and this is my father, Took.”

“We’ve met,” he grumbled.

“Don’t mind him,” Jade said, waving his gruffness away. “He’s harmless.”

I nodded, sensory overload making it difficult to focus while the noise and scents registered. “It’s nice to meet you.” I smiled to be polite, but I couldn’t help but wonder why they were being so kind. Either they hadn’t come across any crazy people or they simply didn’t care, and both were equally curious.

“We’re having dinner!” Thea clapped the sketchbook shut and scooted it to the side.

“Dinner, huh?” I tried to smile, but my gaze got away from me, sweeping the rest of the room, like I might find more answers.

Books were stacked beside the couch, snowshoes and walking sticks mounted on the walls. Baskets hung from hooks on the ceiling, using every space so that the place was practically full. And then I realized five faces were appraising me.

“It’s just about ready,” Jade said. “You must be starving. Why don’t you grab yourself a seat at the table there? My dad will help you—Dad, get Elle a chair, would you? Just move that laundry to the loft for now. I’ll worry about it later.”

“Uh, thank you, very much, but we really should be on our way.”

“Nonsense, where will you go? It’s dark and Del told me about the car.” She sighed regretfully. “Besides,” she said, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “You still need rest and Sophie has made enough potato soup to feed an army.” Jade smiled, winking at Sophie, like they’d known each other for years.

I glanced around at the kids, settled and entertained like they were visiting their grandparents for the evening. “You’ve already done so much, I don’t want to overstay our welcome. After dinner—”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all. The truth is, we don’t get visitors, and my son moved into town a couple years back. He comes around only a few times a year, though Del sees him regularly during the spring. That’s a long way of saying, I enjoy the company,” she finished, her smile broad and reassuring.

“Oh, okay,” I said dumbly. It was like I’d walked into the Wilderness Family and I was only a viewer.

“Elle! Come see the new knot I’m learning.” Beau waved me over. “Look.” He held it up. “This one’s hard.”

“It looks really hard. What’s it called?”

“It’s a Car—” He looked at Took.

“Carrick Bend—”

“Carrick Bend,” Beau echoed, chest out and proud. “It’s a cargo net, sort of like the one you made.”

“It’s better than the one I made,” I muttered. “It will be really useful. You’ll have to show me later.”

“I don’t know if I can, but I’ll try.”

“Let’s clean this up before Jade has a conniption,” Took mumbled, gathering the thin rope into his hand.

Beau frowned. “A what?”

Took glanced from Jade who was oblivious to his mutterings, then back to Beau. “Nothing.” So, Took was ornery and not just with me. I liked it.

“Look.” Thea grunted as she lifted the sketchbook, it teetered in her hands as she strained to hold it out to me. “Wow,” I breathed, and noticed a large J at the bottom of the sketch.

“Jade did them,” Thea explained. She stretched her legs out, barely able to rest her feet on a giant tree stump that served as the coffee table. “No feet,” I whispered with a frantic glance toward Jade.

Thea looked sheepishly at Jade, who was busy unstacking bowls for Sophie, and let her feet fall.

“Dinner’s ready!” Jade announced. “Everyone grab a seat at the table. Sophie and I can take the couch.”

I claimed the chair Took set out for me and anxiously waited for a steaming bowl of potato and leek soup, I could see the root ends discarded in a basket on the floor by the sink. I’d never had it before, but my mouth watered for it all the same. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.

“Did everyone wash their hands?” Jade draped a rag over her shoulder.

“Yes,” Beau, Thea, and Took said in unison.

“Oh,” I said, glancing at my gloved fingers. “I didn’t.”

Jade waved my concern away and grabbed a ladle from the utensil bin. “You didn’t have a compost fight today, like some people.” She waved the spoon at Took.

“What?” he grumbled. “It was for the kids. They had fun.”

“Hmm. Sure.” Despite her reprimand, she seemed happy to have all of us around, which made it feel like we were less of an inconvenience as I took some time to figure things out.

“Dad?” Jade said, handing Sophie the ladle to finish dishing up the soup. She walked over to the window and peered out at the dark sky. “Del should’ve been back by now. Will you see if he’s out in the shed and bring him in for dinner?”

“Don’t let anyone take my seat,” Took told Beau, and he slid out of his wooden chair with a grunt and reached for his jacket on an iron hook by the door.

“I won’t.” Cold air fanned through the room as Took opened and then shut the door.

Jade sat a bowl of soup in front of me. “My husband gets so caught up dressing the meat after hunting, he loses track of time. Always. He’d likely be out there all night, the best cuts strung and hung up before morning.”

The caribou, I remembered. Del had gone to salvage the meat. “Did he find them, then?” I asked.

“One died,” Sophie said, setting a stack of napkins to the table. “He went for the others though.” She inched my bowl closer to me. “Don’t be scared,” she said with a sly grin.

“Yeah, yeah. I didn’t help with it, so it’s edible.” I knew the schtick. With feigned annoyance, I shook my head at her.

“You like to cook?” Jade asked me, and I nearly laughed.

“I like to, but apparently I shouldn’t,” I told her.

Jade’s smile widened as she set another bowl on the table for Took. “It only takes a little practice,” she said.

Shutting my eyes, I inhaled the scent of onion and pepper, and every other good thing inside. “It smells amazing.”

Sophie set a bowl in front of Beau and he leaned closer to smell it. “Is it fish again?”

“It’s potatoes and leeks,” Sophie told him. “And yes, there’s fish, so hush.” She nudged his shoulder with a warning glare and walked back over to the stove.

Finally, after soup was served and water glasses were filled, Sophie sat down on the futon with her soup. “It smells okay,” Sophie said, clearly surprised, and a little relieved.

“It’s heavenly,” I told her, swallowing my first bite. It left a garlicky singe on my tongue. “Hot but heavenly.”

“It’s Dad’s favorite,” Jade said and pulled her apron off over her head. “Though he’d never admit it.”

Jade walked over to the window, peering out at the darkness.

“What about you, Jade?” I asked. “Are you going to eat?”

“Yes, but I’ll wait for Dad and Del to come in.” She waved for me to eat. “Go on, no sense in it getting cold.”

Though I felt bad eating without her, I was too ravenous to argue and took another bite. I could see why the kids were so at ease here; Jade made it easy to relax and feel welcome. So much so, I momentarily forgot the guys would be looking for us come tomorrow morning. As I sat there examining every part of their modest home, I envied their little piece of wilderness. I knew it was endless work, but it was theirs.

Jade rubbed her arms and pulled the drapes closed. “I think it’s time to replace the window.” She smiled and finally sat down on the futon by Sophie. “As much as we try to live on our own, I’m getting too old to be cold all the time.” She smiled, a kindness exuding from her that made me feel like I’d known her longer than mere minutes.

I swallowed another spoonful of soup and shut my eyes.

“Well, Beau, you’re my greatest critic. Tell me, how do you like it?” Jade asked, sidling up next to him. Her eyes widened at his half-empty bowl.

“It’s good I guess,” he said.

Jade rumpled his hair and chuckled. “Good then. Now Sophie can make it for you.”

“If I can remember.” Sophie glanced at me. “Maybe I should’ve been writing this down.”

Jade waved her uncertainty away. “I’ll get you the recipe before you leave. Sarah, Jet’s wife—that’s my son—she caught on quick though, you might not even need it. Last I heard she’d even spruced it up, and it’s one of Jet’s favorite dinners.”

“Where did you say they lived?” I asked.

“Delta Junction, it’s a few hours away.” She sighed. “I know it’s not far, but when you don’t get out much, it seems like the other side of the country.” She sat on the couch and crossed her legs. “He moved there probably five years ago now. He met Sarah in town, and they fell in love. She’s a good girl, and they have a lot of things in common, but subsistence living isn’t one. Her father’s got a welding shop in Junction, so that’s where they settled.”

She stared down at her fingers, turning the band around and around on her finger. She clearly missed her son, and like Jackson survived his wife and child, I couldn’t imagine how hard it must’ve been for Jade to lose Jet.

She cleared her throat. “He doesn’t get out here much to see us anymore.”

I swallowed another spoonful and licked my lips. “So, he survived then?” Del, Took, Jade, and her son? While it was beyond fortunate for her, it seemed startlingly unfair in the scheme of things when I thought about all four kids and the parents they’d lost.

Jade’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry?”

“He survived the outbreak,” I clarified. “You said he doesn’t get out here much anymore.”

But the lines in Jade’s brow furrowed deeper, transforming her entire face from one of openness to desperate concern. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

I looked at Sophie who seemed as confused as I was. “From the virus outbreak,” Sophie said.

I shook my head. “We’d just assumed—”

“Assumed what?” Jade said. Her question teetered the sharp edge of panic.

“I told her about the men at the house—that we were attacked,” Sophie said, frantic. Her eyes shimmered and her cheeks reddened. “But I didn’t bother to mention . . .” What they were capable of or how. And why would she have? It seemed impossible that Jade didn’t know about the outbreak.

I swallowed a thick, suddenly nauseating mouthful of soup, uncertain what to say next. “Last December,” I started as calmly as I could, “the H1N1/12 virus that ravaged the lower forty-eight before it made its way here . . . People got very sick.”

Faintly, in a thought I pushed as far away as I possibly could, I began to worry Jade was crazy, and I’d made a dire mistake in letting us stay here. “We’ve all lost our families,” I told her, measuring her every move as her eyes searched our faces.

Jade’s uncertainty hardened, her gaze darting between the kids and me. “Is this a cruel joke?” she rasped, and there was no mistaking the distress in her voice. She wasn’t crazy—she was clueless.

My heart hammered with uncertainty, and I paled. “We would never joke about this.” I dropped my spoon into my bowl and faced her fully. “We were all sick,” I told her, hoping that something might register in the gray depths of her eyes. “We all lost our families. We were strangers four months ago.”

Jade scooted to the edge of the futon, searching our faces for the truth. Beau and Thea—all of us—stared at her, just as perplexed as she was.

“You don’t get visitors,” I breathed. It was a realization I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought about until now. Being holed up here all winter, they had no reason to go anywhere. Incredibly, they didn’t know about the virus at all, and miraculously they’d never been infected. With no television and no visitors, how could they have known?

My mind ticked through the possibilities of what that meant exactly. How many others like them were there? What did that mean for their physiology, and how did that play into Sophie’s theory? Most importantly, were we contagious to them? I nearly choked on the thought, and the dread whitening Jade’s face was enough to send everything I’d consumed back up again. There was a more delicate way to explain what had happened, but it was too late.

“Jade,” I rasped. “When was the last time you saw your son?”

Her brow lifted and her eyes widened. “What?” She stood up as the panic set in. Her chest rose and fell, and she clasped her hand around the base of her throat like she was trying to hold back a scream. I could imagine the lump moving up her throat and the racing of her heart in her ears as she felt the weight of my words and thought of her son. It was how I’d felt when I thought I would die. It was how I’d felt when I thought my sister would die. It was how I’d felt many times since.

She hurried to the door and reached for her jacket. “Del!” she shouted, flinging it open. She stopped on the porch, unmoving.

“Jade!” I lunged to my feet, pain biting through me, but it didn’t matter. If I’d given her a heart attack, I could never forgive myself. Wincing, I hurried out the door after her. “Jade, I’m so sorry—”

Del stood in his coat with his rifle in one hand, pulling a sled loaded with frozen meat behind him, like he was only just coming home.

“Where the hell were you?” Took complained as he came out of the shed across the yard, stomping his way across the snow. “I thought maybe you’d snuck off for a cigar without me—”

An engine rumbled in the woods behind us, and I turned around to see the snow plow jostling back and forth as the Tacoma rolled to a stop beside the cabin.

“I think I found your friends,” Del said, meeting my gaze. “I should say they found me.”

39

Jackson

April 12

Del had told us Elle and the kids would be here, and while I strangely thought I could trust him—I needed to if we had any hope of finding them—I was reluctant. Crazy people went to great measures to get what they wanted, they’d proven that time after time. Somehow, I thought Del was different though, and the instant I saw the smoke from the cabin chimney, I instinctively knew he was.

Alex jumped out of the truck before I’d brought it to a stop outside the settlement. I reached for the door handle as an older woman hurried, almost frantic, from the porch to Del. When I noticed Elle, standing just outside the doorway, it gave me pause.

Del had been telling the truth. She was alive like he had promised, looking at me. Her gaze was as expressive as always, wild and wide and shimmering. She chewed on her bottom lip—like she sometimes did when she was lost in her darkest thoughts—and I hated myself for not being there to protect her and the kids. The scratch on her cheek was an angry, taunting gash. Her ponytail was crooked and her long-sleeve shirt was torn, but she was standing there in one piece, practically glowing as the light spilled through the doorway behind her.

Letting out a ragged breath, I scrubbed my hands over my face, braced myself for whatever came next, and flung the door open as the fear finally subsided.

The instant I stepped out of the truck, Elle came closer and began to sob. “Jackson, I almost killed them,” she cried. “I almost killed the kids. I’m so sorry—”

“Shh. You guys are okay.” I wrapped my arms around her, feeling her flinch. As I let go, she gazed into my eyes and searched my face for only a second before grabbing desperately onto my jacket—balling it up in her fist—and she cried.

She was warm and solid, a fireball nestled against my chest, and a sense of calm came over me in a way I’d never felt before. The tension eased from my shoulders and I rested my cheek against her head.

“I knew we had to get out of there,” she said in a rush. “I knew they would come back if we stayed, but the caribou—I didn’t see the caribou . . .” Her words choked away as she tried to catch her breath, and like a bullet casing dislodged from its chamber, my calm spiked to a stomach-churning dread.

I looked down at her. “Who would come back?”

Elle blinked and swallowed, then she pulled away. Her wet eyes were shadowed and tired. “You didn’t go to the house?”

Slana? Hesitant, I shook my head.

Elle stumbled backward. The relief in her eyes was gone. Her expression drawn and her chest heaving.

Why was she pulling away? “What happened, Elle?” I took a step closer, desperate to know what she wasn’t saying.

“There were men,” she said. “Three men who came. We’re fine and they’re dead, but”—she shook her head—“they said there were others. So, we left.”

Breath wouldn’t come quick enough and the implication of her words fell over me with a wave of hair-raising unease. “What men, Elle?” I took a step closer. “What did they do?”

She shook her head and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Nothing,” she said, reluctant. I waited impatiently for her to continue. “Jackson, we’re fine. Sophie and I shot them. You’d be proud of her, actually.” She said it lightly, but those tears were not for nothing. There was something she wasn’t telling me. “They didn’t hurt us,” she reiterated, but her eyes shimmered as she stepped closer, searching mine as if she struggled for the right words. “But they were dangerous, Jackson. They could do things—”

“—have to check on him!” Del’s wife shrieked, staring up at him, and her hands flailed in desperation. “We have to know!”

Elle wiped the tears from her cheeks. “They have a son in Delta Junction,” she explained. “And they didn’t know about the outbreak, until now.”

“What?” I looked at the old man standing in the doorway, peering out at the couple as Del pulled his wife into his arms. “How could they not—” But I already knew the answer. They’d carved themselves a place so self-sufficient they were cut off from the world, and the turmoil that came with it. Like our world had fallen apart months ago, theirs was only beginning to crumble.

After all they’d done for Elle and the kids, I took a step forward. “I’ll take you to Delta Junction,” I told them, glancing at Alex and the kids huddled in the doorway. “We just came back from there.” They didn’t know what they were up against, and after what had happened to Elle and the kids in Slana—whatever it might’ve been—I wouldn’t let Del take any chances.

The man and woman looked at me. Tears filled her eyes and worry creased his brow.

“You helped my family, I’ll do what I can to help yours.”

40

Jackson

April 12

Alex, Del, and I drove nearly the whole way in silence. It felt necessary after we’d dropped a bomb on them, potentially shattering their world. Del’s attention was fixed on the long stretch of white that covered the road, lit only by the headlights of his old, clunky Dodge. We’d already plowed a path, which helped us make decent time.

Although I’d offered to drive, Del had needed to do this on his terms and in his own way. I’d thought about bringing two vehicles in case we needed room for one more, but I knew it was unlikely, and false hope wouldn’t do Del or his wife any favors.

In the silence, my mind turned Elle’s words over and over. There’d been a lot going on, a flood of high emotions and urgency as we loaded up to leave again. But what Elle had told me was enough to make the apprehension I’d already felt triple, and Slana had become a looming question mark I needed to know more about, though I feared the answers even more.

“They’re not just crazy anymore, Jackson. They can do . . . unnatural things.”

Yet when I’d asked her what they could do, she wasn’t entirely certain.

“One of them said he could smell our fear, but I—I don’t know about the others.”

It was the way she’d grabbed my arm as I turned for the truck, the way she’d refused to let go until I acknowledged the heaviness of her words, that stayed with me most.

“You have to be careful.”

I was certain Elle knew what she’d heard, but in the height of the moment and as crazy as the men clearly were, it could’ve been a group of sick fucks taunting her and the kids because they could. What weighed on me the most were the tire tracks we’d left behind for them to follow to begin with. I’d led the men right to the shop and respectively to the house, and I hadn’t been there to protect the four of them. It gave me some comfort to know that Elle and Sophie didn’t need my protection, but not enough.

Del grabbed the empty can from the cup holder attached to his dash and spit into it. He was like an old cowboy, but instead of living out west he was here, in the wooded mountains of the arctic.

“Birch bark,” he explained, and looked at me sideways. “I chew when I’m restless. You want any?”

I knew birch wood and spruce gum were used a lot in the wildlands but seeing it used as a replacement for chewing tobacco was a first. I shook my head. “Thanks though.”

“Suit yourself.”

Alex dozed in the center seat, his head lulling back in exhaustion. I didn’t blame him. Part of my mind longed for a glimpse of sleep, but I knew it was a long time coming yet. It felt more like a week had passed rather than a single day, and I’d been feeling the effects for hours now.

I stretched my legs out as much as I could, trying not to get too comfortable in the truck’s warmth.

“So,” Del said, clearing his voice. It was rough from disuse and maybe a little apprehensive. “The whole world, huh?”

“All of it.” It still sounded fictional, saying it out loud.

“What else do I need to know about it?”

How did one explain the downfall of humanity on a global scale and the aftermath that followed, when all that likely mattered to this man was finding his son? “It mimicked the flu, or maybe it was the flu”—I shook my head—“I don’t know. But, there was a rumor it was a government experiment gone wrong, and another that it was some ancient virus unearthed by climate change. If that’d been the case, I doubt the biggest outbreak would’ve been in New York so early on.”

“There was never any explanation then?”

“Not yet.” There was no one left to figure it out, which stirred deeper concerns the more I thought about it. “It was too late by the time they realized how bad it really was.” I remembered the first day I’d heard about it on the news, and all I could do was shake my head, grateful we were in the middle of nowhere and not some metropolis. A lot of good it did us. “So much for innovation in the twenty-first century. Science couldn’t even save us.”

Del glanced at me. “Maybe that’s what caused it.”

Damn. He was probably right. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“At least your family survived, it sounds like that’s more than most can say. How did you manage that? Did you have a bunker?”

“No, I’m not a prepper. And I did lose my family—my father, my daughter, and my wife.”

Saying it out loud for the first time was like sticking a dull blade through my heart and cutting me through. The hurt hadn’t gone away even if it had become easier to push away.

“I should prepare myself for the worst, is what you’re telling me?”

His son was either dead or alive, and if he were the latter, he would not be the same person Del remembered. If he had been, he would’ve come home. “If Jet is alive, he’ll be different. You should prepare yourself for that.”

The truck bounced over the uneven snow, and Alex swayed in his seat beside me.

“Del,” I started, fearing my concern had come too late. “We haven’t met people like you before, people who never had the virus. While I assume it’s come and gone like the fever, having run its course, I don’t—”

“Know if you’re contagious?” he asked. There was no censure in his voice and no fear, like he’d already thought it through.

I nodded.

“If you are, it’s already too late,” he said. “And if we find Jet and bring him home, well, we might get infected that way too. I’m not sure there’s a way around it at this point. There’s no sense in dwelling on it.”

In a way he was right, there was nothing we could do now. The kids had settled into their home, and Took, at least, had touched Elle’s blood while dressing her wounds. I ran my hands over my face, rubbing the feeling back into my skin as numbness to all of this set it.

The outbreak had transformed the world—I could feel it in the silence, a void unlike anything I’d ever experienced. The more I thought about what Alex had said, the more I realized he was right. You could feel a charge around survivors—an energy—if you stopped to notice it. You could practically feel what was coming, good or bad.

“It makes sense,” Del said. “Elle not being their mother,” he clarified. “I thought she looked too young, but you never know these days.”

“She found them in Whitely when she was looking for her sister. They all lost their parents.”

“It was good of you to take them in.”

“That was all Elle,” I told him.

Del looked at me then peered out at the passing Delta Junction sign on the highway. Slow driving made for a long night, especially with uncertainty as to what awaited us, but we were close, and I hoped whatever we found gave the Ranskins some sort of peace.

“You know,” he said. “When I first met Jet, he was a punk kid who was giving his mama a rough time. I knew it was because his father never treated him right, always drunk and belligerent, but I liked to think he was a decent kid under all the hurt.”

“I didn’t realize he wasn’t your son.”

“Oh, he is. That’s how it works, you know? They wiggle their way into your life. It starts with seeing a spark in them you haven’t noticed before, and maybe no one else has either. You see something that makes you want to work for it and somehow you build a friendship and a bond you never expected. Jet was never my son by blood, but we were closer than he ever was with his birth father.”

Unexpectedly, I became acutely aware of Alex sleeping in the seat next to me. In my thirty years, I’d swayed between wanting children and not. Hannah changed all of that, and yet even now that she was gone, I could still imagine a relationship close to that of a father and son with Alex, which scared the shit out of me.

I looked at Del. “Were you a family friend or something?”

“I was Hank’s best friend, and I watched the way he treated his family, maybe I even felt a little guilty for not stepping into their turmoil more while he was alive. But Jade has always been a good woman, and deserved someone to cherish her and her kid, and after twenty-three years . . .”

Del turned at the exit sign and onto the main road, passing the high school Alex and I had scavenged only hours ago. “Sometimes families have a way of forming, even if we don’t think we need or want them.”

The kids, Elle, and I had never planned on staying together; it was something we agreed early on. But I knew saying goodbye would be challenging, it was part of the reason I’d wanted to stay detached for so long. But growing closer or not, Hartley wasn’t the place for me, I could feel it in my bones. “Elle and the kids are going to Hartley Bay,” I told him. “There’s a safe zone there, with a community for the kids, and safety . . . It will be the best place for them.”

Del looked at me as he turned down a side street. “Will it?”

Scratching my jaw, I stared out the window. As we drew closer to the buildings and neighborhoods, I nudged Alex awake.

“You should park out here,” I told Del. “Before we get too far into the populated areas.”

“Why? We’re still a good mile away from Jet’s place.”

“If anyone is here, we don’t want them to know we’re coming. Trust me.” While Alex and I had already swept parts of the town, that didn’t mean there weren’t survivors somewhere, and after Elle’s concern, we couldn’t be too careful.

Del’s face was expressionless, but fear was a black glimmer in his eyes, illuminated by the truck’s dimly lit interior. He nodded, and drove a bit further up the road before pulling over under the cover of an empty carport.

I took my fleece cap off and ran my fingers through my hair. I wasn’t sure I was ready for whatever we would find, let alone what Del would have to go through, but it was inevitable. And in a way, I knew Del was lucky to be with us instead of stumbling into the unknown completely blindsided.

“We go in on foot, take our weapons, and stay out of sight as much as we can,” I told him and glanced at Alex. He already knew the drill.

With a nod from Del, I got out of the truck, Alex sliding out behind me, and we wrapped ourselves as best we could against the midnight cold.

When Del was ready, the three of us made our way into town against wind that felt more like razor blades. We didn’t talk or stop for a break. We stuck to the shadows and paused every now and again to watch for movement or lights in windows, and to see if any smoke billowed from chimneys. We listened for sounds that carried in the increasing wind, but other than Mother Nature’s nighttime fury, the coast was clear.

There was barely enough moonlight to see as it disappeared behind the clouds, but we made do; only using our flashlights when we needed to. Cars were partially buried in snow, some of them abandoned in the middle of the street—the passengers, human icicles inside—but Del didn’t stop to look, and neither did we.

Homes and businesses had icicles hanging from the eaves, and not a person stirred as we made our way down a side street into a sparsely established neighborhood. It didn’t look like one might expect—like a city that had been looted in the aftermath of the outbreak. Instead, it felt like the small town was only sleeping, under a dark and dangerous spell.

Del stopped at the street corner and peered around, not panicked like he was looking for something, but like he was taking it all in. Del was seeing the world as it was for the first time, and I could imagine the reality of it all settling in. If he couldn’t quite grasp what I’d been telling him before, he understood it now.

He tugged his neck gaiter down to speak. “It’s the last one on the right,” he said into the wind, pointing down the street. He pulled his face protection up again and led the way.

Alert with our weapons in hand, we made our way down the abandoned street. Alex was cautious but walked with confidence. He held his gun like he’d been on a rescue mission a dozen times before. It was a welcomed reminder he would do well once I was gone.

When we reached Jet’s house, an old 4Runner was parked in the side driveway, nearly covered in snow that slid from the rooftop. The 4Runner hadn’t moved in months, and like the other houses we’d passed, the drapes were drawn and everything appeared dark inside.

Del tried to turn the front door handle first, but it was locked. “I don’t know where he keeps his spare key,” he admitted.

“We’ll find a way in,” Alex said, and he headed around to the back of the house, Del and I following behind him.

Del knocked on the sliding glass door and peered inside, through the open blinds into the darkness. No candles flickered and Jet never came, and soon my unease turned from apprehension about what we might find to a sadness that seemed to settle over all of us.

Alex gabbed a shovel leaning up against the side of the house and offered it to Del. It would be the only way in, Del knew that much.

There was a thunk and a crash as the glass fell inside onto the linoleum floor. “Jet? Son, are you in here?” Del stepped through the glass and Alex lifted his rifle as he walked in behind him. My eyes shifted around the backyard, wondering if neighbors or anyone lurking nearby might’ve heard us. The wind was loud enough to muffle the sound and arrowlike spruces surrounded the whole backyard, encapsulating it in a winter wonderland that showed no signs of melting anytime soon.

Glock in my hand, I followed them inside, bracing myself for whatever Del would find next.

“Son?” Del’s hunting rifle hung at his side as we swept the galley kitchen with our flashlights; followed by the adjacent living room, which looked forgotten.

Resigned, Del made his way down the narrow hallway, passing a bathroom that had a pile of towels and clothes on the floor, and toward a bedroom.

The air was frigid, like the ice itself had seeped inside and clung to the walls, and my breath was a white puff in the darkness.

Del stopped in the bedroom doorway, and Alex and I hung back, giving him all the space we could. A few breaths passed before Del stepped into the room, and reluctantly, I crept forward to ensure the room was clear. It was, save for a bearded man tucked into his bed, like he’d fallen into a frozen sleep, and the mound covered in a sheet beside him.

Del stood at the bedside, staring down at him. “He was lucky then,” he croaked. Del crouched down, hesitantly resting his hand over Jet’s, and I backed out of the room, leaving him with his grief.

A quiet Inuit prayer I’d heard only once reached my ears as I headed down the hallway, toward the back door. As the words rolled off of Del’s tongue, they soothed old wounds and stung others still too raw, and I was grateful Alex didn’t follow me.

Del’s son had died peacefully in his sleep, but Hannah’s final hours were more gruesome than that. I tried not to think of her terror as her murderer pointed a gun at her after she’d fought so hard to save herself, and I tried not to think about her pain as she bled out, or the heartbreak she felt knowing her daughter was dying. I tried not to remember either of them the way they were the day I put them in the ground, but it was impossible, and while Del mourned his son, I mourned my family. I mourned the mother I’d missed most of my life, wishing she were still here to offer words of wisdom when I needed them most. But she was gone, they all were, and I felt the loss as keenly as ever.

I let my sorrow consume me as I stepped out into the cold, bleak night. When we returned to Jade and the others, we’d put on a brave face and be strong again.

41

Elle

April 13

Sophie, Thea, and Beau were asleep on the same bed I’d woken up on earlier, swathed by the heat of the fire burning in the stove and the blankets tangled between them.

The guys had been gone for nearly six hours and still hadn’t returned. I’d offered to wait up with Jade, but she insisted I retire to the cabin with the kids. Granting her privacy while she waited in a state of grief and aching uncertainty was the least I could do. I’d upturned her world in a single, thoughtless sentence: “So, he survived then?” The answer, I assumed, was no.

But the hours felt like an eternity, one impossible to sleep through despite how many times I commanded myself to close my eyes and count sheep instead of regrets. My body ached with exhaustion and my mind was heavy, but none of it mattered. Jackson hadn’t known about Slana when he’d arrived, which meant he didn’t know what I had done to the man in the hallway.

From my pallet of sleeping bags on the floor, I stared up at the wood-slatted ceiling. It hurt to breathe, and it wasn’t only because of my sore body. I’d prepared myself for the probability that Jackson would come to make sure we were okay, because that’s the kind of man he was, and then he would leave barely able to look at me for what I’d done. The fire was something that might frighten him but it was out of my control, the lie, however, was a betrayal no one would easily forgive.

When he’d stepped out of the truck, I’d braced myself for coldness and anger, but the worry in his eyes, the fear on his face . . . I’d thought for a flickering moment he didn’t care about any of it as long as we were okay.

But he hadn’t even known. Any of it.

Whatever I felt in that knowledge wasn’t relief. If anything, the weight of my secrets now felt heavier and graver. He had been relieved to see someone he only thought he knew.

I looked at the kids, bathed in the soft glow cast through the door of the stove. Sophie’s brow was lined with discomfort as she dreamed and I wondered if it was my haunting memories she saw tonight or someone else’s. I needed to help her. And I had to tell Jackson what was happening to me and to Sophie. And I had to tell him what I’d done to his father.

With my better arm, I manhandled the pillows underneath my head, trying to prop myself up more, when I heard Del’s truck coming toward the house. A flutter of nerves followed. The truck doors shut and the tailgate squeaked open, and after a few minutes of murmurs, I heard the tailgate slam closed. They’d found Jet, apparently, and it didn’t seem like he’d made it.

I squeezed my eyes shut and my heart broke for Jade. She’d been so kind to us, and what had been open smiles and warmth today would be sadness in the morning.

The cabin door creaked open and cold air whizzed into the room. Jackson’s heavy footsteps preceded his shadow, followed by Alex’s, and then they shut the door quietly behind them. It felt as if the air was being sucked from the room and my heartbeat trembled with the urge to blurt the truth, though I thought it better to pretend I was asleep.

I glanced up at their darkened forms. “The folding cot is for you, Alex,” I whispered. Apparently my decision was to do neither. “And your bag is next to Sophie’s at the foot of the bed.”

He nodded and mouthed a thank you.

Closing my eyes, I draped my arm over my face to give him a modicum of privacy.

With no downstairs couch to sleep on or separate room to remove himself to, I wondered if Jackson would lie on the pallet beside me, or if he’d disappear somewhere, like he usually did when he wanted time to himself.

Alex rustled into his nightclothes. A strong gust of wind wracked the side of the cabin, making it creak. I wasn’t cold, but the impending what next was a deep-rooted chill, and I pulled the blankets up higher around my neck. When I heard the squeak of the cot, I opened my eyes. Alex was settling in beneath a blanket, facing the wall.

Jackson crouched beside the woodstove, warming his hands. He looked at the kids then down at me.

“They’re zonked,” I reassured him.

He turned the handle and opened the stove. I could feel the distance, thick and gravid between us, even if he crouched only inches from me. “You should rest,” he said, and reached for another log to throw on the dying flames. “The sun will be up soon, and we need to gather our things from the Explorer.”

“I know,” I told him, wishing he’d take his own advice and let his mind rest for once. “But, I need to talk to you about something.” Now wasn’t the time, there would never be a good time. But he needed to know.

“Elle,” he said. My name was a heavy, quiet breath. “Can it wait until tomorrow?” I could only imagine what they’d found in Delta Junction, but the toll it took on him was palpable.

“Of course,” I whispered.

Jackson closed the stove and brushed his hands off on his pants as he stood up. He removed his hat and jacket, and cold air wafted off of him, carrying with it a scent I recognized as his own. Wood smoke, earth, and whatever it was about him that made him formidable-stoic-alluring-Jackson. He removed his boots and stretched out on the pallet beside me.

“How’s Del?” I asked. I knew he was grieving, but it was one thing to mourn someone you love and another to find their dead body.

“Grateful it wasn’t worse, I think.” Jackson’s voice was soft despite its deepness, and he pulled a sleeping bag half over him, like being warm was only an afterthought. His clothes rustled. Our shoulders touched, but barely as he ran his hand over his beard. Finally, he let out a deep breath. “Don’t let the kids go into the garden shed, okay?”

I turned my head to look at him, watching the way his eyelashes fluttered with each thoughtful blink. “Okay.”

Jackson met my gaze. In the silence, I could almost feel it, hot and prying me open, searching for something, even if I wasn’t sure what.

I swallowed, and his eyes shifted down to my mouth and neck, then he looked away. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispered.

“I’m glad you’re okay too.” Tears blurred my eyes. I wanted to say everything and nothing at the same time because tomorrow everything would change. But within moments his breaths slowed and deepened, and Jackson fell asleep.

42

Jackson

April 13

While Jade prepared her son’s body for burial, the five of us, minus injured Elle, made our way out to the overturned Explorer and trailer on the highway. Not only did we need to gather our things and inventory what we’d lost, but we needed to get the trailer off the road and out of sight from unwanted eyes. If what the Slana visitors had said was true, and there were more men somewhere close by, we didn’t want them to find us, or the Ranskins, and we’d made it easy with all the tire tracks in the snow.

Alex and Sophie manned Del’s snowmobile, pulling an empty sled behind them, and I drove Thea and Beau in the Tacoma.

“Do you think someone took our stuff?” Thea asked, sitting straight and alert in the back seat. Her little head shifted back and forth as she glanced between the windshield and the passenger window.

“Who would take our stuff?” Beau quipped, throwing his hands up like he couldn’t believe she was even thinking it.

“Wolves,” Thea retorted. “They could take our food.”

“That’s true,” I told them. “If any animals smelled the food in the bins, they might have figured out how to open them. The food may be gone.”

Thea’s eyes flashed wider. “What will we eat then?”

“We’ll find more,” I told her. That was the least of our problems right now. While grocery stores weren’t exactly accessible out here, whatever stores we found would likely be stocked with enough food to tide us over. It was finding another weatherproofed, working vehicle that had been on my mind. With Elle injured, things would progress more slowly than usual.

I’d always known she’d done a lot managing the kids, but in the time it took to give herself a sponge bath and change clothes with her one good hand, Sophie, Alex, and I got the kids their breakfast, dressed, and out the door so that Del, Jade, and Took could deal with their family business.

Besides gathering our things and restocking the supplies we were missing, we needed to find another vehicle large enough for five that could also carry most of our necessities, before we overstayed our welcome.

Elle was in pain. We could all see it plainly on her face, even if she thought she could hide it. And, with everything there was to do in the shortest amount of time possible, the next day or two would be arduous. Assuming we even had that long. At any minute the Ranskins might decide their generosity had run its course, and it was time for us to leave.

“Are we going to have a funeral?” Thea asked. She was full of questions. That was her thing, I realized. Thea didn’t care what was happening as long as she could play in puddles and ask as many questions as she wanted. She was curious and Beau was a thinker. Beau liked to roll his eyes and be part of the big-kid action. He was observant, and I often wondered what gears were turning in that little head of his. I didn’t have to wonder with Thea. Ever.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” I glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

“The funeral . . .” she reminded me.

“Yes, there will be a ceremony for Jet,” I told her. “Later this afternoon, after the sun goes down.”

“Did someone kill him?” Thea asked quietly. Worried. Sad. Her mind went there first, which was a reminder of how much these kids had seen. They related the world to violence now, and the trooper inside me felt like I’d failed them in some way.

“No one killed him,” I said softly. “He died peacefully in his sleep.”

“From the fever?”

I nodded.

She was quiet and introspective for a few breaths, like her brother, then asked, “Why didn’t we die?”

Both Beau and Thea looked at me, curiosity widening their eyes. I’d seen it before when they asked if we were their new parents. I had let Elle take that one and buried myself in a bottle of bourbon. We definitely weren’t their parents and never could be, but without a better adult figure, it was up to me to explain things to them the best I could, even if I didn’t have all the answers.

“I don’t know,” I told her. I thought of the science book I’d brought back for Sophie, making a mental note to give it to her once we were back at the cabin. If Sophie could come up with even a general hypothesis, it would be something to help us make sense of things. For now, the truth was like a gray fog over a bridge we had been forced to cross, uncertain what had happened between one end and the other.

“I’m sorry, Thea. I don’t know why some of us died and some of us lived.”

“We’re just lucky,” she told me, and her words gave me pause.

Were we lucky? The past four months had been tough, straight up misery at times, and the past couple days had been a torrential shitshow. But we were alive and somewhere safe. We’d found each other, which felt like a miracle. “Yeah,” I decided. “We are lucky.”

I brought the truck to a stop a few yards shy of the Explorer and looked at the kids. “All right, ready for Operation Clean Up?”

Thea and Beau lifted two canvas bags each to fill with whatever they could. “Yep!”

“Be careful of . . .”

“Broken glass,” they said in unison.

“And?”

“If we find your popcorn, make sure we give it to you, not Elle,” Beau muttered.

“You got it. Let’s load up what we can.”

Alex brought the snowmobile to a stop beside the truck and he and Sophie climbed off.

“Got it?” I asked, turning in my seat as Thea struggled with the door handle.

She grunted in reply, and Beau, ever the older brother, reached across to help her open it, then they both jumped out of the truck.

I opened the driver side door and watched as the kids ran over to Sophie and Alex.

“Okay,” Sophie said and clapped her gloved hands together. “Ready? We’re going to see who can gather the most food and supplies first. Winner gets some of my Skittles.”

Sophie was clearly feeling better than last I saw her in Slana. I wasn’t sure if it was the near-death experience, or the fact that she’d proven to herself she could shoot someone if she needed to, but she seemed less cagey, even if she still kept her distance. I still knew little about the Slana story, and what had happened with the men. But I had a sickening suspicion that’s what Elle wanted to talk about last night. Her face had said it all, and I was scared. I didn’t want to hear what those men had done; I didn’t want to feel worse than I already did for leading them right to the front door, even if I knew she’d gotten the kids out safely.

I climbed out of the truck and shut the door, rifle in hand. The cold air was always welcome, especially in the morning, and I took a deep breath. The sun was out, the sky was clear, and I was glad to know we’d at least have a beautiful day to get a lot done.

Scanning the tree line and the road for anything amiss, I made my way around the perimeter. I wanted to find out which critters had been in our backyard overnight, and if it was only the animal kingdom I needed to worry about.

I followed the patterns in the snow, noting the ptarmigan and fox prints, as well as a tattered bag of bread a dozen feet from the crash site. If frozen Wonder Bread had been the only casualty, I was okay with that.

The caribou prints were still fresh, as was the snowmobile path from Del’s impromptu hunting after the accident. Other than tire tracks I felt safe assuming were from the Dodge and Tacoma, it appeared no one else had been on the road, which was one less thing I had to worry about, for now.

“My first bag’s full!” Beau announced.

“Mine too,” Thea said as she bent over to grab a box of crackers to shove on the top.

“Set them on the sled and fill up another one,” Sophie instructed as she crouched beside the medical supplies, sorting through what remained.

“Beau, I need your muscle,” Alex called. “This camping gear is heavy.”

Beaming with purpose, Beau handed Thea his bag and headed over to help.

All of them were busy at work without a single complaint, and even if I was still getting to know them, it was sad to think I’d wanted nothing more than to be their travel companion in the beginning. Now, I couldn’t imagine the next five months without them.

I tried not to think about it and stared at the Explorer. We had our work cut out for us, that was for sure. Staring at the dented hatch, I wondered what it would take to get it open and unload the rest of our things, when I noticed a pad print with four claws beside my boot. While I wasn’t generally afraid of wolves, knowing they weren’t exactly man hunters by design, their constant presence was beginning to change that.

I followed the trail a few yards north and then back again before they wrapped around the other side of the vehicle. There were claw marks in the snow, near the back seat where either Thea or Beau had been sitting, like the wolves had been trying to get in or get something out—possibly food. I might not have given it another thought, had my instincts not screamed at me that something was glaringly wrong.

43

Elle

April 13

While the others were at the road gathering our frozen belongings, I straightened our little living space the best I could, smoothing out the fox fur blanket that covered Took’s bed, doing a slow, awkward side bend to pick up Beau’s socks half-hidden beneath the bed frame. It was only a matter of days, maybe even hours before we would leave, and with our few belongings already packed in our bags, it was difficult to find something to do. Bothering Jade or Del while they were in mourning wasn’t an option.

And even though I missed the chatter of the kids, I was relieved Jackson was gone. It was easier that way, for now. We would talk, eventually, but it was a matter of timing again, for the Ranskins’ sake this time. We’d already caused enough upset to last them the rest of their lives.

Fresh air. I needed fresh air and sunshine. There had to be a scientific study published at a college campus on the California coast somewhere about the healing powers of sunshine, or maybe that was just wishful thinking. I doubted it could heal sore bones, but it might help ease my mind a little.

Stepping outside, I turned my face to the sun and closed my eyes against its bright rays. I inhaled the morning air, willing it to seep as deep as possible into my lungs. The warblers chirped, the pine trees rustled in the light breeze, and my hands flexed at my side. It was a beautiful day, and yet it was too quiet—I was stewing. I couldn’t run to expel nervous energy or help the crew clean our supplies from the road. It felt like I couldn’t do anything worthwhile at all, but I was determined to find something.

The Ranskins’ dog yawned and stretched in his kennel; his tail wagged when he noticed me. With an excited yip, he paced back and forth, looking at me like he was waiting for me to do something. There had been little opportunity for casual conversation, so I hadn’t learned his name. He was gray and slender, with a thick fluffy tail and white markings around his mouth.

The closer I drew to him the more excited he became, and when he nudged his empty bowl, I began to understand. “Ah. It’s breakfast time. I’ll see what I can find.” I wasn’t familiar with the property, aside from what I’d seen walking from one cabin to the other, but finding the dog food seemed easy enough. It would be stored somewhere indoors, or in a bin—safe from critters.

Veering away from the shed I knew held Jet’s body, I headed to the shop where I assumed meat and other foods were stored. It was heavily latched with reinforced metal siding, enough to make it more bear proof than the rest.

As I passed the smokehouse, I made a mental list of other tasks that might be helpful, which included checking the embers that smoked inside and pulling the laundry down from the line to fold if it was ready.

I reached for the shed door, realizing the latch was already open, and heard a loud thwack, followed by scraping. Though I thought I should probably turn around so not to intrude, curiosity outweighed my uncertainty and I creaked the door open to peek inside.

The shed was the size of a three-car garage with a workbench along the back wall and a large table with stone slabs in the center. Blood stained the wood paneling around it, but it was too cold to smell anything other than the tang of metal that bolstered the building and the scent of damp earth.

Took stood at the worktable, cutting up caribou meat Del had brought back with him.

“Have you ever killed and prepared your own meat before?” He barely lifted his gaze to look at me.

“No,” I admitted. “I haven’t.” I hadn’t realized he’d noticed my snooping.

He tossed the strips of meat into a container and lifted what looked like an entire side flank from the workbench behind him onto the cutting board. Thwack. He chopped the flank in half. Took managed it effortlessly despite his age lines and peppered hair poking out from beneath his cap.

“Well, I guess I’ve killed my meat before,” I teased, somewhat abashed by my horrible joke. I cleared my throat. “But I’ve never prepared it, no.”

“It’s satisfying—you might like it.”

“I can imagine.” And I could imagine. Out here living was about knowledge, hard work, and patience, and with those three things I would never have to worry about having enough food or providing for the kids. We would be safe, and secluded too.

I peered into two buckets of entrails set off to the side on the floor and tried to remember it was sustenance, not disgusting. The look of raw meat was one of the items I’d have to add to my list of shit to get used to.

“Do you know what a caribou flank would cost at a butcher?” Took’s gaze shifted to mine again. I’d assumed he was being facetious, but he seemed more inquisitive than glib.

“A lot?”

Took shrugged. “No clue. I’ve never had to buy one.”

“Touché,” I said with a quirk of a smile, and I stepped further inside the shed. If he was talking to me, my presence must not have been wholly unwanted. “Can I help you with anything? The rest of the gang went to get our supplies from the road. I’m in the market for some chores.” I held my palm up to add, “I should preface that I’m not good for much.”

Took lifted an eyebrow. “Restless already?”

“Pretty much. I’m one of those people who needs to keep busy. Ever since—” I stopped myself before I could put my foot too far into my mouth. The outbreak was probably like a fresh, gaping wound to them because it was all so new. Took didn’t need reminding.

He tied a strap of leather around a caribou thigh. “The sickness,” he finished for me. “You might as well say it.” He hefted it up, sidestepped me, and headed out the door.

“Okay . . . Well, ever since the outbreak, it’s unnerving to be idle.” I followed him out to the smokehouse, our feet crunching in the snow—still thick in the woods despite the warming days. “You think you won’t survive the illness, then the next thing you know you’re just trying to stay alive. Even in Slana we spent our time stocking up on food and supplies, preparing for whatever comes next. So, being busy keeps me focused.”

Took glanced over his shoulder, his gaze meeting mine. “A restless mind is a restless soul.” He pulled the knot on one crossbeam tighter, stringing the meat up, causing it to swing.

I reached out to steady it. Took was right about that. Restlessness felt more like a disability or a disease, difficult to treat though I’d been trying different remedies for months.

Once Took was satisfied the meat was secure, he turned around, gaze fixed on me. He was a little taller than I was, maybe five-eight or five-nine, and reminded me of my old friend, the fisherman. He had baggy, all-weather trousers on and a trench coat of sorts that looked waterproof, maybe easy to clean after a day butchering meat. “It is a test,” he said, walking past me and out the door.

“Yeah, another one,” I muttered with a humorless laugh.

Took turned to me. “Everything is a test,” he said in earnest, and my face flushed. He lowered a bushy gray eyebrow, and I realized he was referring to himself too, to the turmoil his family was facing. I could see the truth of his words in his eyes, both shimmering and stark. “It’s all part of change—even if it’s difficult. It’s a natural part of life.”

I wasn’t sure how natural the outbreak was; but he was right. Nothing was certain and change was inevitable, no matter how big and small. No matter how heartbreaking.

“I’m sorry, Took. That was insensitive. We’ve turned your world upside down—”

“You should never be sorry for telling the truth,” he said, pointing at me with a dirt and bloodstained finger. Although he was adamant, his voice was soft. “If you hadn’t showed up, we wouldn’t have a month’s worth of caribou meat.” His head tilted ever so slightly and I saw a satisfied twitch in his dark, gray eyes. They were silvery pools of wisdom, just like his daughter’s. “Everything happens for a reason. You are here for a reason.”

For a man who had to give up his house for us to stay in, watch his daughter grieve for her only son, and mourn Jet for himself, Took was less cantankerous than usual. “Thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for?” he grumbled, and continued to the shed. And just like that, grouchy Took was back.

“I’m thanking you for putting things into perspective.” The wood smoke clung to my clothes and hair as I stepped inside behind him. As bad as I felt for the Ranskins, I knew Took was right; they may or may not have ever known what actually happened to Jet, or anyone for that matter.

With a grunt, Took hefted one of the buckets of entrails onto the worktable and began picking through them, sorting the meaty bits from the rest.

“What are you going to do with those?”

“Save some for fish bait and trapping. It’s time to start stocking up for winter again.”

“Already? There’s never a dull moment living out here,” I mused, but it was admiration I felt.

“Each season brings with it new tasks that need to be done. This month the salmon and waterfowl are rampant and we need to stock up before they’ve moved on to their next stop.” He looked up at me and nodded to the door. “Did you see the pot warming on the embers in the smokehouse?”

I nodded.

“Can you carry it?” He glanced at my rib. The pot wasn’t any bigger than a teakettle so I nodded. “Good. Take it to Jade, she’s in the garden shed.”

I nodded because I couldn’t say no, but I wasn’t sure she’d want me in there.

Took handed me a thickly folded cloth and nodded for the door again.

“Oh, the dog  . . . he’s hungry.”

“Yeah, Koda’s always hungry. I’ll take care of it. Go on now,” he urged. “Jade could use a hand, and since you’ve only got one to spare . . .”

I couldn’t help but smile and hurried toward the smokehouse. Took had made a joke, a pretty funny one at that. But I did what I was told and picked the pot off the embers with the folded cloth, feeling the weight of the water in every part of my body as it protested.

With a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and steeled myself for what awaited me in the garden shed. I knew Jade was readying her son’s body for burial, something that felt especially intimate.

Hesitant, I stopped at the door and tapped my knuckles on its rough surface. I’d grieved for my sister’s death and for a life I hadn’t appreciated to the fullest, but I’d never grieved for a child. I wasn’t sure what state I would find her in, but I got the impression Took didn’t want her to be alone.

“Jade,” I whispered through the wood door. Some sort of steel protected the seams in the door for better insulation, and I assumed it was warmer inside.

Jade remained quiet, and I thought maybe she’d returned to the house, but when I creaked the door open, she stood on the far side of a wooden table. Mechanical parts were stacked beneath its thick legs, and plants and burlap bags with bulbs poking out of them hung in clay pots on the walls. Soil dusted the ground, and it looked like the space might have served as their garage too.

Her son’s body lay out on a blanket of caribou hide, wrapped in another blanket from the waist down. Jackson said they’d brought his wife, Sarah, back too. I didn’t see her in the room, but I wasn’t going to ask where she was either.

I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry to intrude,” I whispered, stepping inside. “But . . . I have the warm water.” Jade brushed Jet’s black hair out of his face as one of her tears dripped onto his shoulder. She didn’t acknowledge me—I wasn’t sure she even processed my being there—but she needed the water all the same.

Uncertain where she wanted it, I placed the pot on the table by the crook of his neck.

Like Jade, he had a tattoo, but not dashes on his chin like she did. A black and red Haida moon wrapped around his right shoulder, glistening with Jade’s tears in the sunlight. It was similar to the totem around Took’s neck. Guardian and protector of the people of earth. Jackson had the moon tattoo on his arm as well, and while he was very much alive and virile, it seemed unfair that Jet hadn’t made it too.

I tried to reconcile the way Jet looked now—discolored but not dead-for-four-months decayed, like he’d been preserved in an ice tomb—and how he might’ve looked before.

Jade stared at his face, her eyes red-rimmed but bright gray wells of sadness in the sunlight. I was about to leave her to mourn when she said, “When he was a boy, he loved ice fishing.” She looked up at me, as if a thought struck her. “Have you ever been ice fishing?”

I nodded. “Once, when I was nine.”

“With your father?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Dr. John was the closest thing I’d ever had. At some point I had to accept it.

“Jet loved it. Del and I thought for sure he would be a fisherman one day.” A small smile curved the corner of her mouth as she looked back down at him, seeing the boy he’d been instead of the lifeless man he was. “Can you hand me one of those rags, please?” She pointed to the shelves in the corner behind me where three of them were folded and stacked.

I handed one to her as she poured water into a ceramic dish resting on a shelf behind her. She replaced it with the pot on the table by his shoulder and dipped the cloth, testing the heat of the water before she submerged it completely. Unrushed and thoughtful, she began to wipe his body. Back and forth. Gently. She ran the rag over his cheeks as if she were bathing a small delicate child. A trail of steam followed each careful stroke.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Jade’s head drifted to the right and then the left as she memorized the curves of his face. He was a handsome man with narrower features than Jade had and closely shaven, black whiskers on his face.

“After I had Jet, I thought I might want to have another child, until I saw what kind of father my husband was.” There was a sadness in her voice I understood. A longing, like I often longed for a real family in my childhood. “I wanted Jet to have someone to play with, but it never worked out that way. There were other children in the village back then, but I know he grew lonely sometimes. Especially after they all moved away, lost to the changing world of convenience. I didn’t begrudge any of them, but Jet did, I think.”

She dipped the cloth into the warm water again. “When you live out here, it’s easy to keep busy, but the quiet hours are harder for some; Jet struggled with it, I think that’s why he moved to town with Sarah. He liked the noise and the city.” She talked about her son with a lilt of joy in her voice, a contentment I was grateful she had. “He thought I was so silly for calling it that, the city. It always felt big to me, I think that’s why I never went back.”

A bird whistled outside the shed, and Koda’s excited yelp ricocheted between the outbuildings, but Jade was lost in a world where her son was alive and happy memories made her eyes smile. “I’ve always liked the quiet. It brings me peace, something that Del realized a long time ago. It’s why he’s never made me leave.” She glanced at me. “He moved out here just before my husband died, you know? He had a ranch back in Oklahoma, came here on a fishing trip, my husband was his guide, and Del never left. Jet and I were lucky for that.” Her eyes shimmered as she submerged the rag in the water again and rang it out. “You find people in your life when you need them,” she said. “That’s something I’ve always believed.” She looked up at me again, her gaze lingering this time, and what looked like gratitude pulled at her cheeks as another small smile twitched into place.

Jade’s sincerity made my chest ache. She was right, we’d needed them in more ways than one, and they’d needed us in some strange way too. It was a fate I could feel, even if I couldn’t quite understand it.

With a deep sigh, Jade took Jet’s hand in hers.

“Will you bury them today?” I asked.

“Tonight,” she whispered, running the damp cloth over his fingers. “When the lights dance in the sky.”

44

Elle

April 13

We stood, nine strong at Jet and Sarah’s graves, protected beneath a towering spruce in a quiet forest. Only the sound of a soft wind blew through the boughs above, and though the sun had long set, the snow sparkled in the dancing lights illuminating the sky. They’d always felt like an earthly wonder, but tonight they were more than that. The northern lights were vibrant with life and hope.

Jet’s wrapped body was barely visible as Del and Took placed the final two stones over his grave, a fortified protection from the elements and the wildland creatures above the frozen earth.

Del stood beside Jade and took her hand in his. She squeezed his fingers before she took a step closer to the grave and placed a bear figurine on the headstone.

We stood in a quiet semicircle of grief and sadness. The biting cold breeze stung my over-warm skin. Cold puffs of white comingled between us, and Jade let her tears fall silently on his grave as she said her silent goodbye.

Del bowed his head, as did the children, Thea taking Jade’s hand in hers as she peered down at her little snow-dampened boots. Then Jade closed her eyes and began to sing.

It was a whisper at first, words I’d never heard but that were more beautiful than anything ever spoken. Sounds so celestial they evoked a calm unlike anything I’d ever felt. As her voice grew louder, I recognized the tune and my eyes blurred with tears. She was singing “Amazing Grace.”

Jackson glanced from Jade to me, surprise filling his eyes. The more he listened, the more the permanent crease in his brow softened. I wanted to know what he was thinking, almost yearned to, but when he peered up at the lights, so did I, and I imagined a life where all things could be so breathtaking.

“Dance with the spirits, my son,” she whispered when she finished, and a strong gust of wind blew through the forest, sending Jade’s fur cape flapping in the breeze as she kissed her flattened palm and bent down to place it on a stone for a final time before she joined us in the semicircle again.

Thea did the same, reclaiming Jade’s hand again, and we all stood in respective silence, taking in the beautiful lights that shimmered above us, clearer than they’d been on any night before.

“He will live with the spirits now,” Jade said, peering down at Thea, then at Beau. “With all the souls and spirits that have come before him, animal and man alike.”

Thea blinked up at the lights in awe. Beau wiped at his cheeks, gleaming with dampness, which I hadn’t expected. I took his mittened hand in mine, and startled as a wolf howl sounded in the night sky, closer than I was comfortable with.

Jaw clenched and heart pounding, I peered into the woods surrounding us. The wolves were close. Too close.

“Come,” Del said behind me. “Let’s go back to the house.”

“Are they going to eat Jet?” Thea whined, glancing back at Beau.

“No, sweets,” Jade answered. “They can’t smell him. It’s too cold for that.”

“Come on, Beau.” I turned to leave, squeezing his hand in mine, but he dug his heels into the snow, jerking me back a step. I grimaced and tried not to shout.

“Beau,” I said evenly, “come on. We need to get inside.” I’d never been afraid of wolves before, but their constant presence was impossible to brush off any longer.

Beau didn’t move, acting like he hadn’t even heard me. His eyes locked on the darkness of the forest, at something I couldn’t see, and he wiped another tear from his cheek. “Beau, let’s go pl—”

The white spruce branches trembled, and a black wolf walked out of the shadows, ice on its fur coat, twinkling from the lights above. Its head hung low, and its eyes were so yellow they were almost glowing.

“Elle,” Jackson cautioned, and his looming form appeared beside me. “Let’s go, Beau,” he said firm but calm, his eyes never leaving the wolf.

More glowing eyes came into focus deeper in the woods as three more wolves stepped closer.

“Jackson,” I breathed. He lifted Beau into his arms and took a slow step back, taking my hand in his.

We took another step back, then another, and the wolves watched us without moving as we retreated back to the cabin with the others. Beau didn’t make a peep. The wolves didn’t come closer. I only allowed myself to sigh with relief when Del came up beside us, rifle gripped protectively in his hand. First the wolves were in Slana and now they were here. It was growing harder to ignore the increasing draw Beau had to them—and they to him.

45

Jackson

April 13

The cabin was cramped with nine of us, and more bodies meant more heat. The kids didn’t seem to mind, but I was taking layer off after layer. Elle was down to her t-shirt, though she’d kept her gloves on as usual.

I’d decided I liked that random quirk of hers; she didn’t get grossed out by blood, which there was a lot of when you worked outdoors or raised kids, and she didn’t shy away from hard work or uncomfortable conversations with them like I did. Elle didn’t even complain when the heat was too high and she was so miserable I could see the sweat on her brow. She was selfless and seemed perfect in so many ways, the gloves were a nice reminder that she wasn’t without idiosyncrasies of her own. I appreciated that about her.

“Dinner’s ready,” Alex announced and handed Sophie a soup bowl and bread roll to pass along. I scooted one of the tree stumps over we’d brought inside and claimed a spot next to the couch. I was a big guy, but I didn’t need much in the way of comforts.

Another howl, more distant this time, pierced through the night. The wolves were persistent and still close, even after we’d moved inside. The knot in the pit of my stomach tightened as another wolf howled back.

Elle glanced at me from where she sat at the table next to the kids. The disquiet was equally obvious in her eyes, but the wolves were only one of a few topics she likely wanted to discuss. I’d kept myself busy all day, getting the food and supplies locked up in the meat shed and gathering stones with Alex for the burial. Even if it made me a coward, I still wasn’t ready to know what had happened in Slana, or hear the disappointment underlying her words. You weren’t there.

“Here you go, Del,” Sophie said, handing him a bowl of soup and a warm roll as he sat on the couch beside Jade. “Caribou stew, made with ingredients from your winter garden, of course,” she explained.

“And the rolls, heated to perfection, are from ours,” Elle added wryly.

Del’s eyes gleamed with hunger and he nodded in thanks.

There was another howl, further away this time, and though the Ranskins continued to show no signs of getting sick, I was seriously considering some animals were.

“What’s Del short for?” Beau asked, turning around in his seat at the table.

“Delmont, but don’t bother calling me by it,” he said. “Delmont was my father, and I’m not as old as he was, yet. So, I won’t answer.” He slurped at his stew with a wink.

“I was named after my dad too,” Beau said proudly. “But Beau isn’t short for anything.”

“It’s a good name,” Jade said. She wrapped her shawl tighter around her and nestled deeper into her spot on the futon.

“And, it fits,” Sophie added, handing me a bowl of stew. Her eyes met mine, but only briefly, and she walked back to the stove. “It means handsome in French.”

She’d barely looked at me all day, and even for Sophie, withdrawn as she sometimes was, it felt ominous.

“You’re French?” Thea asked, running her tongue over her red lips. “Wow. That’s fancy.” Either Thea had been hungry enough to brave the piping hot stew, or she was more resilient than I thought and didn’t care in the slightest.

“My mom is—was,” she amended. “Or, I guess my grandma was.” There was a stretch of silence as reality settled in around us again. Everyone we ever knew who wasn’t in the room with us was likely a was now.

“Why am I not surprised you’re French?” Alex smirked. His Alex-like merriment always cut through the thick tension in the room.

Sophie’s pale skin flushed, and she tucked her loose long hair behind her ear and averted her gaze. I wondered if the same charge Alex felt sometimes when he touched Sophie went both ways, and I forced myself not to smile.

Sophie delivered another bowl of stew to Took, then sat at the table beside him, cramped with the kids and Elle. There were a lot of us, but we’d made it work.

“Thanks for dinner, Alex.” Sophie blew on a spoonful and hesitantly took a sip.

Took sniffed the steam that rose from his bowl. “It smells edible at least.”

“Oh, stop it, Dad.”

I chuckled, and finally worked up the nerve to take a bite.

“It’s delicious, Alex,” Jade said, licking her lips. “Don’t listen to him.”

Alex glanced up from his bowl, broth dripping from his chin before he could wipe it away. “I hope so because there’s plenty more.”

Clanks and slurps and sighs filled the room as we all sat in companionable silence, appreciating our warm meal together. Elle quickly admonished the kids when they began playing with their food, and winked at them when she felt she’d done her due diligence as a parental figure, promising them a snowball fight after dinner if they kept more of their broth inside their bowls.

“What about you, Elle,” I asked, growing more curious about her with every week that went by. “What’s Elle short for?”

She gave me a hesitant, sidelong look, and peered around the room.

“Eleanor,” she said reluctantly, and dipped a part of her roll in her broth.

“You don’t like Eleanor?” Her frown surprised me.

“Who said she doesn’t like it?” Del asked. “Sometimes we just like nicknames.”

Elle lifted a dark, delicate eyebrow and took a sip from her bowl, contemplating. Dabbing her lips, she cleared her throat and said, “No, he’s right. I don’t like it.”

“Uh oh,” Took grumbled and sat back in his seat, settling in with bright amusement to listen.

“At least I didn’t use to like it. I’m not sure I feel one way or the other about it now.” She glanced between the eight curious faces staring at her. “I was named after someone I don’t like all that much,” she admitted.

I was expecting a funny retelling about her and her twin sister being mixed up or something at birth, not that she hated her name. But then, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Elle had made it clear her life before was a dark, windy path that gave her nightmares and made her feel like she had to protect herself in order to escape. “It’s your mother’s name?” I couldn’t help the question. I wanted to know how she’d come to be the woman I knew, purposeful and formidable and yet soft in the most striking moments.

“Yes, my mother. She left when I was little, just sort of disappeared. She didn’t care what happened to me and Jenny after that.” She met my gaze, a gleam in her eyes that looked almost desperate, but I wasn’t sure why.

“Took was a family name too,” Jade explained, breaking Elle’s hold over me. “An ancestor I’ve never met.”

I ate a few spoonfuls of stew, finally cool enough for me to appreciate while everyone else was nearly finished.

“Me either,” Took said. “I heard he was a son of a bitch,” he grumbled.

“Dad . . .”

I chuckled. “We’ve all got a few of those in our family.”

“You look like a man who knows a bit about Alaskan heritage, Jackson. Who were you named after?”

“My grandfather.” I wiped my mustache and leaned forward, my elbows resting on my knees. “He was a fisherman in Sitka, originally from Canada. He was one of the last people in my mother’s village that still made his own boats with cottonwood he’d stripped and split.”

“That’s remarkable isn’t it? I can’t imagine having such a skill.” Jade finally walked over to the stove and ladled herself a bowl of stew. “Was he able to teach you?”

I sat my empty bowl down and rubbed my hands over my thighs. Being in a confined space with everyone’s eyes on me was something I was barely getting used to when it was just the six of us, but five sets of eyes had become eight.

Elle watched me, more than amused that I had taken her place in the hot seat. “No,” I said. “My grandfather didn’t get to teach me much of anything, not that I retained anyway. My mother died giving birth to my sister and my dad moved me to Anchorage, where he was from. I didn’t learn much after I turned nine.”

Jade clucked her tongue and sighed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I still fish with willow branches from time to time, though—just like she taught me—and I can build a screaming fire.” I winked at her and smiled, proud of what I could do.

“Both are important skills if you want to live in the wildland,” Del said. “Lord knows I had a thing or two to learn when I decided to stay out here. Hell, I’m still learning.”

The wood in the stove crackled. Beau and Thea whispered as they played with the salt shaker at the table, as if no one could see. Then howling punctuated the silence again.

“Maybe they want the meat in the smokehouse,” Alex said, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. Jade handed him her napkin.

“Maybe, but it’s never been an issue before,” Del said. “Cottonwood has a strong odor to most animals.” He shrugged. “Koda will alert us if they get too close.” Del was good at playing off the wolves, but I knew he couldn’t dismiss them so easily.

Jade shook her head, her smoky colored eyes wary and fixed on me. “You said yourself everything was different now. The animals, could they have gotten sick?”

“I hadn’t thought so, but now . . . I’m not so sure.” I sighed, uncertain what to think anymore.

“It’s possible,” Sophie said, peering into her empty bowl. “That textbook you brought back, Jackson, listed a bunch of animals that can be infected by the avian flu, bird and mammal species.”

“Del,” Jade whispered. “Should we put Koda in the garden shed for the night?”

He nodded. “If it will make you feel better, we will. Just to be safe.”

“We can make sure the kennel is reinforced before we leave. It shouldn’t be more than a day or two. I was going to take Alex out tomorrow and see if we can find a vehicle in Tetlin, or one of the communities along the highway. We can work on a long-term solution for the kennel when we get back.”

“Actually,” Jade said, glancing around at all of us. “I was thinking you could stay here a while longer, for a couple weeks at least, until Elle heals up a bit more and the roads are a bit safer.” She looked pointedly at Elle. “It will give you all some time to get your things in order—find another truck and whatever you need for your trip.”

Elle’s eyebrows shot up, then she looked at me. It was a good idea. In fact, I was relieved they’d offered. It meant we didn’t have to rush to get back on the road and we could offer our help to them for all they’d already done for us.

“That’s really generous of you—” Elle began.

“I insist.” Jade stood up from the couch and patted me on the shoulder. “You all could use this time to regroup and rest.” She walked over to the stove and set her bowl in the washtub.

“We could use the company,” Del admitted. He leaned forward, swallowing the last of his soup as he glanced between Jade and me. “And the distraction.”

Jade hummed as she filled the washtub with melted snow water.

I glanced at Took, uncertain what he thought about all of this. “Well?” he said, impatient.

If grumpy old Took was on board, I didn’t have any reservations. I met Elle’s gaze, though it wasn’t as relieved as I’d thought it would be.

When she realized everyone was waiting for an answer, she smiled. “Yes, of course.”

Beau and Thea shouted, “Yay!”

But I knew Elle’s smiles, and while hers was big and wide, it was reluctant too. “It’s very nice of you to offer. Thank you.” She gathered the kids’ bowls to stack on top of hers.

“Great!” Del sat back into the couch and crossed his legs with a smile. “We’ll have to get some fish while you’re here. Maybe show the kids what it used to be like growing up out here before everything was at your fingertips.”

“Used to be at our fingertips,” Alex muttered, and stretched as he stood, then he went to help Jade with the dishes.

“Fishing would be great.” It was a pastime I rarely had time for, even before the virus, and something that always brought me a sense of peace. “It would be a nice break from all the planning and preparing for a while.”

“Fishing after hunting,” Took groused. “That herd is on the move. They will be gone soon and we could use more Caribou.”

“Yes, after,” Del agreed.

Elle walked past me, biting her bottom lip. I gently grabbed her hand as she passed. “Hey, are you sure it’s okay?” I whispered.

Elle’s eyes darted to mine and then to my hand on hers. She pulled her fingers from mine with just enough urgency to send a message loud and clear. “Yes, it’s fine.” She flashed another false smile, fisting her hand at her side, then sidestepped me and headed to the washtub.

Somehow, I’d crossed a line, and her withdrawal left an unexpected pang of hurt in its wake. Followed by a hearty dose of guilt for caring.

46

Elle

April 14

“Time for chores,” Jade called as she stepped out of the house, a smile lighting her eyes. The kids and I finished donning our outdoor clothes as she slung a .22 over her shoulder. It was small but packed a mean enough punch to scare any unwanted, four-legged visitors away. Being naked of my own gun, I was relieved.

“Can’t we go hunting with Jackson and Del? They probably haven’t gone very far,” Beau pleaded, eyeing her rifle. “Alex let me drive the snowmobile in Slana, I could take us there.”

My eyes widened. “He did, did he?”

Jade chuckled. “No hunting today, Beau.” She opened Koda’s kennel so he could run free. His barking resounded through the air, and the grouse cackled and flit with whistling wings from their sunbathing beneath the trees.

“Besides,” Jade continued. “We have something far more important to do today and it doesn’t require us leaving our own backyard.” She winked at me. “We’re collecting wood. Now” she clapped her hands—“who’s pulling the sled? It needs to be someone strong and—”

“I can do it,” Beau said, trotting over to the sled leaning against the side of the cabin. We’d used it so many times, dragging it over branches and rocks, I was grateful it hadn’t cracked and was still in one piece.

“Thea you can wrangle Koda in,” she said, handing her a leash.

“Okay!” she chirped.

The kids were more than happy to stay with the Ranskins for a while longer. I was less content, however, even if I knew it was irrational. Staying with them had the best possible outcome, but it made me uneasy knowing there was still so much they didn’t understand about us. My fire was coming back, and while Sophie kept her distance when she could, it was only a matter of time until someone started to take it personally.

“Now, do you see that patch of trees up there on the hill?” Jade pointed to the dense horizon. “That’s where we’re going. Keep a sharp eye out for lynx and wolverines, they like to hang out around here because of the hares, and we don’t want any trouble.”

“Okay,” the kids said in unison, as if wolverines and lynx were akin to raccoons and other everyday backyard critters.

“Lead the way.” Jade flung her hand out like she was releasing the greyhounds, and happily, Beau and Thea made their way up the hill, hunting with the grown-ups forgotten, for now. They struggled through the deep snow, but I reveled in the eminent exhaustion our morning excursion would bring. Koda barked and hopped through the snow with Thea, happy to be out of his kennel and part of the commotion.

I took in the wild landscape, sparkling whites and midnight greens against a cloudless blue sky. The world was pristine in the sunlight, reminding me how small we were once again. I made a valiant effort not to move my arm much as we hiked up the hill, each step sending a twinge of pain through my side.

Sophie could know things about people and I could turn to flame, but aside from the men in Slana with evil hearts, I wondered what else people could do. Was there someone out there who could heal themselves? That would come in handy. My burning energy had saved my life twice, but what other abilities did people have? They couldn’t all be bad. Which powers were people using for good?

“Do you think there are colonies of people banding together?” I looked at Jade who seemed to see the good and hopeful in all things. “For all we know, the lower forty-eight are up and running and we’re still up North, clueless. One day, I half expect a helicopter will fly overhead and I’ll feel that grand sense of relief that it’s all over.”

“Do you think?”

I shook my head regretfully. “No, I don’t. It’s already been four months. I feel a sense of hopelessness in my bones, knowing that if it was going to happen, it would have already.”

“You never know,” Jade said as she scanned the wooded hillside for dangers. “The world might surprise you. And yes, I think there are other survivors banding together. It’s the human way, caring for and helping one another. Don’t let a few bad eggs make you lose hope.”

Jade and I continued the rest of the trek in silence, listening to Beau and Thea chatter about the squirrels and hares that had left footprints in the snow.

“Why can’t we see any?” Thea tossed a stick for Koda to retrieve, though it didn’t make it more than a few feet. Her nose and cheeks were rosy, and her braids bounced against her puffy jacket with each perky step. She jumped on a pair of tiny footprints.

“Hey genius, it might be because you’re scaring them away with all your talking and jumping,” Beau told her. “Plus, we look like aliens to them.”

“And we’re big,” she added.

Beau looked down at her. “You’re not big.”

“Yeah-huh!” she retorted, puffing her chest out and glaring at him.

Jade sighed. “Is it strange that I enjoy hearing them bicker?”

“Not at all,” I said with a chuckle. “It helps things feel normal.

“No bickering now,” Jade called, though her voice was light with amusement. “It’s just up here.” She began to walk more quickly. “The winds are stronger on the hill,” she explained, pointing to the split branches and broken twigs covering the ground. “They break easily under the weight of the snow since they’re frozen deep down to the core.” There was an awe in Jade’s voice I admired, a sense of wonder that captivated me when she spoke. I wanted to soak up every bit of knowledge she had, and be just like her one day—centered and confident. I wanted to be content.

“Now,” Jade said. “These—” She picked up a thick, white stick. “These are birch branches good for burning. These are the ones we want. All shapes and sizes, as long as we can pull them down the hill. Got it?”

“What about these?” Thea asked, lifting a wispy, needle covered twig.

“That’s a spruce. We can use the big branches for building. It’s hardwood and strong, good for hanging poles in the smokehouse and in the skinning shed, but not for burning. We’ll come back for those when we have more help, okay?”

Everything Jade knew from living in the wild was like liquid gold. We needed every ounce if we would make it in a world without noise to stave predators away, without factories to make our clothes or the materials for our homes. We would have to relearn the ways of the past to make it in the future.

“Let’s make sure we remember what Jade’s telling us,” I told them. “And ask a lot of questions if we have them. We can teach Sophie, Alex, and Jackson when they get back, and Sophie can put them in her book.”

“Okay,” Beau said, scouring the thick snow beneath the shelter of the trees.

Koda barked at ptarmigan, white and hidden in the snow, and sniffed fox trails that looped through the woods, disappearing deeper inside.

We gathered branch after branch, Beau and Thea making it a timed game to see who could collect more wood the fastest, and we were done before too much time had passed.

“Okay, I think we need to be done,” I told them. I wasn’t sure we could make it down the hill without some of them sliding off as it was. “The load is looking pretty heavy.”

“Here,” Thea said, adding more tinder to the top of the pile.

Jade brushed her gloves off on her pants and peered up at the sky as the clouds moved in front of the sun. “Elle’s right, we should head back and see if we can get a nice warm fire going in the cabin and something to eat.”

I wiped my brow with my forearm. I was wearing a long-sleeve shirt, but had only worn a tank top underneath to help keep my body temperature down. It wasn’t working. “Plus, we’ve still got wood to pile up before the sun goes down,” I added. “Let’s head back.” So I can strip down.

Jade nodded and picked up her discarded .22. “Oh, look, Thea. This is the perfect sized walking stick for you.” Jade picked up a scraggly birch branch and broke off the pointed, wispy end.

“It’s as tall as me,” Thea mused, standing up beside it. With a final measure of approval, Thea followed Jade down the hill, stick jabbing through the snow with each step.

“Ready—” I glanced over my shoulder, waiting for Beau to grab the sled rope, but I lost my voice before I could say his name. He stood a few yards behind me, the black wolf from last night pensive in the sea of trees, staring at him once again.

“Beau,” I breathed, slowly reaching for my pistol, but it wasn’t on my belt.

I looked behind me, afraid to call out for Jade already halfway down the hill, completely unaware. I wanted to scream for her, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Amidst the desperation that tightened every muscle and the terror of uncertainty, something kept my feet from moving and my mouth from opening.

The wolf stood as it had the night before, its head down and its yellow eyes fixated on Beau. A voice screamed at me to pick up branches and scream and shout at the wolf to go away, but fire-Elle, the part of me who knew impossible things were happening all around us, knew Beau was safe. They were ten times stronger than Beau and just as tall, yet they hadn’t hurt any of us yet. Curiosity overwhelmed my instinct to be afraid.

The wolf sniffed the ground, its eyes fixed on Beau. Their silent stare down dragged on until a few thrashing heartbeats later, the wolf blinked and looked away, and as if it was satisfied, it took a step closer.

Fear won out and I took a slight step closer. “Beau,” I said flatly, reaching out my hand.

Neither he nor the wolf seemed to notice I was there, let alone register that I’d spoken.

“Beau, give me your hand,” I told him. “Now.”

Finally, Beau looked up at me, but he just stared at my hand.

“Beau,” I warned and wiggled my fingers. “Come on, take my hand please.”

Obediently, he stepped closer and linked his hand with mine. “She won’t hurt me.” His voice quivered a little, but I wasn’t sure if he was sad for having to leave or a little scared.

“Maybe not, but that’s plenty close enough for one day.”

The wolf brought its head up, watching me so close I wondered if I’d made the wrong choice.

A gunshot pierced the air, and the wolf fled back into the woods. I couldn’t move at first, my heart pounding like a hammer, staking me into the ground where I stood. My hands began to shake as I realized how horribly that could have ended.

I glanced back at Jade, the .22 at her side. “Let’s go home,” she said, her chest heaving. I saw the fear in her eyes, and the bewilderment. “Koda!” she shouted, running a hand through her hair as she turned to head back down the hill again.

Koda ran out of the trees, trotting up behind her with his tongue hanging out of his mouth and his tail wagging. “What are you good for anyway,” she groused, and leaned down to pat his side.

I took Beau’s hand in mine again, gripping it as hard as I could to keep the tremors from worsening.

“She won’t hurt you either,” Beau said quietly, and I looked down at him.

“How—how could you possibly know that?”

He shrugged and picked up the rope to the sled. “I just do.”

47

Jackson

April 14

Brittle, winter-ravaged brush crunched under our feet as we made our way toward a rocky knoll. There was no trail to follow, just Del’s photographic memory from years of hunting the land. We’d tracked the caribou and needed a bird’s-eye view for a proper shot. Although we’d had many target practices over the past several months, none of us had done any hunting.

“Where are the caribou going?” Sophie asked a few steps ahead of me.

“Del said they’re heading for their calving spots,” Alex said, shoving a piece of jerky in his mouth.

“Does that stuff line your pockets or something?” I joked. The kid never seemed to leave camp without it.

His eyebrows waggled and he offered me one. “Maybe. This is some of the stuff Took made. You want some?”

“You mean the stuff he won’t stop bragging about? Sure, why not.”

Alex grabbed another chunk out of his pocket, picked off a piece of lint and handed it to me.

“Thanks.” I tore off a bite and pulled my rifle strap further up my shoulder. I eyed the moose jerky as I gnawed on it. It was smoky but not too over the top that it tasted like a campfire. I shrugged, pleasantly surprised. “Not too bad.”

“Shouldn’t there be more of them then?” Sophie asked and peered out at the small herd in the distance. “I thought the point of having so many members of a herd was to protect themselves and their young; the more bodies and movement, the more confusing it is for their predators.”

“Woodland caribou are more solitary, Soph.” My attention was half focused on Del as he brought the binoculars to his eyes. “And they’re more predictable, which makes them easier targets for poachers and trophy hunters.”

“You don’t like hunters then?” she asked.

“I don’t like people who break the law for a rack they can hang on the wall and then leave the rest to waste.”

“Well, we won’t be doing any of that,” Del said from a couple yards ahead, and he waved us onward. “If we’re lucky, you’ll have an entire caribou to take with you to Whitehorse.” He pointed to a patch of woods on the other side of the clearing. “There’s likely another small herd over there, if history is anything to go by. I’ve seen them there a few times.” Del glanced back the way we came. “Since we have the two snowmobiles, we can take back double the load. We may not get another chance before they’re gone.” Del wasn’t one to be overly emotional—sad, excited, or otherwise—at least not that I’d seen in the few days of knowing him, but he was glad we were there, you could tell with each lively step and hear the smile in his voice. Part of him missed civilization, and while I wouldn’t claim we were high society, we were new faces and animated conversation, and I was glad we could give that to him.

He peered up at the sun then appraised the herd, lying around about a half a mile out. “These guys will be on the move after the first shot. Then we’ll be on the hunt again and we’re wasting daylight.” He nodded toward a rocky bluff ahead with a few evergreens scattered around it. “It’s as good a place as any,” he said. “Careful though, the boulders are slippery.” He stepped over one and pointed to a dozen tiny dots across the field. “Bulls only. It’s hard to tell, so look for big, wide racks.”

“You said big racks,” Alex snickered, and Sophie rolled her eyes.

“Wow, real mature,” she chided.

The three of us followed Del up the knoll, our dusky jackets resembling rocks from a distance, and the caribou couldn’t smell us downwind. It was our first hunting trip and even if we shot nothing, I’d still feel proud. Of all of us though, Sophie seemed the most excited, and I was glad to see her spark was back and that she was interested in being a part of the team again.

“Are you ready for this?” Alex looked at Sophie as we reached the top.

Del offered her his hand as she made the final climb, and she shook her head. “I’m fine, thanks.” She smiled and stared out at the herd. “But I am ready for hunting. It’s been a while since I practiced my aim, but I’m as ready as I’ll get.”

“Well then, you’re up,” Del said, crouching behind the boulder as he peered through the scope on his rifle.

“There’s no pressure, Soph.” Alex handed her his rifle. “In fact, if you don’t get anything it will make me look better when I go next.” He grinned. “So, please, feel free to miss.”

I crouched down, out of the way to watch and wait. “Do you remember what I told you, Soph—”

“Safety on until I’m settled, and keep my finger off the trigger until I’m ready to shoot.”

She glanced at me. “It’s hitting the target I’m more concerned about.”

“It’s all a learning experience,” Del said. “From bullet to bowl, today’s the day you learn how to kill, dress, and store your meat,” he said eagerly and rubbed his hands together excitedly. I imagined he and Jet enjoyed hunting together, and I wondered what it would be like after we left. Took and Del, at it again, only we wouldn’t be around to distract them from the void Jet left in their lives.

“Now, get into position,” he told Sophie. “They’re moving around a lot, so you might have to wait for a good shot.”

She propped the rifle on the top of a boulder and peered through the scope.

Alex grinned and plopped down on the ground beside me. “She’s totally going to get one and show me up, just to spite me.”

“You and me both,” I guessed.

Del lifted his binoculars and studied the herd again. “I see a few bulls to the right. Can you see them?”

She grunted and quirked her mouth in concentration. “Yeah, I think so.”

“The shot’s yours when you’re ready, Sophie. Anywhere behind the shoulder blade.” Del watched the herd as she finished settling in. She fidgeted with the rifle, trying to find a comfort zone, then she took a deep breath and licked her lips.

I waited with bated breath until she pressed the trigger. The shot cracked through the stillness and the herd startled.

“I’ll be damned, girl. You got ‘em!” Del shouted, and the caribou Sophie shot wavered and fell into the snowfield. “We’re on the move, gang!” Del shouted joyously. Grabbing his gun, he headed down the knoll to the snowmobiles.

“Great shot, Soph,” Alex said, and he reached down to help her to her feet.

She took his hand with a triumphant grin, but as she stood, she yanked her hand back again, causing Alex to stumble into a boulder and shout with pain as he slipped and landed on a rock.

“What the hell, Sophie?” he growled, wincing as he climbed back up to his feet. I reached for him to offer some leverage. Alex grabbed hold of my forearm and heaved out a breath.

Sophie clamped her hand over her mouth, eyes wide and head shaking. Alex snatched his gun from her.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I didn’t mean to do that.” Her voice trembled as she glanced from me to Alex. “I just—you can’t touch me. Okay? No one can touch me.”

He looked at his palm, as if he was registering it. “You feel it too, don’t you?” he realized.

“Feel what?” I asked, glancing between them.

“The . . . thing I was telling you about.” Alex’s eyes met Sophie’s again, a silent conversation passing between them and he shook his head. “What do you know, Sophie? What’s going on—why do I feel a wave of uncertainty every time I touch you.”

“I don’t know,” she whimpered. “I don’t know what you’re feeling. I only know what I feel.”

“Which is what?” I asked. Their chests heaved so violently, I thought both of them might be on the brink of tears. “What the hell is going on?”

“It was fine for a while,” she said, mostly to herself. “But—” She looked Alex right in the eyes. “Something’s wrong with me. Ever since Whitely.”

“Whitely?” I blurted. That was nearly five months ago.

“Then tell me. What’s wrong with you?” Alex begged. “You’re freaking me out, Sophie.”

“Good, because it’s fucking scary,” she blurted.

“The charge?” I asked, looking at Alex. “Is this about the charge you feel around her?” I was beyond lost, but it was the only thing I could think to grab hold of.

Sophie shook her head and took a step back, like the world was closing in on her and she was going to make a run for it. “I know it, all of it—everything you don’t want to feel.” Sophie looked at me this time. “I know it and I can feel it, too.” The look on her face was one of disgust as she let her hands fall at her sides and paced back and forth.

“Say that again?” I asked. “What don’t I want you to know?” I had no secrets—nothing to hide. Nothing that would make her fear me.

“Your wife,” she bleated. “Molly . . .”

“Hannah?” Molly? I’d never told Elle or anyone else my daughter’s name, at least not that I could remember.

“I know how bloody your hands were as you buried her—I can feel what it cost you, the part of you that died that day. I know how much you loved her, how much you still love her and that it’s hard for you to be around us—”

“Stop!” I told her. “Just—just stop.”

I ran my fingers through my hair as dizziness set in, and I turned away from her. Sophie knowing anything about my life before was like my flesh had been peeled away, every dark part of me gaping and exposed.

“How?” I breathed, forcing myself to face her. “How do you know any of that?”

Sophie’s head shook. Her chin trembled. Her eyes clouded with tears. “I—I don’t know. I don’t know how any of it is possible. We’re just—different.” She looked at Alex. “And somehow you feel it too.”

Alex stepped back like he was petrified of the very thought. “No. I don’t see that shit. I feel something, but I don’t know any of that—I don’t want to.”

Sophie reached for his hand, desperate to show him.

Alex’s mouth opened in protest, but the words never fell from his lips. The creases in his brow deepened, his lips pinched together, and his eyes shimmered with unshed tears before he had the wherewithal to tear his hand away from her.

I gawked at Alex, weighing his reaction, then at Sophie with disbelief. Sophie’s words were impossible—what was happening was impossible.

“It’s only when someone touches me,” she explained. “Except for you, Alex. I feel a connection with you, but I’ve always shied away from it because I don’t want to know more. I don’t want to know everything.”

Dark shadows filled Alex’s eyes. “Why didn’t you say something? At least I would’ve known I didn’t repulse you.”

She blinked at him, her gaze softening. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

“This is what you were trying to tell me in the truck?” I considered Alex’s words, and tried to understand how I’d missed so much.

Alex shook his head and threw his hands up. “I have felt weird touching Sophie and Elle, but I didn’t know what it—” He looked at Sophie. “Wait, is that why Elle wears gloves? Because she feels it too?”

“No, she had them before—it’s because of the fire.”

“The what?” Alex and I blurted.

Sophie glanced between us, licking her lips as she took a step back. “We’re different,” she said. “But you”—she looked directly at me—“you should ask her about it.”

It was like all the knots in my stomach from the past four months twisted together, tighter and tighter until I couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Elle’s had plenty of time to tell me,” I grounded out. My hands clenched at my side and I looked into Sophie’s secretive blue eyes. “Tell me. Now.”

Sophie lifted her chin, almost defiantly, and swallowed thickly. “She didn’t mean to do it,” she prefaced.

“Do what? Why does she wear the damn gloves, Sophie?”

“The men in Slana,” she started. “We shot two of them, but the other burned alive.”

“You’re saying her hands are fire?” Alex confirmed, barely able to believe it himself, but then recognition widened his eyes and lit his face. “So, that’s what I feel when I touch her.”

“That’s impossible,” I rasped. It couldn’t physically be possible. I’d seen her hands, hadn’t I? They were normal, just like everyone else’s.

The gloves are because of the fire . . .

My mind was screaming at me, telling me this wasn’t real. These abilities weren’t even possible, and if Elle had known about them—if she could kill a man with her hands—she would’ve told me.

While Alex considered the implications of his touch, all I could think about was why Elle had kept what she could do from me. “Did she think I wouldn’t believe her?” I thought aloud. She’d told me the men in Slana had been dangerous, that survivors were changed, but like this? It wasn’t just the men who could do unnatural things. She was different. All three of them were.

“How long?” I met Sophie’s gaze, subdued and crestfallen in a way I’d never seen before. “How long have you been keeping what you see a secret?”

“It’s only gotten worse the last couple months.”

“And Elle? How long has she been hiding this?”

Sophie’s brow furrowed.

“How long?”

“A while.”

Alex looked at his hands like he might see flames burst from them.

“How long is a while?” I repeated.

“I felt it the night I met her, at your apartment, Sophie.” He paused and shook his head. “She touched me, and a weird feeling—I thought I was just crazy.”

“That’s what we’ve been worried about. It’s why we haven’t said anything.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed at a memory. “The guy in her house . . . I can’t imagine killing someone with my bare hands . . .”

My heartbeat shuddered and I peered down at Sophie’s delicate hands.

Like one of Alex’s electric charges zapped through me, the pieces fell into place. The guy in her house?

Elle wasn’t just hiding what she could do, she was hiding what she had done.

48

Elle

April 14

I sat at the table with Jade, mending the wear and tear in our clothes I’d neglected for months. I turned one of Jackson’s wool socks inside out, deciding on a red thread since I didn’t have black to match. I tied a knot in the end of the string, only for it to pull its way all the way through the wool, and I groaned.

“You need a larger knot at the bottom,” Jade said, peering over the rim of her glasses. She didn’t normally wear them, but they suited her.

“It feels like a cruel joke,” I said, staring at the pile of clothes.

“What’s that?” She pulled the needle through a tattered quilt she was re-hemming.

“We’d planned to stock up on clothes before we left, but leaving in such a hurry, we hadn’t gotten to it. It’s the end of the world and we could go on the biggest shopping spree of our lives, and yet here I am, sewing our holey socks and underwear because we only brought enough to get by.”

I stared at my thermal tops. Case in point. What I really needed were t-shirts. I wiped the moisture from my brow and glanced at the low burning fire in the stove the kids huddled beside, whispering. “Where did you two sneak off to after chores, anyway?”

“Nowhere,” they said in unison.

I lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “Is that so?” They’d been conspiratorial since we’d returned. “Maybe you should wash that sap off your hands then,” I told them. “You wouldn’t want to leave any evidence.”

Beau looked at his hands, then at his sister’s. “Thea,” he groaned, and helped her to her feet. They walked over to the washtub, their whispers fading when they noticed my eyes on them. “I hope you haven’t been getting into trouble. Took might not take you fishing tomorrow.”

“We didn’t do anything,” Beau griped, and while part of me wanted to tell him to watch his tone, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. After what happened with the wolf, he’d been distracted, and I couldn’t blame him. I couldn’t stop thinking about it either.

“It must be nice to have so many people care about you and want to keep you safe,” Jade told Beau with a soft chuckle. She winked at me and rose to her feet.

“Not really,” he grumbled.

Jade lifted her mug. “Care for some tea?” she offered. “Tundra tea with a little honey. I make it from a shrub that grows heavy around here in the spring. I don’t make it very strong unless I’m using it for medicinal reasons, but I’ve grown to like the taste more over the years.”

“Yes, please. I’d love some.”

While Jade puttered around in the kitchen, I silently rejoiced completing the sock-mending pile.

Jade brought two mugs back to the table and sat one down in front of me. I lifted the mug to my nose and inhaled. I could smell the honey mingling with something unrecognizable but a bit bitter.

“So,” Jade said, more quietly than before. Her eyes shifted to Beau. “Will you tell Jackson about what happened today?”

“Yes. When he gets back. I have a lot to tell him.”

“You’re worried?”

I inhaled like it might make the tension in my chest and shoulders dissipate. “I’ve sort of been stockpiling conversations we need to have. Let’s just say he won’t be happy with me.” I lifted the mug to my mouth and took a sip. It was scorching hot, but I only remotely felt it. “I’m talking to him tonight though.” I couldn’t put it off any longer—Jackson couldn’t put it off any longer. He’d been avoiding me too.

Like Jackson could hear his name on the breeze, the snowmobiles hummed toward the house. The kids jumped to their feet and were out the door before I could tell them to grab their jackets.

I set my mug on the table and met Jade’s pewter gaze.

She smiled reassuringly, and squeezed my hand. “Whatever it is, you’ll be fine. You both only want what’s best for the children and each other, so you’ll work things out.”

I nearly snorted a laugh. “I’m glad someone has so much faith in me.”

Jade and I rose to our feet and headed for the door. I’d spent the past few weeks preparing myself for this conversation, and while I was half petrified, another part of me had no energy left to worry about the outcome.

When I stepped outside, Alex and Sophie climbed off one mobile, more somber than I’d expected, and Del climbed off the other. They had two sleds of caribou meat, but there was no Jackson.

When Sophie saw me standing on the porch, she glanced furtively away with reddened cheeks.

“What is it?” I asked stepping off the porch. “Did something happen?”

It wasn’t until Alex met my gaze, his eyes darting directly to my hands, that dread began coiling inside me.

“Jackson knows,” Sophie said so quiet it was almost lost to the sound of the sled being drug across the snow. It was a warning, but I felt relief as the burden of my secret dissolved to nothing. But in realizing Jackson wasn’t with them, apprehension settled quickly in its place.

“He needs space,” Alex said over his shoulder.

Needing space I understood, but the questions were whether he was coming back and if he did, would he stay?

49

Jackson

April 14

The night I met Elle in Anchorage, I debated whether I should save her life. It went against every fiber in me not to, but I’d seen too much and had expected the worst, even as the three men surrounded her. It was a split-second of indecision, but I knew I would never forgive myself if I walked away, knowing there was a chance an innocent might die, even if she proved to be as crazy as the rest in the end. Noticing the kids she was trying to protect, only helped me pull the trigger. And as she stood over her assaulters’ lifeless bodies, shaking but determined not to look away, she compelled me to offer them a safe place to stay.

I saw myself in her that night, on the brink of breaking as she sat on that couch, but instead of giving up, she used her fear to bolster her strength. At least that was what I thought I’d seen. After the shock of learning the truth of who she was and what she could do wore off, I questioned everything I thought I knew.

I stared into the dark forest as I walked through the snow, drawing closer to the cabin with each step.

Elle had been lying from the first night I met her. I didn’t blame her for not telling me who she was back then, but I blamed her for hiding it the moment she joined me and for hiding it every day since. As much as I understood her fear, she hadn’t even tried to tell me the truth. I felt like an idiot, commending her on her quirks and strength, unaware the entire time of the truth. I’d berated myself this whole time for putting her and the kids at risk, while Elle wasn’t only capable and strong, she could be deadly if she wanted to be.

I rolled my shoulders, willing the tension to disperse as I peered up at the main cabin’s chimney, billowing with smoke. Sophie had kept what she could do from all of us, too. I didn’t like the fact she was walking around with my memories—memories no teenager should have to witness—and yet her silence didn’t hurt as much as Elle’s did.

Across the yard, I saw the light under the skinning shed door and headed toward it, passing the house and determined to keep my hands and mind busy for as long as possible.

“Jackson?” Elle’s voice was barely a whisper, and I tried to ignore the way my chest ached as I walked past.

“I’m not talking about this now,” I told her, forcing myself to keep walking. I was weak around her, and I hadn’t realized how much until tonight.

“I know you’re angry with me, but there’s something I need to tell you—”

“There’s more?” I spun around. “Really?”

She stepped off the porch into the moonlight, her eyes like liquid malachite and shimmering. I felt senseless satisfaction, knowing she was hurting too. Even if I knew Elle wasn’t malicious, she’d made a conscious, daily decision not to tell me the truth about what she had done and what she could do, and betrayal stung like a bitch.

“Jackson, I know I should’ve told you. I was scared—”

“Scared? You could’ve fried me with one touch and you’re scared of me—?”

“I would never hurt you—”

“You already have!” I shouted.

She flinched and her dark hair fell in her face as she took a sudden step back.

“I already knew my dad was crazy, Elle. He loved his damn dogs more than me and shot them for God’s sake. You knew how crazy I felt as I put the pieces together about what happened to him—that I knew something was wrong—and you didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t know if you’d believe me—”

“Oh, that’s horseshit,” I spat. “We’ve been partners in everything.” I hated that my voice wavered, that any of this mattered so much. I was supposed to be indifferent, just going through the motions until it was time to part ways, and yet each of her omissions felt like a burning hole in my gut. “At least I thought we were—and take those gloves off, they aren’t protecting anybody.” I shook my head.

Her shoulders heaved, but so did mine. My face burned, like my chest, and I couldn’t catch my breath. I hated myself for being angry with her, but I couldn’t help it either.

The door to the cabin cracked open, and Beau stepped outside. “Are you guys okay?” He leaned against the porch post, the corners of his mouth pulled down with worry.

Elle wiped the tears from her cheek.

“Yeah, kid.” My heart squeezed as I realized whatever world I’d been living in all this time was only a false sense of belonging. “We’re fine.”

Unwilling to risk more of a scene, I turned on my heels and headed for the skinning shed.

I opened the door and shut myself inside, trying to catch my breath.

When I looked up, Took, Del, Alex, and Sophie were looking at me, their faces brightly lit by the lantern light.

Sophie looked away immediately, cheeks reddened. Del wasn’t an idiot. He didn’t know what I was upset about, exactly, but he knew enough to look at me with a sympathy I didn’t want.

“What’s left to do?” I pulled my gun strap over my shoulder and leaned it against the wall.

Del held up his knife. “We’re learning about the best angle for proper precision and the right type of blade.”

I shrugged my jacket off, tossed it over a pallet of canning jars, and stepped closer. “Don’t stop on my account.”

Took handed me the knife. “I’ll let you take over,” he said. “I need to check on something.”

Alex pointed to the hindquarter strung up on a crossbeam, waiting to be taken to the smoker. “That one’s ours,” he said. “I’ll hang it up.”

“I’ll help,” Sophie added, and they disappeared before I could say anything. At least the two of them had made amends, or so it seemed.

“What are we cutting?” I asked, peering down at the hunk of meat on the stone top.

“We’re cutting half the steaks into stew bits. It’s easier to thaw and more versatile that way.”

I followed his lead, grateful for a task to focus on.

Del looked at me. “Should I even ask?”

“Nope.”

“Have it your own way,” he muttered. We cut meat slab after meat slab until the steak strips were tied and the stew bits were sealed in jars to go into the underground freezer. “We’ll get a new block of ice tomorrow while we’re ice fishing, before the lake completely melts. That will keep everything cold throughout the summer.”

Tomorrow—summer . . . it all seemed too distant in the future. I needed to get through tonight first.

“Sounds good—”

“Jackson!”

I glanced up at the door as it flung open, creaking on its rusty hinges. Elle stood breathless in the doorway. She winced as she handed me the satellite phone.

“It’s Ross—he’s trying to reach you.”

50

Jackson

April 14

I grabbed the phone, my hands trembling as I brought it to my ear, only this time I wasn’t shaking with dread, worried I wouldn’t get a response.

“Ross?” I had to force the word out and I held my breath.

Muffled movement was all I heard at first. “Jackson? It’s damn good to hear your voice.”

My heart swelled at his familiar timbre. “You son of a bitch,” I rasped. Tears stung my eyes. I hadn’t experienced joy in so long I’d almost forgotten how light and liberating it was. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve tried calling you for months.”

“Where haven’t I been?” he said dryly. “I had to deviate a little.”

“Yeah, no shit. I almost gave up hope.” I looked at Del, forgetting he was standing there. Then, I looked at Elle. She averted her gaze, chewing her bottom lip.

Getting too warm in the shed’s confinement, I stepped out into the brisk night.

“I know, brother. It’s been awhile.”

I hated to ask, but it seemed insensitive not to. “Kelsey?”

“Who? Oh, no. She didn’t make it.”

Who? God only knew what he’d been through since Anchorage, but who?

“Where are you, Ross?”

“I’m in Fairbanks,” he said. I waited for him to say more. “What about you, where have you been?”

“All over the fucking place,” I told him. “I’ve been traveling with some people though. I haven’t been alone.”

“Oh, good. Me too. I met a guy here in Fairbanks.” While I knew what we’d been through would change us, it was hard to tell if Ross was being intentionally vague, if he was crazy, or maybe just broken in so many pieces he’d never be the Ross I remembered. Either way, I was beginning to worry. “Is everything okay?”

He chuckled. “Not at all, are you?”

“I’m serious. Where the fuck have you been?” I felt like a broken record, but as the sleepless nights and discoveries of the day set in, all I felt was relief. Ross was alive. “I thought you were dead.”

“I know, Jackson. Shit—I’m sorry, brother. It’s a long story. Nothing I can get into now. But I promise, I will tell you, everything.”

Ross was true to his word, always, and my gut told me that while I felt sick to my stomach for a dozen reasons, I knew I could trust him. So I did.

“Are we still meeting somewhere?”

“Whitehorse,” I told him. “I’m in St. Elias territory, though. I’ll head to the Midnight Sun Lodge as soon as I can. I can probably be there in a week.”

“Great. That gives me time to fuel up and get the truck ready.”

“You still in the work truck?”

He laughed. “That thing has saved my life a few times,” he said. “You weren’t exaggerating when you said people were fucking bonkers.”

I could only imagine what he’d come across in Fairbanks. “I’m just glad you’re breathing,” I told him. It was all I’d wanted after radio silence for so long.

“Back at you, brother. I’ll call you when we’re ready to leave. Deal?”

“Same.”

It was silent as Ross breathed into the phone, and I wondered what else there was to say. It felt like there should’ve been a thousand things, but knowing he was alive was enough, for now.

“Hey, Jackson,” Ross said, tentative.

“Yeah?”

“Stay safe, my man.”

“You too, Ross.” After another hesitant pause, he ended the call.

I stared at the phone in my hand. It had been practically glued to me since Anchorage but his calls never came. There had been a hollowness I carried, a void of every life I cared about being taken, but knowing Ross was alive was like an overflowing bowl of sustenance I needed at the perfect moment. Ross sounded different, but I was different too.

Bottom line, I would get to see him after all these months of thinking he was dead.

Tears burned my eyes. Exhaustion solidified. For the first time in months, all I wanted to do was sleep.

51

Elle

April 15

Jackson didn’t want to talk to me, but his anger toward me and what I had done aside, he needed to. Everyone knew he’d finally found Ross, and it was only a matter of time before he would leave. Jackson had found his friend, there was no reason for him to wait around with us any longer. But we needed to know when he was leaving. He still didn’t know about Beau and the wolf either, but maybe he wouldn’t care either way.

He’d been gone all night, and while I didn’t blame him for needing his space, it was morning, and I needed him to think about the kids.

Heart in my throat, I walked over to the side of the Tacoma’s cabin, where he sorted through the supplies brought in from the road. I’d already organized them and taken inventory, but I wouldn’t stop him from his maniacal searching.

He glanced up as I approached, squinting in the sunlight. “Have you seen the fishing line?” he asked, lifting the lid to the hunting bin. That he acknowledged me at all was a good sign.

“It’s in the craft box.”

He glowered. “The craft box?”

I nodded to the bin beneath the camping supplies behind him. “It’s more of a junk drawer, but you’ll find a spool in there.”

He lifted one bin off the other and began rifling through rubber bands and zip ties, the miniature sewing kit and safety pins.

“I know you don’t want to talk,” I said, straightening my shoulders. “And that’s fine, but the kids—”

“The kids what?” He found the spool and clicked the lid back onto the box and put it into the truck bed.

“They know you talked to Ross last night and they’re worried.”

He flipped opened a toolbox. “Why would the kids be worried?” He seemed almost indifferent to my standing there as he fingered through the nuts and bolts.

I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling my side twinge, but it was bearable. “Are you going to leave?”

“That was always the plan.” He pulled out a drawer, didn’t see what he needed, then shut it. Opened another drawer and shut it just as quickly.

“What are you looking for? Maybe I can help you.”

“The sharpening stone.”

“It’s with the box cutter and scissors in the Do Not Touch bin.”

He continued to move the bins around.

“Jackson, would you—” I reached for his arm, determined to make him stop for a single second to look at me.

He paused, eyes fixed on my hand gripping his bicep, so I let it fall away. It wasn’t fear in his eyes, even if he’d said I was dangerous, it was something much more distant. “You can be mad at me, but that’s not what this is about—”

He straightened and turned to face me fully. For the first time since I’d known him it felt like he was looming over me, almost threatening. Somehow, his reserve was much more fearsome than his shouting at me last night, and I felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

I shoved my hands in my back pockets. “They care about you,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “They think you will leave them.”

Pain creased the corner of his eyes before he glanced away. “I’m not leaving yet,” he said, staring at the cabin.

“Will you talk to them? Sophie feels responsible, and she knows you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry,” he said, though I knew it was a lie.

“Will you tell her that? She thinks I’m only saying it to make her feel better.”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to her,” he said. “And I’ll talk to Thea and Beau while we’re at the lake.”

My eyes widened. “You’re still going?”

Jackson’s gaze hardened. “Why wouldn’t we?”

I opened my mouth but couldn’t find the words. I was uncertain what to think anymore. “I don’t know. I guess I thought you might decide . . .”

“To what, blow them off, like suddenly I don’t care about them?” His jaw clenched. “Glad to know you think so highly of me.”

“I—” I didn’t like this indifferent side of him, like the old Jackson was back and he was distancing himself from me again. “I didn’t mean that. My not telling you wasn’t because I don’t trust you.”

“Wasn’t it, Elle?”

He spoke the words so easily, I questioned for a split-second if they were true. “No, it wasn’t. I wanted to tell you,” I told him shakily.

“But you wanted my help more and thought I’d leave.” There was no anger in his voice, barely any emotion at all, just simple facts.

“At first, maybe. But it got more complicated than that.” He grabbed his toolbox like he was finished talking to me.

“I don’t blame you for being angry—”

“I told you, Elle. I’m not angry.”

“Well, maybe you should be!” I shouted then clamped my mouth shut.

“What the hell do you want from me, Elle?” He took a step closer, his hazel eyes fierce in the sunlight. “Do you want me to shout at you? Do you want me to tell you that it’s all bullshit because you had months to tell me and you chose not to. And you know what . . .” He stared down at my gloved hands. I would’ve rather had him lash into me, like he just needed to get it out of his system and then things could go back to the way they were, rather than have him stare at my gloved hands in silence, like they disgusted him.

“I didn’t ask for this,” I told him, almost a plea for him to understand. He might not want to talk about it anymore, but I did. “I woke up one day to a man in my house who was trying to kill me. I thought I was going to die and then a horrifying, miraculous thing happened.” The tears welled in my eyes, and I tried to blink them away. “You can judge me for not telling you what I did to your father, and you can be angry for my not telling you what I can do. But you can’t be angry at me because of what I can do—”

“Elle—”

“Just listen, please,” I begged. “I didn’t tell you what I did when we met because it seemed impossible and you would think I was crazy like the rest. I worried I was crazy. And you’re right, I was scared with four kids and I needed your help to keep them safe. But I kept it a secret because I didn’t want to hurt you and I don’t want to lose you.” I wiped the tears from my cheeks and took a step back. “Something crazy is happening, Jackson. Something I don’t understand, and it’s not just me. Beau and Sophie . . .” I shoved my hands back into my pockets. “They’re scared. I just hope you can find the time to say goodbye before you disappear.”

Having said enough, I turned back for the cabin. If Jackson was the man I thought he was, he’d make things right with them before he left. If he wasn’t, then the five of us were back where we started: scared and determined, and we’d figure it out on our own.

52

Sophie

April 15

They say an old soul is a person who has the knowledge and wisdom of someone much older than they are. The only person who ever told me I was an old soul was an elderly woman in my building who mistook me for Holly Lynch, a girl who hadn’t lived on my floor for over ten years, or so I was later told. But watching Elle and Jackson argue with each other made me feel like an old soul.

It was weird and not because it felt like they were a mix between pseudo-parents and older siblings to me. It was because it felt like I knew both of them better than they knew themselves sometimes. I didn’t know what they were feeling and thinking all the time or anything like that—my power didn’t work that way—but I’d learned plenty about them since all this craziness started, stuff I don’t think even they were aware of.

Being only eighteen, I wasn’t supposed to know those types of things. A person was supposed to accumulate knowledge over the years and gain wisdom in their old age through experience. Instead, it was like reading sections of a biography in a single touch, absorbed into a photographic memory complete with live action, color, and all the feels. Good or bad, each glimpse became part of the library, all because I let someone pat my shoulder or because one of them would grab my hand when I wasn’t expecting it and there was a spark of a connection. When it happened and what I saw were out of my control.

Stretching my legs out on the porch step, I stared at the skinning shack across the yard where Alex and I played butcher-the-caribou last night. I’d hunted—I’d shot an animal. I hadn’t seen that one coming. I was the pale girl with weak hips and twisted ankles who had to wear leg braces most of her childhood so that her mother’s image of perfection wasn’t shattered and it would keep the bullies at bay. The day I’d gotten sick I was worried about teen pregnancy, now I was learning how to live off the land like Swiss Family Robinson—six survivors living in a wild world wrought with dangers.

Day one of surviving together had been awkward.

Week one had been eye-opening, to say the least.

Week two I’d finally bought into the dynamic of staying together—love them or hate them—and everything else was history.

The difference was everyone only saw Sophie Collins, the strange delicate girl who needed extra care and acted crazy sometimes, yet when I thought of Elle, Jackson, and Alex, it felt like I’d known them a lifetime. There wasn’t a TMI switch I could shut off when I was on overload, and those were the days I wanted to disappear in a dark cave and hide. Forever.

The door to our cabin opened, and Alex stepped out onto the porch. He’d been avoiding me, which I knew would happen.

“I thought you’d be out doing . . . whatever you do when you’re not hanging with the kids,” he said.

“Yeah, well, there’s no reason to hide anymore.” The cat was out of the bag. I lifted up the science book that Jackson had gotten for me. “Besides, I’ve been doing some light reading,” I told him.

Alex crouched down beside me, a waft of wood smoke filling my nose.

“You could’ve told me, Soph,” he said softly. “I wouldn’t have thought you were crazy.” While his voice was gentle for reassurance, he still sat three feet away from me.

“You wouldn’t?” I knew enough about him and his character to know there were a hundred things he’d never want me to know. Like the first time he was with a girl and how incredibly awkward it had been; what life was like with his real family before his dad died and the guilt he carried because of it ever since.

“I would rather have known why you were keeping your distance than assumed the worst.”

I looked at him, right into his beautiful green eyes. “Are you sure about that? You’re not so much an open book as you like people to think you are. I know you hate me knowing things about you.”

He didn’t bother denying it.

“Besides,” I told him. “I already feel crazy enough. I didn’t want you, of all people, acting weird around me . . . or for you to look at me differently.” Alex had been an unexpected gift since the day I’d met him, even before our entire apartment building was infected with the virus. I hadn’t known him twelve hours, and he’d saved my life in more ways than one.

“I might not like that you know, but it doesn’t change anything.” His voice was like a lure that hooked me and pulled me out of whatever fog I sometimes found myself in. And it also sounded like he meant it, but as my superpower strengthened, so would his discomfort.

“Maybe not,” I said, but Alex had never had a sense of place, and I knew the minute I’d first felt his memories of his family, that he’d push me away if I got too close to his truth. “Did you have a girlfriend, before I mean?” I stared down at my broken nails, jagged and dirty. I’d come a long way from the mayor’s groomed and picture-perfect daughter. If my mother could see me now . . .

Alex smiled. “No. Why, are you interested?” His eyebrows danced at the insinuation.

“No, of course not,” I said too quickly. “That would be weird, right?” I tried to laugh it off.

“Yeah, I guess,” he said, but he didn’t laugh with me. “Especially since you’ve been pushing me away the past few months. Besides, all-knowing wizard that you are, wouldn’t you already know if I’d had a girlfriend?”

I shrugged. “No, not unless I made a habit of touching you. I’ve kept my distance from everyone for a reason, remember?”

“Why do you ask, seriously?”

“Oh, because,” I drawled. “I wanted to know what she was like.”

In December I had a subpar boyfriend and was on the brink of an emotional breakdown, and that was before the virus. After was even worse. Alex had been my rock, and he’d seen me at my absolute worst, weak and desperate and grieving for my dead parents. Even though I knew he felt something for me, I didn’t want Alex to want me because I was a girl he liked to save. I wanted him to like me because I was strong and useful and came with a TNT Flammable label, not Fragile - Handle With Care.

“What sort of stuff do you know?” he asked, and I felt my face flush as I scooted around to face him, one leg crossed over my lap. He wasn’t asking about Elle and Jackson.

Everyone had dark pasts.

What I know changes nothing—not how I feel about you, Elle, or Jackson.

I wanted to give him a dozen reassurances but I didn’t. It wouldn’t do any good if I did.

So, what did I tell him if not the full truth? I knew he had burn marks on his arms from his mother. I knew the hairline scar on his right temple was from being bullied when he was little because he was poor. I knew what his stepdad did to him the day he died.

“Random stuff,” I said instead, and it was true—I saw whatever people were feeling in the moment, and the memories that linked to it in one way or another. “Personal stuff,” I added. The emotions were the worst part. The happy ones tended to fade, just like optimism on a shitty day. The bad ones clung like weights, and I assumed because they were so much stronger with all the anxiety and doubt everyone felt all the time now.

“But like what, exactly? My favorite color? The first time I smoked weed in middle school? Or like, the crazy shit?” He knew it was more than colors and rap sheets, but if I didn’t tell him something, the curiosity would eat away at him.

“I know you always marked ‘Other’ on intake forms instead of ‘Hispanic’ because you don’t know who your real dad was.” I told him. “And I know that you’ve always wondered if you had any siblings. And I know why you bought me that pregnancy test the day we first met.”

The amusement dulled in his eyes and he pursed his lips.

“I won’t tell anyone,” I promised.

Even if Alex didn’t like my knowing things, he knew he could trust me. His face softened. “I know, Soph.”

We stared at each other for a few long seconds; the cool morning breeze was refreshing against my warming skin.

“What about you?” I asked, glad I wasn’t the only screwed up one. “What have you seen?”

“Yesterday was the first time,” he said. “You were worried your hair was out of place—”

I pretended to throw the textbook at him. “Shut up. That’s not what I worry about.”

He grinned.

“Sometimes you do,” he said with a smirk. “Admit it.”

“Well, I don’t want to look like a bush woman.” His smile was infectious, and I laughed. “Stop staring at me.”

“I can’t help it. Now it’s all I can think about—Sophie the Alaskan bush woman.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m glad to see you’re having so much fun with this.”

“I’m only playing. That’s not what I saw.” His voice sobered and his eyes glazed over like he was standing on that rocky knoll again, eyes wide and terrified. “I saw Elle and that man in Slana. Not the whole thing but bursts of images and I could feel her power, though I wasn’t sure if it was actually hers or your perception of her.”

“Could’ve been both, I guess.” It was hard to discern my emotions from others sometimes because my reactions to theirs were often similar.

Alex let out a breath and leaned back against the porch post, then he laughed and dragged his fingers over his head. “This is so crazy. We’re talking about this shit like it’s normal.”

“Yeah, trust me, it feels anything but normal.”

He shrugged. “It’s that or freak the fuck out.” And that was probably one of the most real things Alex had said to me, even if he thought he’d meant all the rest.

I looked at him, studying the verdant depths of his eyes.

“What?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re an old soul?”

“Oh boy. Now we’re getting too deep,” he teased, jumping to his feet. “Come on, let’s go get some breakfast. My treat.”

“Oh, a granola bar. Lucky me.”

53

Jackson

April 15

“I’ve never fished before,” Thea said, peering out the window of the truck. I glanced at her in the mirror, then at Beau. While Thea talked enough for the three of us, Beau seemed even more out of sorts than usual.

“Well, hopefully you’ll have fun,” I told her. “I enjoyed fishing when I was your age.” I hadn’t ice fished in years, but soon the ice would melt completely and they might miss their chance to learn.

Beau was quiet in the back. He stared out the window, his mind somewhere else. “How about you, Beau? Are you excited to try fishing for the first time?”

“I went once, with my dad,” he mumbled.

“Good, maybe you can teach me. I’m a little rusty.”

He leaned back in his seat, his head bouncing as we drove through the woods. The plow came in handy; creating roads that would be easier for us to follow on our way back. “What’s eating at you, kid?”

He met my gaze in the mirror. “Are you and Elle still fighting?”

I cleared my throat. “We’re not fighting, we just disagree on some things.”

“It sounded like you were fighting,” he said. “Is it because of me?”

“No, bud. We aren’t fighting because of you or anyone else.” Elle hadn’t told me what was going on with Beau, but then things had escalated quickly and there hadn’t really been an opportunity for that. “Why would we be fighting about you, Beau?”

“She doesn’t like the wolves.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighed. “She thinks they’re dangerous and doesn’t want me around them.”

“They’re really nice,” Thea chirped. “I like the black one the best.”

Beau smacked Thea on the arm and glared at her.

“Hey, no hitting,” I chided.

Beau crossed his arms over his chest. “You have such a big mouth,” he muttered, glaring at her.

“Nuh-uh.”

Beau rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

As Thea’s words sank in, I tapped on the breaks, bringing the truck to a stop. Then, I turned around in my seat. “You’ve been playing with the wolves?” I wasn’t sure why I was surprised. Beau had been pushing his luck with them for weeks.

“They won’t hurt me,” he grumbled, just like I had done when I was a pissed off and defiant at his age.

“Beau, they’re wild animals.” I pointed to Thea. “What about your sister? They aren’t pets. You guys could get hurt.”

“You don’t understand,” he growled. “How come Elle can use her power but I can’t use mine?”

“Your power?” I didn’t even know how to answer his questions.

“Yeah, Elle killed that guy with her bare hands and she’s not in trouble.”

“Elle did what she had to do to save you,” I reminded him. “She didn’t want to hurt those men.”

“Well, I know the wolves won’t hurt me either. It’s like the same thing.”

The image of a wolf mauling Beau made my stomach flip-flop and the hair on the back of my arms stand on end. “How do you know they won’t hurt you, Beau?”

“I just do,” he said, voice sharp with impatience. “Why won’t you guys trust me?”

“I’m sorry kid, wolves aren’t particularly cuddly animals. They’re not pets.”

“Well, mine are.”

Mine? I rubbed my forehead and continued down the trail left by the snowmobile. Things were getting weirder by the hour and I didn’t know how to navigate questions about how baby caribou were born let alone superpowers. “Does Elle know you’ve been playing with them?”

He met my gaze again and regrettably shook his head.

“I’ll tell you what,” I started, grasping at straws. “Tonight we’ll talk about it, okay? All of us, together. We’ll figure out what’s going on, and we’ll get some ground rules in place. But until then, no more playing with the wolves, okay?”

I brought the truck to a stop near the water’s edge where Took and Del had their snowmobile parked. Then, I turned around to face him. “Beau, do we have a deal?”

Reluctantly, he nodded.

“If you promise, I’ll take you hunting before I leave.”

His brow furrowed.

“What, suddenly you don’t want to go hunting anymore?”

“I do,” he said. “But . . . when are you leaving?”

My throat constricted, and I hated that it was becoming so difficult to talk about. “Soon,” I admitted. “But not for a few days at least. I’ll take you hunting before I go, okay?”

Beau nodded, but his heart wasn’t in it, and I felt the excitement of the day officially dampened. “Do you guys even want to fish anymore?”

“I do!” Thea chirped and she flung open the door.

I looked at Beau, praying we could salvage what was left of the late morning. Fishing was supposed to be a fun trip, but I hadn’t expected I’d have to address superpowers, wolves, and lady-fucking-phoenix, too. “You don’t have to,” I told him.

Beau stared at me for a few heartbeats. “I still want to fish,” he said. He climbed out of the back seat and shut the door.

I watched as he and Thea ran over to Took and Del unloading their things from the sled. Nothing was easy anymore. Everything that was supposed to be good was complicated; everything that was meant to be easy was problematic. The plan had been the same since day one and suddenly I had a fraying knot in the center of my stomach telling me it was wrong to leave. My best friend was alive and I should be more ecstatic. Elle killed my dad, which shouldn’t have felt okay, but I was glad she did. He would’ve killed her instead, and I would’ve never known her or the kids; they’d never have been a part of my life.

I wanted to be angry at Elle for lying because it was easier than admitting I cared about her in a way that made me feel like a disloyal piece of shit to my dead wife’s memory.

Beau stepped in front of the truck and tapped the hood. “Come look!”

I climbed out of the truck, grabbed the tackle box from the passenger seat and the poles from the back, determined to enjoy the day like we’d come out to do. The rest could wait for a few hours. It had to. I needed a break.

“It’s so pretty!” Thea squealed, clapping her hands.

Took stood at the bank, pointing at a patch of sunlight. Ice crystals floated in the air around it like suspended, blinking diamonds.

“They’re called dust diamonds,” Took said with a crooked smile. “We only get ‘em a couple times a year, when the weather clears up. It’s one of Jade’s favorite things.”

“I’ve never actually seen them before,” I admitted. “My mom used to tell me stories about it though. She said the ice danced to the silent song of sunlight.”

“It does look like they’re dancing,” Thea said, voice radiating with awe. “Is this what heaven looks like in the daytime?” We hadn’t talked about death much, even though it had surrounded us all winter.

I didn’t know what heaven looked like, or if it existed, but I agreed, it would be a beautiful place if it did. “I hope so. What do you think it looks like at nighttime?”

“The lights, silly. Like Jade said.”

I smiled. “How could I forget?”

Inhaling the sharp scent of ice and evergreen, I soaked in the snow-capped mountains that surrounded us, and the crystalline sky that shimmered.

“We picked a good day to come,” Beau said.

“We sure did,” I said, content.

Del used the ice spud to measure the thickness a few yards out on the lake. The sun had been shining longer and higher in the sky, but the world was taking its time to melt. But like every natural part of Alaska it was hard to predict, and we had no idea what was already shifting under the frozen surface of the water.

“Some ice is thicker than others, you guys. Stay in the areas where Del is putting the holes, okay?”

They nodded, and I pointed to a prickly, fallen tree angled half frozen in the water, a perfect haven for bottom feeders and shadow dwellers. “What about there, Del?”

“Yeah, we’ll get nibbles in the debris for sure,” he called. “It’s just over five inches. It’s safe, but be careful.” He began to pick a fishing hole in the ice with the chisel.

“All right you two, you heard him.” I handed the kids their poles. “Stay in these areas. The last thing I need is one of you falling in.”

“Oh, man.” Thea giggled. “That would be so cold.”

“Yeah, and Elle would kill me,” I told her. “So be careful.”

“Where are the fishing jigs we carved last night?” Took grumbled, searching through their toolbox.

Beau opened our tackle box. “Right here.” Careful, so as not to hook himself, he handed Thea hers and studied his own.

“Alaskans have been carving their own jigs for thousands of years,” I told them. “You couldn’t have a better teacher than Took, I’m sure.”

Thea looked up at me, blinking as she mouthed thousands with awe.

“Let me see your handiwork.” I crouched down between them. To a fish, their jigs would look like a piece of driftwood, but they weren’t bad for a nine- and six-year-old’s first time. “I didn’t have fancy poles like you growing up, but that’s another skill for another time.”

I grabbed a container of frozen guts to use as bait while Took helped them attach their jigs to the fishing line.

“Some guts for you,” I said, handing a frozen piece to Beau. “And, some guts for you . . .” Thea’s face crinkled with disgust, but she didn’t hesitate to take it.

“It’s not so bad when it’s frozen,” Beau told her.

“Okay now, shove them on your hook and we’ll let it dangle in the hole just a little, so that other fish will think it’s still alive.”

Thea pursed her lips as she struggled to bait her hook. It got stuck to her mitten, but she was determined to do it on her own.

“Ready!” Del said. “Come pick your holes.”

Thea chose her hole first, and Took helped her drop her line. Del helped Beau with his, and I grabbed a stick as thick as my finger from the bank and tied fishing line around it, making a rod of my own.

“What kinda fish are we getting?” Beau asked. He stood there with his fishing pole in hand, waiting.

“Oh, well,” Del said. “I don’t know what we’ll get. Could be grayling or whitefish. And if we’re lucky, maybe even trout.”

“That’s my favorite,” I told them.

“Don’t all fish taste the same?” Beau asked. “They’re all fish.”

Took chuckled to himself and straightened, stretching out his crooked, old back.

“No,” Del said. “They don’t all taste the same. You’ll see.”

“I had a fish once,” Thea said. “Fuzzbucket ate it though.”

“What’s a Fuzzbucket?” Took asked. “A bigger fish?”

“It’s a cat, silly.” Thea laughed.

“Oh. Okay.” He eyed her skeptically.

I crouched down over my own hole and braced my stick over it, making sure the line went as far down as possible to float with the water, which I would check on later.

Once the rods rested in carved out holes and the lines were set, Took, Del, and I made camp on the bank. We unfolded chairs and built a fire to blazing, simple and quiet, just as I’d hoped it would be.

“Now what do we do?” Thea plodded over, her braids hanging messily on each side of her face.

I tugged her beanie down further over her pink ears. “We keep warm and wait for the fish to come.”

“But . . .” She pursed her lips in disapproval. “But that’s boring.”

Chuckling, the guys and I looked at each other. “That’s fishing, Thea. It’s a game of patience.”

“Well, then this was a mistake,” Beau muttered. “Thea sucks at patience.”

“I do not,” she retorted.

“Do too.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay you guys,” I said. “No bickering while we’re fishing. It’s one of two rules.”

“What’s the other?” Beau asked.

“Safety,” I told them.

“Well, it’s his fault,” she retorted, walking back out to her hole. “I’m going to wait for my fish.”

“Don’t touch mine,” Beau told her and followed after her.

“I have hot chocolate when you want some,” I said. “And snacks.”

“Okay,” they called, but I was officially an afterthought to them.

“Don’t they know a watched pot never boils?” Took asked, shaking his head.

“They’ll get it, eventually, just like Jet did.” Del nodded with certainty. “You’ll see.”

“At first I thought it was beginner’s luck,” Took added. “Suddenly he was catching all the fish.” He batted the notion away. “I stopped fishing with him.”

“Ouch.” I chuckled.

“Jet had patience, Took. You’re like Thea when it comes to fishing. I’m surprised you enjoy it.”

“I don’t. Just because I know how doesn’t mean I like it.”

Del threw his hands up with a chuckle. “Then why do you do it all the time?”

“Because you like it. I’m not sending you out here alone.”

Del and Took bickered back and forth, half as bad as Thea and Beau, and I admired their relationship as much as I envied it. The more I watched them and heard their stories, the more I looked forward to having happy, memorable stories of my own one day.

“So, Elle said you might leave soon.” Del poked the fire with a long stick. “You still going to Whitehorse?”

I stared into the embers, uncertain how to answer. “That was the plan.”

“Was?” Took raised his eyebrows, looking more perturbed than curious.

“Was. Is. I’m not sure which.”

Del leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Pardon my prying, but seems like if you’re uncertain, it might not be the right answer.”

“Yeah, well, things are—”

“Complicated,” Del and Took finished in unison.

“Elle keeps saying the same thing,” Took grumbled. “Life is complicated. You still gotta make decisions. Do you want them to be good ones or bad ones? I’ll tell you what the bad ones are—”

“Please excuse my father-in-law, he thinks highly of his own opinion.”

“Well, I’m not sorry,” Took said tersely. “In the grand scheme of things, it’s really not that complicated. Do you want to be alone or be with people you care about? Trust me, time flies and all that.”

“I get what you’re saying, Took, but—” I glanced out at the ice and rose to my feet. “Where are the kids?”

“Probably just exploring,” Took said. “That’s what I’d be doing.”

I walked out onto the ice, relieved to see their poles were there and they hadn’t fallen in. I glanced around the frozen lake. They weren’t out in the middle of the ice, which had been my fear. I headed toward the curve in the bank, and was about to call for them, when I saw Thea sitting at the water’s edge through a thicket. I prepared my scolding speech to give them for going off on their own when I saw something move in front of her. I took a few steps closer.

My gaze latched onto a twig that spun around and around on the ice in front of her, moving at the same pace her finger twirled. I blinked, barely able to believe my own eyes, and couldn’t open my mouth to say a single anything.

Beau walked further out onto the ice with a much larger branch and stopped a few yards out. “Try to roll this one back to you,” he told her, gaze narrowed on the branch intently. “It’s the biggest one so far.”

Though I felt the need to caution them, I couldn’t look away either. Thea could move things with her mind. Elle was right, it was all impossible. All of it was, and until yesterday, I would’ve thought Thea was crazy had I not seen it for myself.

I held my breath as Thea squeezed her eyes shut, then blinked them open in concentration. The log at Beau’s feet moved, only trembling at first. But as Thea continued to stare at it, it hedged and began to roll slowly toward her.

“You did it!” Beau shouted, but his excitement was short lived. When he noticed me watching him, he leapt into a run to get off the ice, and his foot went straight through. He screamed as he fell into the water.

“Beau!” I shouted and took off running. “Fuck—”

Thea screamed from the top of her lungs as she ran to where the water sloshed over the ice. “Get back!” I told her, and fell to my knees when I reached the hole. I couldn’t see him through the murky water. There was no flailing, and the horror he might not know how to swim eviscerated any shock immobilizing me.

I jumped into the water after him. It was so intensely cold, it felt like I was surrounded by fire and a net of razor blades. I didn’t see Beau at first and panic was a blaring cry as I tried to focus in the icy water. My eyes burned. My fingers and legs were numb. But as the ice was chipped away from the surface, I could see more clearly. The white of Beau’s jacket against the darkness floated like it was suspended in the air, and Beau wasn’t moving.

I pulled my body through the water without thought, clutching Beau’s hand in mine as I forced my limbs to send me to the surface. Arms reached into the water next, helping me pull him to the top. Del and Took lifted Beau out first, then their hands frantically grabbed at me as I used every ounce of willpower I had left to kick and pull myself out of the water.

The hard ice felt like a miracle, almost warm against my freezing skin, and I peered around for Beau. “Is he breathing?” I cried as Took helped me onto my knees. “Is he breathing!” I shouted and scrambled over to the bank where Del crouched over Beau’s body.

“Del,” I pleaded. “Is he breathing?”

Thea cried behind me, screaming her brother’s name, and all I could think was I’d been too stupid and slow to react. I should’ve gotten him off the ice. I should’ve jumped in faster.

“He’s only . . . in shock,” I prayed, my voice frozen in my throat. Every ounce of training I’d had was like a rock sunk to the bottom of my gut; my head was empty and the energy that was left drained from my body as hot tears streamed down my face.

Finally, Beau doubled over, gasping for air as he choked up water.

“Oh, thank God,” I breathed. “Thank God.” I held his forehead against mine and pulled him against me, trying to warm him. “Are you okay? You scared the shit out of me.”

“I—I think so,” he chattered. Took held Thea in his arms, trying to console her as she cried.

“He’s okay, Thea,” I told her, but it was hard to believe myself.

“Here,” Del said, removing his coat. “We’ve got to get you guys warmed up.”

I helped Beau to his feet, ignoring the ache in my body as I stood and lifted him in my arms to carry him toward our camp. “Sit next to the fire,” I told him, setting him down in one of the chairs. “We’ll get you something warm to wear, okay bud?”

Beau nodded, shivering but alive and okay.

“Del, get his clothes off, would you? I might have something in the truck we can use.”

“What about you?” Del said. “You need dry clothes too.”

“Yeah, him first though,” I called over my shoulder.

Del murmured about wet socks and boots as I opened the truck for an extra jacket or flannel. Finding a towel and dirty thermal shirt, I grabbed them and shut the door.

“This is all I could find—” I stopped at the front of the truck, my body ice cold while fear burned red and hot straight through me. A black wolf crept out of the woods, furtively glancing around at us as it timidly made its way toward Beau.

Slowly, Del stepped toward the gun propped against a spruce a few feet away. He looked at me, and as crazy as it was, I shook my head.

The wolf stopped at Beau’s feet and licked his shaking hand with a whine.

On trembling legs, Beau climbed out of the chair and plopped down on the ground beside the fire. The wolf waited for him to settle in—half-naked by the flames—and it laid against Beau’s little body to keep him warm.

“It chose him,” Took whispered, pulling me out of my trance.

“What?” I shivered, but as my body numbed, I wasn’t sure if it was from cold or sheer awe.

Del lifted the discarded jacket off the ground. “It looks like the kid’s got it covered. You’re the one we have to worry about now.”

54

Elle

April 15

“Now, we let the fat boil and the rendered tallow that comes to the top will become our wax once it hardens,” Jade explained. “We can get a dozen candles out of this batch, and all the membrane and meat that’s left, we’ll freeze for Koda’s food during the winter.”

“It’s as easy as that?” I stared at the empty mason jars on the table, and the thin wooden wicks piled beside them.

“It’s messy, but yes. It’s fairly straightforward—”

Koda barked outside as the truck and snowmobiles rumbled closer.

“They’re back early,” Jade mused. Wiping our hands off on our aprons, we headed for the front door.

The instant I saw Beau was in the truck bed, wearing clothes that were too big and hair stuck in a frozen mess, I knew something was wrong.

I stepped off the porch as Jackson climbed out of the passenger side of the Tacoma, his clothes stuck to him and covered with frost.

“What—”

“I’m fine,” he said, pointing behind him. “We need to get Beau inside.” There was a frustration in his voice I wasn’t sure was aimed at me, but I didn’t argue.

I hurried around the bed of the truck and nearly fell back. “Oh my,” I breathed, my hand clamping over my mouth. A black wolf lay beside Beau, its yellow eyes lifting as we gathered around, though it didn’t lift its head or bare its teeth like I expected it to do.

Beau quivered a little, draped in an oversized coat that shook around his shoulders, but his skin was pink and full of color.

Jade gasped beside me, none of us moving.

“Jackson,” I whispered, uncertain what to do.

“It’s been keeping Beau warm since we pulled him out of the water,” Del explained as he shut the driver side door of the truck.

“Time to go inside, bud,” Jackson said, coming around to the tailgate. He nodded to Beau as if they’d had an agreement.

Beau nudged the wolf, and though it seemed inconvenienced having to move, it stood up and jumped out of the back of the truck. Beau scooted to the edge of the tailgate, held out his hand, and the wolf stepped closer for Beau to pet the top of its head. The wolf’s eyes closed and its ears flattened, and for a few breaths I watched as Beau and the wolf had a silent communication.

Then the wolf’s eyes darted around at us, it trotted past Koda’s kennel, and disappeared into the woods.

I gathered Beau against me, ignoring the twinge in my side as I squeezed. “Are you okay?” He was warm, despite his hair frozen on end. I desperately wanted to lift him into my arms, but refrained. “What happened?” I pulled back, waiting for him to say something, but he only glanced at Jackson before sliding onto the ground.

Jade reached out to offer Beau her hand. “Let’s get you all bundled up inside and warm,” she said.

Sophie and Alex ran over, Alex’s eyes trained on the forest. “What the hell was that?”

Sophie took Thea’s hand in hers. “Sounds like you had an interesting morning.”

“Yeah,” Thea murmured. “It was really scary.” Alex followed them inside, the air buzzing with questions and curiosities, but my mind was still reeling as I watched them disappear into the house.

Although I could fill in some of the missing pieces, I wasn’t sure how or why Jackson and Beau had fallen into the water, and the remnants of what happened—Thea’s face still red from crying, and Beau and Jackson soaked to the bone—I couldn’t help the uneasiness that settled in a little deeper.

The door had barely closed when Del popped back out in a new jacket and settled his cap back on his head. “We still have gear at the lake and a snowmobile. We’ll be back.”

As Del closed the Tacoma door, I sidled up to the window, glancing between him and Took, though both of them tried to avoid my gaze. “What happened?” My voice was surprisingly calm, and I peered past them at Jackson heading to the smaller cabin. “Is Jackson all right?”

“Physically, they’re both fine.” Del’s choice of words didn’t put me much at ease.

Took nodded in Jackson’s direction, offering me a silent nudge, then the truck rumbled to life, and Del rolled up the window. And as quickly as they had driven into camp, they followed their tracks back out again and disappeared through the trees.

I considered going inside to check on Beau, but there were enough people fussing over him, so I headed toward the cabin. My heartbeat thudded like a bass drum and I braced myself for whatever might transpire between Jackson and me when I stepped inside. He probably didn’t want to see me, but I cared too much to let him be.

I creaked the door open. Jackson stood half-clothed in wet pants beside the wood stove. He shivered as he stared at the wall, ice frozen to his mustache and hardened to his pants. I didn’t bombard him with questions I knew he wasn’t ready to answer, so I grabbed a folded quilt from the bed and shook it out. Standing on tiptoes, I tried to drape it over his bare shoulders, struggling as my side twinged.

Jackson reached out for the blanket, pulling it around him haphazardly. He didn’t look at me though, just stared at the fireplace. Lost. In shock. Maybe even angry still.

“Take your pants off,” I whispered, and went over to his bag for a pair of sweats and wool socks. “You need to get out of those clothes.” I placed them on the bed next to a thermal shirt for him to change into and opened the woodstove to build a fire. My hands moved quickly. Splinters and scratches weren’t something I had to worry about, though my gloves were plenty scarred and discolored from so much use. Shoving tinder beneath the crossed wood, I lit it with a match and breathed life to the bourgeoning flames.

Eventually, Jackson dressed behind me, unhurried and wordless. One boot scuffed the floor, then another, as he took them off. The floorboards creaked under his weight, and then heavy, soggy clothes thudded to the floor.

I rubbed my gloved hands together against the growing warmth, acutely aware of the irony as I tried to keep my mind from wandering. The fire may have sizzled in my veins, but the flush of my skin seemed to deepen as I realized this was the first time Jackson and I had been alone in so long I couldn’t remember. It felt different than before—charged from the turbulence of the days passed and uncharted.

Once he finished changing, and the flames were roaring, I closed the stove door and looked back at him. Though Jackson stood tall and his presence often filled the room, he seemed different. An emotion I hadn’t seen before eclipsed his hazel eyes. Instead of haunted by the past, he looked dazed and uncertain.

I stood and stepped toward him. “Are you okay?” Hesitantly, I rested my hand on his arm, offering whatever reassurance I could.

Jackson’s eyebrows drew together, almost painfully, and his gaze drifted to my hand. I was about to remove it when he took my wrist, stared at my glove, then began to pull it off.

“No—” I tried to tug away, but he whispered my name and I stilled. With bated breath, I stared into his eyes. He was completely still. Determined.

Slowly, he inched the glove from my fingers. The air was cool against my skin as the glove dropped to the floor, and my eyes fluttered closed at the relief I felt. I took them off sometimes, but only when I dared to chance the outcome and was alone.

Jackson placed my hand against his chest and my eyes fluttered open. His chest was solid and cold, and I could feel the rhythmic thud of his heart against my palm.

Bah-bum. Bah-bum. Bah-bum.

His eyes closed, and he spread his freezing palm over mine. I could feel the cold waning from his fingers as the heat from my hand seeped into him. Jackson calmed me in a way I never understood, and in a frisson of desire and curiosity, I pressed my fingertips more firmly against his chest, letting a flood of heat fill us both. I wasn’t afraid, but content.

“What’s happening to us?” he whispered, lifting my hand from his chest. He stared down at it, lost in wonder. Any uneasiness from before was gone.

“I don’t know.” My voice was quiet but seemed to echo in the room. “I’ve been trying to figure that out myself.”

Jackson blinked at me, his lashes wet but no longer icy, and water dripped from his beard onto my boot. “I didn’t know if he would be okay,” he finally said, his voice thin.

“Beau? He’ll be fine,” I told him. “He had a wolf blanket to keep him warm.” I lifted my shoulder with a slight smile, like it was just an ordinary day.

Jackson’s brow puckered again and he let go of my hand. “Thea moved a log with her mind,” he said.

My eyes widened. That was a new one I hadn’t heard yet. And I couldn’t help but smile. “Really?”

He nodded slowly, and his frown deepened. “When they caught me watching, Beau ran for the bank and the ice broke under him.”

“And let me guess, you jumped in after him,” I said knowingly. That’s what Jackson did, he saved people, even if he didn’t realize it. All of us were proof of that. “I guess all of our secrets are out now. What’s yours?”

He shook his head. “I have no idea. I don’t think I have one.”

Thoughtful quietness surrounded us, broken only by the crackling wood and a sigh as Jackson sat down in the chair. “What now?” he asked. He picked my glove up from the floor and handed it to me.

“Well, I’ll get a towel for your defrosted hair for starters,” I teased. I grabbed a towel from the clean stack by the door. “And we need to talk, all of us.” I handed him a worn, brown towel fraying on the ends. “I’ll give you some space.”

I turned to leave and Jackson reached for my hand again. “Elle?”

“Yes?”

His eyes sought mine, and he squeezed my hand, rubbing his thumb over my wrist. “Thank you.”

My chest warmed, and I exhaled a shaky breath of relief. It was a look of forgiveness and gratitude, and I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

55

Sophie

April 15

“Where are my pants?” Thea groaned, glancing around the room with her hands on her hips.

“Here.” I pulled them out from under my sweatshirt on the floor. “Clean socks are in your bag.”

Privacy was something you sort of forfeited when you lived with so many people, especially since being safe meant sticking together. That’s why the girls dressed first, then we switched with the boys. It was our current routine, though revisions tended to happen quickly as our location changed.

As an only child, I’d always had privacy. Well, not where my mom was concerned. She hovered, making sure I did my homework and showered—like I needed reminding—and did my leg stretches that hadn’t been necessary for eight years. She didn’t want all of our hard work and the physical therapy she’d paid for to get my weak legs in tip-top shape to go to waste. Part of me wondered if that’s why it was so hard to lose her.

My mom had been a nagging reminder of everything I needed to do, hadn’t done, and would one day become. Without her, I wasn’t sure who I was. I’d spent my teen years pushing back, trying to prove I wasn’t a baby girl anymore and would never be her perfect Sophie. Not having her around made me feel like I was just sort of . . . lost.

When I first started seeing and feeling other people’s memories, I thought it was just my mind breaking down and my weakness showing through, and that was the hardest part to imagine. I’d always felt like the weak link and now, when I needed to be strong to survive, it wasn’t just my bones I had to worry about anymore, it was my mind, too. If I’d had Elle’s power I wouldn’t have to worry about shrinking away at someone’s touch or going out of my way to avoid them.

“Ready!” Thea chirped.

“Switch!” I called, and Elle creaked the door open to find the three guys sitting on the step, patiently waiting.

“Done!” Thea sang.

Alex looked at his imaginary watch as he stood up. “You almost beat your record.”

“Ah, see Thea,” I nudged her. “We are getting faster.” Being around Thea and Beau was easier, and I wasn’t sure why exactly, only that their memories didn’t seep into me, ringing me out from the inside. I had a feeling it had to do with their resilient ability to keep moving forward and not overthink and hold onto things.

Alex sidestepped me as us girls filed out the door. He grinned, of course, because that’s what Alex did. He acted like life was what it was and you had to roll with the punches. Inside, though, he was all about survival. Each day was about proving his worth and that meant being the person he thought we all wanted him to be, and hiding from his past. Being with all of us had given him a purpose for the first time in his life, but now I could learn things he didn’t want me to. So he kept his distance, and things were different between us. Already seeing so much about him, I anticipated that would be his reaction when he learned what I could do, and it’s part of why I kept my silence for as long as I could.

A logical person would understand why he was wary, and of course I did, but the distance still stung. I wasn’t just a random person he wanted to keep secrets from, I was supposed to be his friend—more than that in some ways—after all we’d been through. We’d had a connection since the day we met, and suddenly none of it mattered. I had become something else to him; no longer just Sophie, but dangerous Sophie.

“You better hurry,” Thea sang through the door. “If we beat you, you’re making us breakfast tomorrow.”

“I’m already making you breakfast tomorrow,” Alex called back.

“Besides,” Beau griped. “That wasn’t part of the bet.”

I leaned against the porch post and stared up at the sky. The night was cold, the air crisp. A few clouds dappled the inky blue, moving quickly across the moon.

Jade, Took, and Del asked very few questions, though all of them had seen enough to know we were different than they were. They didn’t know about my touch, but I’d been careful to keep my distance as much as possible. It felt wrong to touch them, to see their private lives—especially since what happened with Jet. I couldn’t control the things that I saw, at least not yet, and I didn’t want to trespass more than I already had. I thought maybe it was the memories closest to the surface that I felt most, but without practicing I couldn’t be sure. And if I was honest, I didn’t want to have to hold any more fear or pain. My mind was already chock-full, and it was difficult to ignore. So I kept my hands to myself as much as I could.

“The coast is clear,” Alex said, opening the door. “And we made excellent time.”

“I don’t know,” Thea drawled, and she pointed at Beau who was still pulling his shirt down. “He’s not even ready!”

“Yeah-huh,” Beau said.

“Nuh-uh—”

“How about we call it a tie tonight, guys?” Elle prompted. “We’re all tired and we can start again tomorrow.”

Jackson closed the door to the wood stove, still in his sweats from earlier. He’d been shaken up after what happened at the lake, but it was nice to see he was finally coming around—a little worse for wear. Beau was the one who fell in, and he was unfazed, maybe even relieved to show everyone he was right about the wolves. Of course Beau could talk to wolves, Thea could move things with her mind, and Elle could kill a man with a single touch. While I carried the burden of it all—me, the weak one—as if it was my own. I fleetingly wondered if my mom would be proud.

“Everyone grab a seat,” Jackson said.

Thea and I crawled up onto the bed where Beau already sat, fluffing his pillow. Alex took his cot under the window.

“Before everyone goes to sleep,” Elle started, standing at the foot of the bed. “We need to talk about all the new things that are happening.” She met Jackson’s gaze as he laid the pallet of sleeping bags out on the floor.

“We never talked about what I did to that man in Slana,” she said.

Beau stiffened beside me, which was strange, but then he’d watched Elle fry a man, which wasn’t something I liked to relive either.

“You did it to protect us,” Beau said. “You had to.”

“Yes, I did it to protect us, but we all know that killing isn’t okay, right?”

“I know I wasn’t there,” Alex said, elbows resting on his knees. “But what are you worried about? That we’re scared of you or that we think it’s okay to kill people?”

“Both, I guess. We’ve seen a lot of death, and we’ve been very afraid.”

“Of the bad people,” Beau said.

“Yes, there are bad people, and the things we can do now can hurt people, so we have to be careful because there are good people too, like the Ranskins. We can’t walk around pretending we know what we’re doing and how to control it, especially around Jade, Took, and Del because they might get hurt. Do you agree?”

I nodded with the kids. Even if my ability couldn’t physically hurt them, the emotional scars people carried were their own to bear, and I had no business intruding.

Elle looked at Beau. “Are there any other animals or capabilities you’ve discovered we should know about?”

He shook his head. “Just the wolves . . .”

But Beau didn’t seem certain, something we all seemed to pick up on. Elle tilted her head. “There’s nothing else, Beau. What about you, Thea? We won’t be angry. We want to help each other.”

Beau looked at his sister, his chest rising and falling more quickly.

Thea stared at him and I could practically feel their worry buzzing in the air between them.

“I heard you can do something pretty dang cool, Thea. You can tell us,” I said and ran my fingers through Thea’s brown hair.

In an instant, Beau was standing over Thea’s bed, his pajamas wrinkled but his coat was on. “Get up. Come on—we have to go!”

She climbed out, head fuzzy and skin still hot with fever, but Thea did what her big brother commanded.

“Mom says the bad guys are coming,” he told her and took her hand in his.

I blinked. The memory shifting in a flash.

Frigid, howling wind whipped through a dark hallway. The way only lit by Beau’s flashlight as he hurried ahead. Debris littered the ground—crumbled concrete and copper piping. His hand was in his mother’s. It was Katie, my teacher, alive. Her blonde hair was disheveled, her pajamas soiled.

“Mama, what’s wrong with you? Where are we going?” Beau hurried obediently beside her, trying to match her pace.

“Shut up and hurry,” she told him. “We have to hurry . . .”

Graffiti covered the cement wall, and I could almost feel the coldness of the wind against my skin. Katie glanced back. Her brown eyes were bloodshot and sores dotted the corners of her mouth. “They’re coming,” she warned, panic in her voice. “The bad men are coming.”

Thea moved as fast as her little legs would carry her, petrified of the bad men coming, but it wasn’t fast enough. “Hurry!” Katie shouted, reaching back with spindly fingers, nails bit to the quick. Thea whimpered, her head a throbbing mess of hazy confusion and fear. Katie grabbed hold of Thea’s arm, tugging her forward. “I said they’re coming,” she muttered. “The bad men are coming!”

Thea stiffened against her mother’s touch, and Katie tugged her harder and more ferociously.

“You’re hurting her,” Beau cried, tears in his eyes. “Mama, you’re hurting Thea!”

“Stop being a little brat!” Katie shouted, dragging Thea up the flight of stairs, as Thea kicked and pulled to get away.

Beau shouted and pulled at her to let go of his sister, but Katie shoved him into the wall, oblivious as he fell to the ground.

“Stop it!” Katie screeched at Thea. “Stop it! We’re almost there—”

“No!” The more Thea struggled against her, trying to pry her mother’s fingers from her wrist, the more terrified and obstinate Thea became. The haziness began to vanish from her mind.

Thea’s panic was like a shock wave coursing through me. It wasn’t Mrs. Gunderson snarling at them. It wasn’t even their mom. She was a woman so sick I prayed the inevitable end would come already.

They were in a room.

Thea stood shaking in a doorway as her mother demanded them to jump. “It’s the only way,” she said. “It will be like flying.” She peered out the broken window.

“Come, Beau.” Katie tried to grab him but he stepped away.

“No!” he shouted at her. No longer sobbing with fear, but determined to protect his sister. “Come on, Thea,” he said, choking in a breath.

Thea shook with cold as he reached for her, the chill seeping through the floor and into her boots, chasing away the final remnants of the fever.

“Get back here!” Katie shouted, and she grabbed onto Beau’s hood and tugged him so hard he fell back and hit his head.

“Stop it!” Thea shouted, eyes blurred with tears. The shock, the fever—all of it wearing off as she realized it wasn’t her mother standing in front of her. Thea ran to Beau to help him up, but Katie reached for him first. Grabbing hold of Beau’s jacket, she tugged him toward the window.

“If you won’t jump—I’ll push you out!” And as Beau’s pleas and Thea’s screams comingled, I could feel the shift in the room.

The air in Thea’s lungs caught and her thoughts hardened with resolve. Desperate to make her mother listen and disappear, Thea began to scream. She screamed so loudly her mother’s body lifted off the floor and was flying out the window before Thea even understood what was happening.

Eyes blurred with tears, I blinked myself back to the cabin. It was warm, Beau and Thea were safe, and Elle was still talking as if only seconds had passed. “Jackson said you moved a branch with your mind.” Elle’s voice was easy and open, even excited. “Is there anything else you can do?”

I wiped the moisture from my eyes and forced myself to breathe, rooting myself back to the moment. That I’d felt anything from Thea at all was new, but that she and Beau had been carrying their mother’s final hours around like a buried secret was indescribable.

“Um, well—” Thea looked at Beau for approval. He shrugged, and Thea licked her lips, glancing furtively around the room. “I can do things like this,” she said, making a piece of firewood tremble in the basket.

Elle and Alex’s eyes widened.

“Sometimes I can move things, but only when I’m really scared or thinking really, really hard.” She fidgeted with her fingers in her lap, eyes darting around at everyone.

“You mean, you could’ve been doing my chores this whole time?” Alex teased.

Thea looked at Beau again, waiting for him to say something, but he just stared down at his hands, disappearing inside himself before my eyes.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” I told Thea, barely able to get the words out. “We all love you, both of you. And we know you’re good. You’d never do anything bad you didn’t have to do.” A tear escaped my lashes and I wiped it hastily away.

Elle studied me, brow furrowed.

“You can tell them,” I urged them both.

Beau looked at me, understanding widening his eyes.

I nodded for him to take the leap. “I’m right here.” I forced a reassuring smile and rubbed his shoulder, pushing the flicker of emotion I felt away with all my might. I needed to be here with them in this moment.

Thea licked her lips and took a deep breath. “One time,” Thea said with a ragged breath. “I saved Beau from the bad lady.” Her eyes shimmered. “I thought it was a bad dream,” she added. But as she sat there, really thinking about it, I saw the realization dawn in her brown eyes. Even though she understood the fever and had understood what happened to her mom, the weight of what she’d done finally began to settle over her. Then, her chin trembled and she began to cry.

Hating my power and every horrible thing that came with it, I wrapped my arms around Thea and pulled her closer, trying to ignore anything she’d unwittingly let me see. “It’s okay,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut. I wanted her to feel my love, so she could feel something good and true.

“It was an accident,” Beau bleated, beside us. “She didn’t mean to do it.” When I opened my eyes, his face was red with tears and he balled the blanket up in his hand.

“Hey, kid,” Jackson said, crossing the room. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.” He took Beau’s hands in his, so tiny in comparison, and rubbed Beau’s shoulder as he sniffled back tears. “We aren’t mad at you or Thea.”

As I wiped the tears from my eyes, Alex looked at me, his own eyes glistening in the firelight. The day he found Beau and Thea, Alex had told me about their mom’s body, and about their strange silence and secrecy. I knew Katie had lost her mind, I just didn’t realize . . . I hadn’t thought . . .

Elle looked at me, distraught and lost, but I couldn’t bring myself to say the words aloud. I was losing count of how many times it felt like my heart had broken, but it cracked and everything strong inside of me poured out.

Half sitting on the bed, Jackson wrapped his arms around Beau and let him cry into his chest.

“She was sick,” Beau explained through choked sobs.

Understanding widened Elle’s eyes and she covered her mouth with her hand. Everyone had thought she’d killed herself in front of her children, but the truth was far worse, and whatever was happening to us, this was only the beginning.

56

Jackson

April 16

It was past midnight when the kids finally zonked out. Elle and I sat on the floor against the wall in companionable silence. I leaned back, my arms draped over my knees, completely spent of every possible emotion as a result of the past few hours. Grief and exhaustion. Anger. Fear and uncertainty. Love and understanding. More than anything, I was broken hearted for Thea and Beau.

“I hadn’t seen that coming,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

“Me either.”

Snot and tears stained both of our shirts and I had to chuckle to myself. Four months ago, I hadn’t expected to be taking care of kids, let alone to feel so endeared to them. Now, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I looked at Elle. Her cheeks were rosy from the heat of the room, and her hair was in a disheveled ponytail that hung messily around her ears. She crossed her legs out in front of her and sighed. She was barefoot and wearing a t-shirt and sweats. I could imagine her at home this way, hair mussed, eyes gleaming in the flickering light. She’d spent the past months working her fingers to the bone—chopping firewood, insulating bedrooms, and lugging around 30-liter jugs of drinking water. But like this, still and thoughtful beside me, there was a softness about her I’d rarely seen before. It made me want to touch her skin, but I looked away instead.

“They need to practice what they can do,” I said. “All of them. They need to know how to use their capabilities and how to control them.”

“We all do.” She looked at me. “Even you. I mean, there has to be something, Jackson. You can’t be the only one without a power.”

“My power is that I worry,” I told her. “I have the ulcer to prove it.”

She nudged me and heaved out a breath.

For the first time in months, I felt like I could let my mind rest for a little while, like there wasn’t something looming overhead, and I closed my eyes and let the feeling sink in.

“I worry too,” Elle whispered. “Sophie told me something once, right before the accident. She said, there are good guys and bad guys.”

“Always,” I breathed, letting my eyes flutter closed. “We know some survivors are homicidal, out there sniffing the air for their next victim.” My eyes popped open, remembering what she’d told me about the man in Slana,

“But,” she said, “if we’re the good guys, how are we going to protect each other from the bad ones?”

“Other than practicing what you all can do? The five of you would be a force to reckon with. Especially if Alex can draw powers from all of you—the bad guys wouldn’t stand a chance—”

“Jackson, I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

Elle dropped her head in her hands and groaned. “Sometimes I’m so scared.”

All of us were scared all the time, but it was the first time I’d heard Elle say it out loud.

She looked at me, lips pursed as she inhaled a deep breath. “What if there are bad guys in Hartley.”

“You could decide not to go,” I told her, tired of fighting every part of me that wanted to make all of this work. “We could come up with a different plan, together.”

I half expected her to smile with relief, but instead, she frowned. “What about, you know . . .” She hesitated. “Your dad and—”

I leaned my head back against the wall. “You were right, this is bigger than us. I don’t want to dwell in the past anymore. I want to do something that feels right for a change and whatever all of this is, it feels like this is it. Maybe this is the family I was meant to have.” The words were toxic and I cleared my throat. I hadn’t meant to say that, and it felt wrong. But even as my eyes blurred, it also felt true. “I think Hannah would want me to do this.”

Elle’s eyes lingered on me for a few seconds, then she looked at the kids, still sleeping in their beds. She remained quiet, which I appreciated. I was confused enough without her questions.

The kids’ chests rose and fell slowly, sounds of their soft breaths filling the small room. “I wish I could sleep like that,” Elle said, smiling contentedly at the kids. “They’re down for the count.”

“Are you still having trouble sleeping?” I asked. There had been so much moving and commotion since we arrived, I wasn’t sure.

“Yes, a little. But it’s not like it was before.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “I used to see things and have lucid dreams where my stepfather stood at my bed—I hated thinking about him . . . remembering.” She blinked and shook her head. “It’s not like that anymore. My mind just won’t shut off. Lack of sleep is definitely catching up with me though,” she said with a yawn.

It was difficult to picture a frightened Elle, lying in her bed, and yet I wanted to comfort her all the same. I just wasn’t sure how, or that she even needed me to.

“It’s times like this I wish I still had a camera,” she mused, staring at Alex. His face was smooshed against his pillow, his mouth agape. “Incriminating evidence is fun.”

Climbing to my feet, I hauled myself over to my scavenging bag that hung on the wall of hooks and coats. In all the craziness, I’d forgotten about the camera. As quietly as I could, I pulled it out of my bag with one hand and grabbed the box of film, and then I shoved the dark chocolate Milky Way into my sweats pocket.

“I have no idea if this is any good,” I said, turning around. I held out my hands as I took a few steps closer. “But, I thought you might be able to use it.”

With another yawn, Elle looked at me. Her green eyes grew big and round. “What the hell . . .” A wide, toothy grin like I’d never seen consumed her face. “No way.” She climbed to her feet, practically stumbling in excitement. “And it’s analog?” She practically giggled as she took it greedily.

I grinned as she turned into a giddy school girl before my eyes. “I figured digital was pointless, but we’ll have to figure out how to develop the film.”

Elle turned the camera over in her hands, analyzing every number and every button. “This is a great camera.”

“Yeah, ten years ago.”

“No, still,” she insisted. “And the film will be easy to figure out.” She sighed, her smile still pinned from ear to ear. “I just—I can’t believe you got me a camera, that you even thought of it.”

“I might not’ve been sober all the time, but I was listening.” I pulled the Milky Way from my pocket.

“No way,” she chirped and covered her mouth immediately, glancing back at the kids. “It’s been months since I’ve had one of these.”

I’d never heard Elle laugh with pure joy—an excited-to-the-core laugh—and it made me happy.

She stepped closer, and leaned forward. My heartbeat skipped and my chest warmed as she pressed her lips to my cheek. Resting her warm palm on the side of my face, she whispered, “Thank you.”

I closed my eyes, soaking her in.

57

Jackson

April 16

Sitting in the chair beside the stove, I pulled my boots on by firelight. Like clockwork, I woke up with the sun. Spring made for longer days, which I was accustomed to when I was working. Spring also meant warmth and a break from the snow, so I welcomed it.

I peered down at Elle, curled up on the pallet, a canteen and her pistol beside her pillow as she slept. Unlike the rest of the clan wrapped in blankets, she wore a t-shirt and shorts, her blankets wrapped only around her feet.

As if she could feel my gaze on her, she stirred in her sleep, turning onto her back and folding her arms over her face. I smiled. Her gloves were still off. Maybe she finally trusted herself the way I trusted her, even if I knew what she could do was dangerous.

Schlepping into my jacket, I grabbed my rifle leaning against the doorframe. I reached for the door to head out for my predawn perimeter check when a groggy voice reached my ears. “Jackson?”

I turned around.

Beau sat up in bed, hair tousled as he rubbed his eyes. “Can I go with you?”

Relieved he wasn’t shying away after all that had happened last night, I nodded and pressed my finger to my lips.

Quietly and carefully, Beau climbed out of bed, glancing at his sister and at Sophie wrapped up in blankets beside him. Neither of the girls stirred.

Content to spend the morning with Beau after such a tumultuous twenty-four hours, I stepped outside to wait for him. The morning air was perfect. A refreshing jolt after a night of gut-wrenching revelations.

I knew Beau and Thea weren’t going to be okay, not deep down, after something like that. But at the same time, I didn’t know how to help them.

The door cracked open behind me, and Beau stepped outside, the floorboards creaking on the porch as he zipped up his jacket, his beanie in hand.

“You couldn’t sleep?” I whispered as I closed the door quietly behind him.

“Not really,” he said, but it wasn’t with sadness. Scanning the gray morning, he stepped off the porch into the snow, and tugged his beanie over his head.

“Ah, I see.” I lifted an eyebrow, staring down at him. “Too excited about your new friends?”

Beau shrugged, like he didn’t care, but I knew better than that. “You can be happy about your power, Beau.” I realized that it might feel wrong to find joy in one’s own ability if everyone else was scared of what they could do. “You just have to be smart—and careful,” I added.

He blinked up at me, eyes cloudy with sleep, then he nodded.

I glanced at the main cabin. A small swirl of smoke was coming from the chimney, but no lights flickered inside. Like the rest of the Ranskins, Koda was still sleeping in his doghouse. “It looks like it’s just you and me out here this morning.”

Beau grabbed hold of my arm and shook his head. “Wait.” He pointed to the north end of the property. At first I saw nothing but morning shadows, then a gray wolf stepped out, stretching with a yip, like it had just woken up. Next, a white and tan wolf came into view.

I had to fight back the urge to be afraid, instinctually at least. They were large and powerful, with jaws of steel and a ferocity to match when it suited them, especially when they were together. But they were awesome too, majestic and otherworldly in so many ways.

I swallowed thickly. “Do they sleep out here every night?”

“They hunt at night,” he said matter-of-factly.

I knew wolves were nocturnal, but that wasn’t exactly what I’d meant. “Where is their home?”

Shrugging, he started walking toward them. “They live here.”

I didn’t know if they were the same wolves from Slana, but I had a sneaking suspension they were. “Have they always been here?”

The gray one, whose tail wagged more vigorously the closer we drew, darted into the trees. “No,” Beau said over his shoulder as he started walking faster. I could barely hear him through the sound of my boots crunching in the snow.

The white and tan wolf darted in to the trees next, and Beau ran in after them.

“Beau,” I said carefully. “I think you should come back toward the house.” I was all for him practicing his communication with the wolves, but I wasn’t sure about disappearing into the woods with them. I gripped my gun tighter. “Beau—”

“Come on!” he called. “You can say hi to all of them.”

The ever-present disquiet I had that always kept me on edge, dimmed a little, and I knew Beau was right. I could say hi to a wild wolf because he said I could, and they were his friends. Instinctively, I knew it was safe, even if I questioned my sanity deciding to do so.

Beau’s white jacket flashed against the trees as the sunlight filtered through their leafless boughs.

My stride quickened, my heart racing as my body warmed. “Where the hell are you taking me?” I muttered, but Beau was too far ahead to answer.

There were so many questions, like why wolves, and why had his power taken so long to fully manifest? How the hell did the virus make any of this possible?

Wings fluttered in the trees above, and my heartbeat raced until finally, Beau slowed.

“How do you communicate with them?” I asked, inhaling the dark woods around us.

“I know what they’re thinking,” Beau explained, staring down at the wolf tracks. “I see it in pictures, and I can feel if they are scared or happy.”

The gray and tan wolves trotted further ahead.

I stepped over a log, waiting for the hair on the back of my neck to rise. I couldn’t believe the words on the tip of my tongue, but I said them all the same. “So, what are the wolves thinking? Feel free to leave out the gruesome details.” It was only a joke, but part of me wondered what exactly Beau saw when he talked to them.

I heard a few yips in the distance, and my gaze flicked forward.

“They just want to play,” he explained. “They think I’m one of them.”

“And you know they don’t want to hurt you. You can sense that?” I wanted him to be absolutely certain.

Beau laughed at me. “Yeah. I’m certain. I mean, they get scared sometimes, but then they don’t come around. I told them you wouldn’t hurt them though.”

“Well that’s good,” I mumbled.

“There are eight. Taiga and Luna and their six kids.”

“Eight,” I breathed. “That’s a big number.” Under different circumstances, we could’ve been marching to a feeding frenzy for all I knew.

“Taiga—like the snow forest, where they live—is the dad. Luna is the mom. Her favorite part of the night is when there’s a full moon.”

They already had names, of course they did. “Have you been sneaking out to play with them since Slana, Beau?”

He stopped ahead of me, clearly guilty, as he hesitated to answer. “Only a couple times. I didn’t want to get in trouble and they were still scared of me a little, I think.”

“I see,” I said with a huff. My nose was cold from the brisk morning and my skin was dampening with sweat. Beau, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed by our morning excursion.

Beau bit the side of his mouth, waiting for me to say something, but I nodded him forward. “Lead the way,” I told him. There was no undoing the past.

A small smile grew in place of his uncertainty. “We’re already here.” He led me to a cluster of boulders on the side of the mountain, covered with snow. Four wolves lounged together on the rocks. Two others ran up to Beau.

I stopped where I stood a few yards away, watching Beau interact with a pack of wolves with bated breath. All of them came out to greet him. Tails wagged. They sniffed and nuzzled him. They yipped happily as he ruffled their fur and patted their heads. The biggest smile I’d ever seen engulfed Beau’s face.

“This is Rocky,” he said, glancing over at me. He petted the chocolate-colored wolf’s head, and it licked his glove in return. “He likes to lie on the rocks in the sun. He’s the youngest.”

“Rocky, huh?” I crouched down, watching from the sidelines as he laughed with true happiness I’d never heard in him before.

“Come on. You can pet him,” Beau said, leading Rocky over. Beau grabbed my hand for Rocky to sniff it. “He likes attention the most.”

I waited for the ominous warning inside me to blare back to life like it did so frequently, but still nothing came. I had no apprehension whatsoever, just like when I was around Elle, knowing what a simple touch from her could do.

Unable to resist, I pulled off my glove and reached out to the wolf. His mane was soft but thick, and Rocky’s eyes met mine, softly blinking as he succumbed to all the attention.

“He likes your beard,” Beau said. “It makes you less strange than the others.”

I chuckled, uncertain how to take that other than hairy beasts liked hairy beasts, I supposed.

The other wolves sauntered over, less quick to welcome me than Rocky but equally curious. The knot in my stomach never returned as eight wild wolves sniffed me and licked my clothes like I was nothing more than another friend.

As Beau and I played with them, I realized maybe there was something different about me, and there had been all along.

58

Elle

April 16

Aurora borealis broke through the clouds as I made my way to the firepit. The others were still getting dressed for a night under the stars, but I was content in my jeans and long sleeves. Fleetingly, I wondered if that’s how it would be for the rest of my life, always warm or overheating, and what summers would be like. Miserable? Either way, Jackson was right. The more we practiced, the more control we would have and the more we’d know. Even if I feared I’d hurt someone, it didn’t mean I couldn’t practice on my own.

Instead of trying to deny my ability, like I had for nearly five months, I was sort of excited to embrace it. Knowing I wasn’t the only one now made it less intimidating somehow.

When I came to the firepit, I glanced around to see if anyone else was headed over yet. The Ranskins didn’t know openly that we were different, but between my argument with Jackson for all to hear, and what had happened with Beau, they had to have some inkling that we weren’t a typical family.

Satisfied that only Koda rustled over by the main house, I knelt down by the logs of the unlit fire. My rib was on the mend, but it still hurt like a bitch. Part of me wondered if it would hurt even more if I didn’t have the insane amount of energy I had coursing through me all the time.

Since Slana, the burn had been slowly building up again, and it was time to see if I couldn’t let some of that pent up energy out in a new way. With another quick glance around the property, I reached out to touch one of the logs, disappointed when nothing happened. I wasn’t entirely surprised though. Jackson had let me touch him with my bare hands and nothing had happened. While I now understood his keen sense of impending danger, I’d thought he was a real daredevil before. Why would an inanimate log provoke anything different?

Feeling even sillier, I leaned closer and tried to blow the fire to a start. Nothing happened.

Shutting my eyes, I reluctantly thought about what had happened in Slana. I remembered the fear that had me running up the stairs toward the sound of the kids screaming. I felt the clawing desire to kill and protect, and imagining the intruder looming over them with menace in his eyes had my blood burning hotter.

Fear, I realized. It was the rising fear and desperation that stoked the fire inside. I just had to harness it.

I tried to light the fire again, latching onto the fear and the dread that resurfaced, and the burn shifted inside of me, blooming in my chest and heating the tips of my fingers. The fire still didn’t start, however, something was happening in the blood that ran through my muscles and limbs.

“Do you need a fire starter?”

I jumped and turned around at the sound of Jade’s voice coming up behind me. She was wrapped in a wool shawl, her eyes sparkling from the dancing lights above.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” I said dumbly, and I sat back into an empty chair.

“Trying to start it yourself?” She lifted an amused brow and settled into the seat a couple of chairs down. She blew on her hot mug and glanced at me over the brim.

“I—I,” I stammered. “Yes, actually.” It was a relief to say. I took a deep breath and held up my palms. “I know that sounds crazy, and I’m sure—”

“Crazier than a wild wolf crawling into a little boy’s lap to keep him warm? Crazier than Sophie telling me she loved the Moon drawing I gave my son three years ago because she forgot she’d only seen it in a memory?”

I swallowed thickly.

“I thought I was crazy when that bag of oats fell over while Thea and I were on the other side of the room. Her proud smile was impossible to ignore,” Jade explained.

My cheeks burned red, and it wasn’t from my unnatural kind of heat.

Jade looked at my hands. “And, you aren’t wearing your gloves,” she pointed out with a smile.

I tilted my head, uncertain I could believe she was so content with it all. “All of these unfathomable things are happening and you aren’t freaking out, even in the slightest?”

“It’s unexpected; it’s not every day a little girl can stir your gravy for you from the other side of the room while you finish folding the laundry.” She winked. “It started a bit messy, but we were practicing this afternoon.”

“We weren’t sure how you would take it,” I admitted. “I wanted to tell you sooner, I think we all did, but . . .”

“When I was eleven,” Jade started. “I woke with a horrible premonition that my mother would die. I remember having tears in my eyes the instant I opened them; it felt so real. I ran from my room and told my father I saw her drowning in the river—that she would fall through the ice and be swept away by the current, but he didn’t believe me. I was a child who woke up from a nightmare in his eyes, no matter how desperate I was to stop her from leaving.

But it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway because she’d already left with my uncle and grandfather. It was their annual fishing trip northwest, at a river that has claimed many lives.” Jade’s eyes were soft and somewhere far away. “She never came back from the trip.”

My lips parted, caught somewhere between surprise and sadness. “She drowned?”

Jade dipped her chin slowly and took another sip of her tea. “I believe in things unseen,” she said. “And there are many things still unknown about our spirit and purpose in this life.” She paused, a thought lifting the corner of her mouth before she continued. “I think we all have something inside of us we don’t fully understand. It’s always there, and sometimes it remains undiscovered. I don’t know if it’s the sickness you’ve all been through or something more infinite than that, but perhaps with everything you’ve been through, you’ve found yours—all of you have—and that’s something I think should be celebrated. Your purpose has always been there, only now, it’s known.”

I’d never considered there was an innate part of me that had been dormant and would still be that way if I hadn’t visited the fiery depths of the sickness before I came out the other side.

“The human mind is so complex and still so unknown.” I repeated the words Dr. Rothman had told me many times.

“So is the intricacy of all life in this place, no matter what you believe. I’m certain most would agree we know little in the great scheme of things.” Jade peered up at the lights in the sky. “Sometimes a little something incredible is all we need to give us the boost we need to figure things out.”

Jet was up there in the rainbow of lights, so was Jade’s mom. “I’m sorry about what happened to her,” I said. “Your mother, I mean.” I couldn’t imagine losing my mother because she was never a part of my life. But I could imagine losing one of the kids, and how devastated I would be. I figured multiplying that by a hundred wouldn’t come close to the love between a mother and daughter.

“Thank you, but it was many years ago. I went to live with my grandmother who was very old fashioned,” she said, pointing to the lined tattoos on her chin. “As you can tell.” I barely noticed them anymore; they were just a part of who she was.

“What do they mean, exactly?”

“Maturity,” she said. “Womanhood—achievements in my life, this one is Jet.” She pointed to the middle line. “This last one is Del.”

“How fascinating,” I thought aloud. Jade was such an interesting human, I wanted to cling to her like lichen on a rock and absorb all her knowledge and insights about life and people.

Smiling, she nodded to the abandoned fire. “Perhaps you need something to give you a little spark.”

“Oh, right.” I stared at the logs, untouched and lonely. “Maybe . . . But I haven’t needed one before.” I took a match out of the camping box beside the fire and stared at the striking tip. I wasn’t sure I wanted to attempt this with her sitting there, but I had little choice.

Closing my eyes, I thought about the intruder’s face again, saw the gauntness of it, and the fever in his yellow-tinted eyes. I touched the tip of the match, barely pressing my fingertips against it, but intent on burning the image of his face away.

At first, it felt like the typical tip of a match, until my fingers warmed and I felt heat against my face. I opened my eyes, watching the flame flicker on the end, burning slowly down the stick. I grinned, brimming with a sense of accomplishment, even if it was only just the start.

The closer the flame moved toward my fingers, the more curious I became.

The door to the small cabin opened across the yard and I heard Beau and Thea bickering before they stepped outside.

I tossed the match into the fire, and quickly lit another one with a single touch. With a victorious smile, I reached out and watched the tinder catch flame.

“Thank you,” I whispered, gaze flicking to Jade, like we had a secret.

She smiled back and brought her mug to her lips.

I held my bare hands to the fire, enjoying the growing warmth without my gloves to hinder the sensation. “I thought using my fear and anger would make it work like before,” I mused. “I guess I was wrong.”

“Memories of fear and anger aren’t the same as the heat of the moment,” she said, and I restrained from laughing at her choice of words.

“I guess that makes sense.” At least for everyone but Sophie. Unfortunately she couldn’t escape it.

“Yeah-huh,” Beau said, trudging over from the cabin.

“Nuh-uh,” Thea retorted, hustling to catch up. Her puffy jacket made her little arms bounce as she ran.

“Whatever. They already have names. You can’t change them, Thea. And you can’t name a boy Flower if he doesn’t want that to be his name.” A white and gray wolf with a black spot on the top of his head trotted over behind them.

Thea took an empty seat by the fire and scratched the wolf’s neck as he plopped down between her and Beau. “Pretty Flower,” she cooed.

“You’re so annoying,” Beau grumbled.

“What is this one’s name, Beau?” I asked. I had already met Luna, the one who had kept him warm, but the rest were still new to me.

“Little Foot,” Beau said, pointing to his back leg. “He was born with a smaller foot in the back. But he still runs faster than the rest.”

I reached beside Beau to Little Foot at his side and offered him my hand. “I probably smell like smoke,” I realized. The wolf sniffed me, his cold nose brushing against my skin, and he lowered his head for me to pet him.

Took and Del came out of the main cabin next, thermoses in their hands. “Did everyone bring their cups?” Took asked and unscrewed the lid of his.

“Yes,” Beau said, and Sophie straggled over behind them. I was glad to see she seemed to be doing better after last night. She’d been distraught for Beau and Thea, and rightly so, but she smiled now, even if it seemed faint with exhaustion.

Took walked the circle of chairs, pouring each of us a full mug of hot cocoa. He was a man of tradition, like Jade, but he’d taken to nightly hot chocolate with the kids, nature walks with Thea, and carving with Beau.

“He’ll be sad to see them go,” Sophie muttered, like she could read my thoughts. Her eyes met mine as she sat down beside me, then shifted to Alex. Her expression was less easy with him again. I knew he was pulling away from her a bit since he’d learned about her power, I just hoped time was all he needed to accept it, for both of their sakes.

Alex flashed everyone a smile as he sat down on the other side of me, between me and Jade. He snuggled down into his jacket and stared into the fire.

“Penny for your thoughts,” I said.

Alex’s mouth lifted in the corner and he yawned. “I’m tired. Jackson and I were working on the trailer all afternoon. I think the axle’s finally fixed, but my shoulder is shot.”

The wolf whined and his ears titled back as Jackson strode up behind us. Hands in his pockets, he glanced around at all of us and took a seat in the empty chair across the fire.

“Where did you disappear to after dinner?” Jade asked. “Making the rounds?”

Jackson chuckled. “Out of habit, yes, but I guess I don’t need to anymore with these guys hanging around.” Little Foot trotted over as if he and Jackson were old friends, and Jackson patted him on the neck. “And,” he said. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh boy,” Alex said playfully. “Here we go.” He leaned forward to warm his hands against the flames.

“Is it about you leaving?” Sophie asked, I could hear the reluctance in her voice and it made the anticipation all the greater.

“About all of us leaving, together, actually. If you want.”

“You’re coming to Hartley?” Alex straightened. “I mean, that’s awesome, but I thought you weren’t feeling the whole community vibe.”

“That depends,” he said. “What do you all want to do?”

“I don’t want to go to Hartley anymore,” Beau said.

“You don’t?” I shot a look to Jackson. “Why not, Beau?”

“What about the wolves?” he said. “I can’t leave them, and they can’t live there.”

I hadn’t considered the wolves in any of our plans. “Are you sure they’ll want to come with you?”

“Yes, they do, and Hartley won’t let me keep them, and they might try to hurt them—”

“It’s okay, kid, we’ll figure it out,” Jackson said. “It’s up to everyone else, too.” He peered around at the others. “What about the rest of you?” His eyes landed on Sophie.

“What do you and Elle want?” she asked, flicking her gaze at me. If I knew Sophie, she knew the answer before we did.

“I want to do what makes the most sense,” I told her. “I want us to be safe, and I want us all to agree if we can. We can’t stay here forever. We need to find someplace to call home.”

“Not to speak out of turn,” Took said, and we all looked at him. “But you can stay here. We have land. We can build on it.”

“Took—” Del chided.

“What? It’s true. We have the space.”

“Of course you’re welcome to stay,” Jade said, gesturing to all of us. “We would love to have you. But there is no obligation, I know you want to start new lives and there’s still a lot you don’t understand. Maybe you can find answers out there, somewhere.”

It was a beautiful thought, staying with them and continuing to learn what they knew about the land. It would be much simpler than starting over and risking new places and people.

“What about your lodge, Jackson?” Alex looked at him. “What about Whitehorse?”

I half-expected Jackson to shy away from the idea given it meant so much to him and his wife, but he lifted his shoulder, as if it was a possibility. “We could do that,” he said. “Or at least check it out. I’ll be meeting up with Ross there, regardless,” he said. “I have to see him.”

“I think,” Sophie began, holding her mug tightly in her hand. “I think we should at least visit Whitehorse, even if it’s just a short trip to see what it’s like. If we don’t,” she looked more pointedly at Jackson, “we’ll always wonder about it. And you have Ross to think about now, too.”

I thought of Jackson changing his plans for us, on top of foregoing Whitehorse, and having to worry about choosing between us and Ross, now that we knew he was alive.

“If you’re already going to see Ross,” Alex said. “We can go with you and figure it out then.”

Jackson nodded, thoughtful as he picked at a loose string in his folding chair. “We can always come back.”

“And, if we stay in Whitehorse,” Sophie added, looking at Jade. “We won’t be as far from you as we would be in Hartley. So we can still visit.”

Jade’s lips parted in a relieved smile. “That would be wonderful.”

“We could still go hunting with you guys each spring,” Alex added. “It could be like an annual thing.”

“And either way,” I said, winking at Beau. “You can keep your wolves.”

Jackson glanced around the circle, meeting each pair of waiting eyes that blinked back at him. “It’s decided then. We plan for a trip to Whitehorse to check things out.” He looked at me with a nod. “I’ll call Ross.”

59

Elle

April 18

It was twilight by the time we reached the Yukon. In the middle of nowhere, we didn’t have to worry about cars abandoned on the highway or roadblocks to get around. All we had to worry about was snow and fuel, and we’d been lucky with both.

We’d been on the road for nearly ten hours and had stopped only three times between fuel refills and bathroom breaks. With six people in two vehicles, the Pathfinder Jackson found yesterday, following behind the Tacoma as it plowed the harrier roads, we’d taken every safety precaution, from tow straps to toilet paper to extra snacks for the kids, just in case. We were cramped but it was worth it.

Whitehorse was a sprawling city but it was the surrounding mountains we were heading toward. I was content leaving the city and the horrors that likely came with it behind and eagerly continued south. I knew Whitehorse was a place of deep-rooted, native culture, and I wondered how many other remote villages and homesteads in the area had missed the outbreak, or even knew about it.

“Elle?” Alex’s voice came through the CB radio.

Sophie clicked it on. “This is Sophie.”

“We’re going to follow the Yukon River through the city,” Jackson said on the other end. “Keep to the highway. The fewer people that hear or see us coming, the better.”

“Got it.”

“We’re looking for signs for Midnight Sun Lodge, it should be about ten or fifteen minutes down the highway.”

“Okay, we’ll keep our eyes out.”

“And Elle,” Jackson hedged, his voice grave. “Don’t stop for anyone, okay?”

I glanced at Sophie, hating this part of traveling near cities. “I won’t.”

The radio went silent, and I glanced in the rearview mirror, glad to see the kids were asleep. I didn’t want to have to worry about what might happen or what they might see along the way.

“At least we’re almost there,” Sophie said encouragingly. “I could use a nice leg stretch.”

“Tell me about it. My fingers are stuck like this.” I smiled and held up my hands, fingers bent like claws.

Sophie sighed and stared at the passing mountains beyond the window. “What do you know about Jackson’s friend?” she asked, lifting her foot up onto the dash. “I mean, other than they worked together?”

“I know nothing about Ross,” I admitted. “Other than he’s all Jackson has left from his life before, and he’s important to him.”

“Do you think we can trust him? I mean, he was gone all those months. He’s got to have a power too, right? How do you even broach the topic to begin with?” She muttered the last part.

“I don’t know, but I trust Jackson,” I told her. “And his ability to sense things.” Jackson had a natural gut instinct about things, it was something I could always rely on.

Sophie looked at me. “That doesn’t mean we have to go in blind,” she said. Although she was genuinely offering to use her power to learn his intentions, it would come at a cost. It always did.

“You don’t have to do that every time, Sophie.”

She shrugged. “I think I do now, Elle.” It was a sad realization and I hated that it fell on her shoulders. “There has to be a way to control it better.”

“In time.” Now Sophie was the one reassuring me.

I smiled, grateful to have her with me in all of this. “Team Good Guys, right?”

“For sure,” she said with a grin. “We need to come up with a name though. Something epic.”

We sat in silence for the rest of the drive, taking in the dark roads that were lit only by our headlights. The sky was clear, and the world had a moonglow about it, even if we couldn’t stop to appreciate the stars.

When the sign for Midnight Sun came into view I glanced at Sophie. “Wake the kids up, would you?” I scanned the signs ahead.

Sophie twisted in her seat, half leaning in the back as she shook Beau awake. “We’re almost there.”

I glanced in the rearview mirror, just as Thea stirred. “We’re here,” Beau told her, and she gripped her stuffed duck closer and threatened to fall back to sleep.

“Wake up,” Beau groused again, and her eyes blinked open languidly.

“I’m tired,” she whined.

“You guys remember what we talked about, right?” Beau met my gaze in the mirror. It was imperative they remembered.

“No talking about powers,” he said.

“Or the wolves,” Thea added sleepily.

“And,” Sophie prompted, “we stick together until we’re comfortable around our new friends, right?”

“Yes,” they agreed in unison.

“If you see anything strange,” I warned. “Tell one of us, okay?”

I followed Jackson down a muddy road and saw the lights on in the lodge before I could make out the building.

“They have power?” Sophie asked.

“Or generators, maybe.”

“That’s . . . awesome.” She could barely contain her surprise.

Or wasteful, but I kept that thought to myself. I didn’t want to give the kids a bad taste in their mouths before we met up with everyone. I was just scared, and I needed to remind myself that not everyone was evil outside the six of us. Jade, Took, and Del had proven that.

When we got further down the drive, a Chevrolet truck with a plow on the front was parked behind the building.

Jackson pulled off to the side, and I followed next to him. Though I was excited for Jackson, I was nervous about what the next twenty-four hours might bring.

You are formidable. It was a necessary reminder. I wasn’t helpless; I hadn’t been for a long time, even if I was still getting used to the idea.

I waited for the cue from Jackson, and when I got a thumbs up, I shut off the engine. “All right.” I pushed the driver side door open. “We’re here, but remember the rules.”

The kids climbed out of the back seat.

“Put your jackets on,” Sophie told them, stretching her legs. With the sun long set and the heat of the car escaping, it felt like the arctic again.

Carefully, I stretched out my neck, stiff from gripping both hands onto the steering wheel.

I peered up at the lodge. It was huge compared to anywhere we’d stayed during the past five months, a log chalet with a wraparound porch surrounding it. Three chic cabins with angled roofs were snuggly situated a few yards behind it. Land surrounded us; mountains and forests spreading as far as the eye could see; all of it glowing in the moonlight.

Jackson and Alex stretched and groaned as they met us in the center of the driveway.

“It doesn’t feel wrong, but it doesn’t feel right either,” Jackson said without ceremony. His gaze shifted between the lodge and us. I wondered how much of his reluctance had to do with his wife verses the people that waited inside.

“I guess we’ll see,” Sophie told him.

“That was the longest car ride ever,” Thea groaned. “Huh, Beau?”

But Beau was too busy peering around the property to answer. We were nestled in the forest; the wolves would have plenty of areas to hide.

I leaned down and whispered in his ear. “Are they here?”

He shook his head. “Not yet, but soon . . . I think.”

“Good.” His connection to them increased daily, and I knew he wouldn’t settle in until they were. I’d feel better once they arrived, too.

“Well, should we go look inside the house?” Alex asked. The front door flung open as he took Thea’s hand.

“Hot damn!” A man’s voice boomed in the crisp night air, and he stepped off the porch with his arms wide and welcoming. “It’s been too long.”

“Brother,” Jackson breathed, relief easing his shoulders a little. The two men embraced, and I took the infamous Ross in as they patted each other on the back. Ross wasn’t as tall as Jackson, but he had broad shoulders and filled out his clothes just as well. He had shorter hair and a bit of scruff on his face, but more than anything he was open and animated where Jackson was reserved.

“I thought your ass would never get here,” Ross said with a final squeeze.

“You and me both.” Jackson gestured to the five of us. “Meet the gang. Gang, this is my best friend, Ross.”

Ross’s smile widened, and he leaned forward, offering his hand to Thea first. “Well, little lady, my name’s Kyle Ross, you can call me, well, Kyle or Ross, I guess.”

“I’m Thea,” she said shyly. “And this is my brother, Beau.” She pointed to Beau who eyed him carefully.

“Hey little dude. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m not that little,” Beau replied curtly, and Ross chuckled.

“No, I guess you’re not are you.” He straightened and looked at Alex, offering him his hand.

“I’m Alex,” he said with a quick shake.

“Nice grip,” Ross said, peering down at their clasped hands. “Young and strong. I like it.” He clapped Alex on the shoulder and looked at Sophie, next in line.

“Sophie,” she said reaching out her hand. Her lips were pursed and her expression pensive though she forced a smile as he took her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“It’s good to see another ginger in the group,” he said, jokingly. “And one even better lookin’ than me.” He winked at her with a chuckle. “And you’ve got a firm grip, don’t you?”

Jackson and I watched Sophie closely, the strain in the corner of her eyes giving her turmoil away. Her smile tightened and she dropped his hand and took a step back.

Sophie nodded reassuringly, and wiped the moisture from her eyes.

“And you must be Elle.” Ross stood in front of me. His eyes widened ever so slightly, but I wasn’t sure if it was out of surprise, or if his ability allowed him to know what I could do.

“Yes. Nice to meet you.” I offered him my good hand, and his grip was soft but strong. I could smell alcohol on him, and I wondered if his smiles were covering what the alcohol couldn’t.

“Jackson made it sound like he was palling around with a bunch of kids,” he added, in awe. “You guys look like warriors.”

“Sometimes,” I joked, glancing at Jackson. He eyed his friend with a waning smile.

“Well . . .” Ross put his hands on his hips and scanned all six of us. “Aren’t you a big happy family. You always wanted one of those, aye, Jackson?” He patted him on the back, and Jackson’s easiness faltered.

“You have travel companions as well?” I prompted, eager to change the subject. It was apparent Ross didn’t realize how hard the past months had been for Jackson.

“Yep, that would be old Bert, he’s passed out on the couch. He’s a lush, just to forewarn you.”

“Can you show us around the place?” I asked, trying to move the conversation along. It was clear Jackson and Ross, no matter how close they had been were uneasy in each other’s company now, and the awkwardness made me restless. “That way we can figure out sleeping arrangements and where to put our things.”

“You bet.” Ross turned toward the place. “Jackson, you probably know this place better than I do, but I’ll show you around.”

“So,” I said as we all trailed after him and Jackson into the lodge. “What is the situation here? You have electricity?” All the lights were on, though I didn’t hear a generator anywhere inside.

“Yeah, for now. Isn’t that great? You picked a primo spot, Jackson.” Ross gestured to the large industrial kitchen as we stepped inside. It was updated and modern with rustic-chic everything; exactly what I would expect to see in an upscale lodge for tourists.

“Don’t mind the mess,” he said, bypassing the dirtied kitchen. “Some of us are still celebrating the fact we finally got here.” He walked further into the house. Everything had clean lines and welcoming, warm tones with light wood and landscape photography lining the walls. It made me long to watch the sunset once the winter clouds were gone for good.

“We got a community space here,” Ross said, waving away the drunk old man. All I could see was gray hair and maybe a mustache. “Anyway,” Ross continued, “In there is another space.” He pointed to a formal living room and a game room or den. There were large vertical windows everywhere draped with moss-colored linen.

The air was cool but not freezing, which might’ve been my body temperature.

“There are three bathrooms and five bedrooms upstairs, and then there are a few cabins adjacent to this one.”

We made our way up the stairs. The loft area was an office, with a large shaggy rug to cover the cold hardwood, and a minimally decorated but wide hallway shot off either end, one toward the master bedroom with two other rooms and a bath, and the other hall led to a final two, narrow rooms and the last bath.

There were bathrooms everywhere and I longed for a steaming hot shower, despite my internal temperature.

“Do the bathrooms work?” Sophie asked.

“They sure do. This place has all the fancy bells and whistles to protect the pipes and the well, at least for now.” He shrugged. “I haven’t showered yet but I used the hot water in the kitchen.” Ross pointed to a closed bedroom door. “I’m in one room down here, but the rest are open.”

“It’s bigger than I expected,” I mused, staring up at the vaulted ceilings and down over the landing, into the living room. “Plus the detached buildings.”

“Yep, it was a good call meeting here, Jackson,” Ross said, but Jackson lingered in the doorway behind us, staring into a darkened room.

Ross made his way downstairs again, but I exchanged a look with Sophie.

It was their room, I assumed. The one he’d shared with his wife. I’d forgotten how difficult it must be for him to be there without her, and yet, I imagined it might give him a sense of closure, too.

Leaving Jackson to his thoughts, Sophie and I followed the kids back downstairs. Jackson had been doing so well, I selfishly hoped being here and seeing Ross wouldn’t change the way things had been among all of us.

“Where’s all of your luggage?” Alex asked, poking his head back into the kitchen. “Supplies and clothes and stuff?”

“Ah, we’ve only unpacked what we’ve needed.” Ross grabbed a beer bottle from the twelve pack on the counter. A tequila bottle sat beside it. He popped the cap off the bottle, and slurped down a few glugs before he came up for breath, smiling. “Can I get you all anything? We have beer and there’s canned food in the pantry if you’re hungry.”

“Why don’t we check out the other cabins so we can get settled,” Jackson said, coming back down the stairs. He nodded to the back door. “The kids are exhausted.”

Ross’s easiness wilted briefly—looked almost sad—but he nodded and held up his beer. “Sounds good.”

Alex led the way, Beau at his side. Sophie and Thea followed behind him.

“There weren’t any bodies when you got here?” I asked him, suddenly worried what we might stumble upon. “Nothing weird we should know about?”

“Nothing weird.” Ross shook his head. “There were two women, they’re in the garage. I figured we could deal with that tomorrow.” He tossed Jackson a ring of keys hanging from a long line of hooks. “You’ll need these. The cabins are locked.”

Jackson nodded in thanks and followed me out the door, pulling it shut behind us. “I want us all in the same room tonight,” Jackson said.

I eyed him, willing him to tell me what was going on in his head. “Should I be worried?”

He hesitated to answer. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s a weird vibe but nothing hair-raising. Ask Sophie. I know Ross is in bad shape, drunk, which isn’t like him.” I could hear the concern in Jackson’s voice. “Four months ago he would’ve been pulling the bottle out of my hand and telling me to keep my shit together.”

“We’ve all changed since December,” I reminded him. “We don’t know what happened to him in Fairbanks or anywhere else he’s been.”

Both of us glanced at Sophie grabbing her bags out of the car. She was the only one who did.

I peered at Ross sitting inside at the table, hand on head as he rubbed it methodically and stared at his beer. “He’s right there,” I whispered. “Why don’t you go ask him?”

Running his hand over his face, Jackson sighed. “I just imagined this feeling different,” he admitted. “Seeing him again.”

“Maybe things will feel better in the morning, after you’ve both had a decent night’s sleep.” For Jackson’s sake, I hoped I was right.

60

Jackson

April 18

While Elle and the kids unpacked their things, Ross and I sat at the counter in a strangely awkward silence as the past and present settled between us. Or, maybe it was a mixture of relief and fatigue. He took a swig of his beer, and I eyed the large, half-folded map with starred locations of northern Alaska next to him. None of the areas were part of his original plan, so I was curious. But then, my plans had skewed off course too.

“What were you looking for?” I asked, glancing at the map.

Ross cleared his throat. “Answers,” he said and took another swig.

He offered me one, but I held up my hand. “I’m good.”

At first, Ross shrugged like it was my loss, then his eyes flashed with comprehension. “You stayed dry.” I wasn’t sure if it was awe or surprise in his voice, but there was a difference between the two—awe meant he commended me, surprise meant he didn’t think I was capable. He would’ve been right.

“No,” I said. “I didn’t. But I need to be now. It’s been a really long winter.” I stared at a piece of scratch paper sitting on the countertop. The King Corporation. It sounded familiar, but I brushed it aside, more curious about the note written on it. Addresses throughout Fairbanks and the Tanana River.

“What are those places?” Each of them but the last were hastily scribbled out.

Ross’s gray-blue eyes glazed over as he stared at it. “All the places I went to check to find her.”

“Did you?”

He nodded. “I found her, it just took a while. Her mom was dead but she wasn’t there.”

“Where the hell was she?”

“She was parked at a bus station. It took me a few weeks to figure that out.” He took a swig of his beer. “I don’t want to talk about depressing shit tonight, Jackson.” He waved toward the cabins outside. “Where’d you get all those kids, anyway? You and Elle . . .”

I waited for him to finish his sentence, but he looked at me, expectant. “Me and Elle what, popped out four kids in the past four months?” I chuckled. “No.”

He punched me in the shoulder and took another drink. “Smart ass.”

“I met them in Anchorage the day after you left. We were heading in the same direction and—”

“And now it’s more than that,” he finished for me.

I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. Yes, it was more than that, and as simple as that too.

“Are you sure you and your lady don’t want to shack up in the house?”

“Don’t say it like that,” I told him.

“Okay, fine. Would you and Elle like to have a room in the house?” he said like a robot. “The kids will be fine out there, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s not like that with her,” I told him, and it was true. Whatever Elle and I were it wasn’t what he imagined.

“No shit?” he asked, eyes like frisbees. “What’s wrong with you, are you broken or something?”

“No,” I said, trying not to laugh. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“Jackson, it’s okay. My sister is dead. You’re alive and—”

I shot to my feet, infuriated even if his words were true. “Don’t say it like that,” I warned him.

Ross rose to his feet just as quickly. “Why, because it hurts? Fuck yeah, man. All of this fucking sucks, but it is what it is. Hannah ain’t coming back—Kelsey is not coming back.” He heaved out a breath. “The sooner you come to terms with that the better.”

“Oh, like you have?” I bit out, glaring at the bottle in his shaking hand. “When was the last time you were sober because you look like shit, brother. I’ve tried coping that way, and it doesn’t work, trust me.” I shook my head. “Don’t be a dick.”

Every hard line on Ross’s face softened, and he sat back down, glugging what was left in his bottle. Ross wasn’t ever much of a drinker. A few beers at a BBQ maybe, but he never went for the hard stuff. He was also a compulsive neat freak, a soldier through and through, though by the looks of him you’d never know it.

“I thought you said there are showers here?” I leveled my eyes on him. “Take one. As your friend and housemate, it’s not a request.” We weren’t getting anywhere tonight, not like this. I slid the stool in with my boot. “I’m going to bed.” I stared at the old guy passed out on the couch in the game room. “He good for anything or did you bring dead weight?”

Ross glowered. “He’s not dead weight. Despite what he looks like, he’s a brilliant old fart; he was an engineer in another life.”

“Good. Now, go to bed, would you? We have a lot to talk about tomorrow.” I turned for the door.

“Sweet dreams, princess,” he grumbled.

“You too, buttercup.” I flipped him off for the hell of it. “See you in the AM.”

The instant I shut the door behind me, I felt better. I couldn’t say if it was that niggling feeling that dissipated or just my concern for Ross.

The cold air shook me awake as I walked toward the cabins. Peering into the darkness, I tried to remember the last time I looked at a watch. Daylight was all that mattered anymore; time felt obsolete. With a final glance toward the house, I quietly opened the door into the narrow cottage.

Candlelight flickered over the walls, casting familiar shadows. They’d pushed a queen bed against the wall to leave more room on the floor for two twin mattresses and a folding cot where Alex lay, already passed out. Beau was lying in his bed, eyes heavy as he blinked at me, and Thea and Sophie were on the other. And, like music to my ears, the water was running in the bathroom.

Sophie looked up at me from combing Thea’s hair. “The boys brought in the mattresses from the next cabin so no one would have to sleep on the floor.”

“I noticed.” I stepped inside. It was like Christmas had come early. Comfy beds and plumbing. “You and Elle get the bed,” she said with a quirked brow.

“I’m fine on the mattress. You kids can have the bed—”

“Elle said the bed was fine.”

“Yeah, well, Elle’s having a euphoric shower right now, she wouldn’t care about much of anything else I’d imagine.”

Sophie laughed. “True.”

I took off my coat and draped it on the edge of the bed. “Are you okay?” I’d been worried about her since her meet and greet with Ross.

She nodded without bothering to look at me. “Parts of his memory are blurry. He feels really lost.”

I didn’t need her to fill in the rest. She didn’t need to think about it anymore than she already had before bed.

“No lights, huh?” I asked, taking in the darkened room.

Sophie shrugged. “It feels weird sitting in the bright lights,” she mused. It made sense after all this time, and I wasn’t complaining.

Beau’s eyelids flitted open.

“Did your friends arrive?” I asked him.

His chin dipped slightly.

“Do you think they’ll mind keeping an eye on things tonight?”

“They will,” he murmured, his lips barely moving.

“Thanks, bud.” I pulled his sleeping bag up over his shoulder.

A week ago I might’ve slept with my gun, knowing eight wolves were outside the house. Tonight, I didn’t feel like I needed it at all. I stopped at the vertical windows, peering out into the crystal-clear night. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Ross, but I wasn’t sure I knew him anymore. He’d gone AWOL for months and the unknown of where he’d gone and what he’d done worried me.

The bathroom door opened and Elle stepped out. Her silhouette flickered in the window’s reflection. “You’re back,” she said quietly so not to wake the boys.

I made the mistake of peering over my shoulder to answer and my tongue lodged in my throat.

Of course I’d noticed Elle was attractive, you had to be a corpse not to, but until now she’d just been Elle. Well, mostly. The maternal and responsible one. She’d been the person who kept our lives running like a well-oiled machine most of the time. But standing there with her hair long and dark over her shoulders, and the wet tips soaking into her strappy pink tank top, she was more than that. Her shirt clung to every curve of her chest, and I cleared my throat.

“Is everything okay?” She wrapped her hair in a towel and glanced at me. “Did you get a chance to talk to Ross?”

I shook my head. “Yeah, he’s—uh—he’s fine. I told him to get some sleep.” I plopped into a cushioned chair beside a corner desk and pulled off my boots.

“Good.” She smiled with relief and I forced myself to look away.

“Your bag’s there,” Sophie said with a grin. I didn’t have to look at her, I could hear it in her voice.

“Thanks,” I muttered and threw a dirty sock at her.

I pulled my shirt over my head as Elle rifled through her bag. I needed sleep. A lot of it. “I was hoping there might be warm water left for me,” I said, glancing at her.

“Of course. Let me get my things out of the shower.” Elle disappeared into the candlelit bathroom and I grabbed my bag.

“You’re acting like a goober,” Sophie said. I could feel the burn in my cheeks.

“I thought you were going to bed,” I deadpanned, which only earned me a pleased smile. As prompted, Sophie and Thea crawled under their respective sleeping bags, both of them yawning.

“It’s all yours,” Elle whispered and stood at the edge of the queen bed, folding up her “dirty” clothes to put into our dirty bag.

I walked past her, into the steamy bathroom. It was warm and muggy, like a sauna. While the heat felt like a small miracle, I wasn’t sure how Elle of all people could stand it.

“Here’s a clean towel,” she said. The bathroom was probably 5’ x 8’ but felt more like 4’ x 4’ as she leaned in and set it on the counter.

I pulled out my razor and Elle paused, appraising me in the mirror. “Grooming, huh?”

“I figured I could at least make my goatee look less like a beard.”

Elle chuckled softly and turned to leave. “Enjoy your shower.”

“I plan to,” I told her as the door clicked shut behind her. I stared at my reflection, somewhat horrified. I wasn’t sure of the last time I’d actually looked in anything other than a rearview mirror. My hair was shaggy and nearly to my shoulders, which is why it was always pulled back. My mustache was long enough to tickle my lip and any remnants of a goatee were long gone. Yes, grooming and a hot shower were in order before my head hit the pillow.

Sleep couldn’t come fast enough, and yet I took my time in the bathroom, soaking under the hot water as I scrubbed the dirt from every muscle. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be really, truly clean. I let the water roll over me until it cooled, then climbed out to dress.

The air was brisk, but the tile was warm beneath my feet from the steamy room and I towel dried my hair then brushed my teeth. Dressed and cleaned, I blew out the three-wick candle, halfway burned, and opened the bathroom door.

A candle on the headboard was all that lit the room. Elle was curled up under the covers, facing the wall with only a sheet covering her. I smiled; she didn’t have to pretend to be cold anymore.

I padded around the bed, setting my dirty clothes and toiletries on top of my bag to deal with tomorrow. And with great anticipation, I pulled up the comforter and crawled in beneath it.

All I could feel was Elle’s warmth. It emanated off of her like she was made of the sun, and as much as I tried to ignore it, my instinct was to pull her close.

It had been a while since I laid on a mattress or slept in an actual bed with a woman. My wife. The months she’d been gone felt more like eons, and yet like it was only yesterday, too. I wondered if it would ever get easier imagining my life without her. Or if I ever wanted it to. To my surprise another question popped into my mind too: what if I miss my second and last chance to truly live?

“Goodnight,” Elle whispered.

I stared at her back, at the damp hair that splayed against her pillow. “Night, Elle.”

I blew out the candle and rolled to my other side, then tried and failed to fall asleep.

61

Sophie

April 19

Adele. Journey. I was even guilty of listening to a little Bieber and One Direction from time to time, especially when my boyfriend Jesse and I were fighting. I missed my stereo and social media, watching other people’s ridiculous problems so I didn’t have to think about my own. Now the world was small even if it was bigger than before, more vast and unpredictable. Or maybe it had always been that way, only now I lived in it and could actually feel it.

There was a peace in the woods here, different from Jade’s house. The lodge felt like a fresh canvas of white views and jagged peaks—a promise of something new and sort of exciting. Even if more housemates came with it.

I peered up at the wraparound deck where Ross and Bert had been chatting over their morning coffee. I needed to get my power under control, and figure out what exactly I’d found in Ross’s head. He wasn’t a bad guy, just very broken and even more lost. His mind was different, and I wasn’t sure if it was part of his PTSD or because of something else. Even though I wanted to know, mostly I didn’t.

I stopped at the crest of the hill and stared out at the pines and willows that jetted up toward the sky like fingertips trying to reach the sun. If I held my breath, I could almost hear the Yukon River flowing beyond them. If it hadn’t been for my dream, I would’ve been able to enjoy it.

I heard the crunch of Alex’s steady footsteps. “Is everything okay?”

I wanted to ask him the same question. He was the one who had been none to subtly avoiding me again. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Come on,” he said. “Tell me.”

“I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“Bad mattress?”

I shook my head. “Bad dream.”

“Intriguing.”

I glared at him. “There were intruders and my legs were broken,” I told him. It was a recurring dream I had growing up, worrying my legs wouldn’t work properly. My mom drilling into me when I didn’t keep up with my leg exercises, even when the doctor said I was fine, didn’t help either. There had never been psychopathic villains in my dreams before though.

“I couldn’t stand or reach my gun in time and they shot me.” Not having a power that would help me save my life if I needed it was even more depressing.

“Geez, Soph. That’s—rough.”

“What’s your greatest fear, Alex?”

His eyebrow twitched and he tilted his head, like I’d asked him to commit a crime or something. “Why?” he asked warily. “I mean, don’t you already know?”

I shook my head, not because I didn’t already have an idea, but because I wanted him to tell me something about himself. “I don’t know everything about you, Alex. I already told you that.”

He widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t know,” he said, tapping his chin. Theatrics. Dramatics. Jokes. It was always something with him. “I try not to think about what scares me.” That part was true. He shoved everything into a vault, pretending it wasn’t there—until the vault was overflowing.

“Mine is being weak,” I admitted.

“Why, because of those stupid leg braces I saw in photos at your house in Whitely? A lot of kids have those—”

“It’s not only that.” It was a lot of things. “My power, too.”

He threw his arms up. “Why does that make you feel weak?”

“Well, for starters, I hesitated shooting that guy in Slana. Oh, and my power is pretty useless. It’s not like feeling someone’s emotions sucks the life out of them. And that would be shitty if it did; I don’t want to have to suffer in order to use my ability. Oh, wait. I already do,” I uttered.

“Don’t be like that, Soph. You’ll get a handle on it, and once we’re settled we can start target practice again to make you feel more comfortable shooting. And I bet Ross knows some good moves, being in the Army. Or Jackson, he was going to teach you self-defense at some point. Right?”

I nodded. “True.”

“Okay, look—” he stepped in front of me. His eyes searched mine as he formulated a plan. “I promise to help you once we get settled okay? We can learn shit together.”

“You already know how to fight,” I told him. His openness immediately faltered and I hated my mouth in that moment. More memories I had that he wanted kept in the vault.

“No, I don’t know how to fight.” He exhaled and shook his head. He hated that part of him, the street kid who did what he had to. The kid who saw and did dark things to stay alive. He didn’t understand how strong he was, but of course I couldn’t tell him how much I saw and how I felt about it.

“Well, you can’t fight and I can’t fight, so I guess we’re even,” I said more bubbly to break the stillness. “You’re right, we’ll train together. The next guy who breaks in won’t be so lucky.”

“Good,” he said, but for the first time, I wasn’t sure what Alex was thinking when he looked at me. It looked like uncertainty and affection, but which kind of affection—sisterly or something more—I wasn’t certain of either. “We’ll work every day until you feel safe, with or without Jackson and Elle or anyone else’s help, for that matter.”

Somehow, even when I knew Alex was uncertain how to act around me, he could still be so genuine. Everything he ever told me—seriously told me—felt like a promise. His words always nestled their way into the cold spots in my bones and warmed me from the inside out.

He stared at my biceps through my jacket. “But we do have our work cut out for us,” he teased.

“Hey, Alex,” Jackson called from the deck. We both glanced back at him.

“Shit, I was supposed to get you and Elle.” Alex looked at me. “Jackson wants us to circle up so we can iron things out.”

Jackson stared down at us, frowning. It had been permanently etched in his brow since he’d woke up. “Where’s Elle?”

“I’ll get her,” I offered. “She’s at the river taking photos.”

He glanced toward the water. “Thanks. We’ll meet up in the living room.”

I waved in answer, then headed down the trail toward the water. I’d come a long way from a fourteen-story building, and I tried to imagine what life would look like a few years from now. Would I be a badass? I sure as hell hoped so. Would Alex still be around or will he have completely pushed me away by then? God, I hoped not.

I sighed and followed the muddy trail down to the water. Willows and scratchy, defrosting branches lined the path and I tried to imagine how beautiful everything would be in full bloom during the spring.

“Elle? Jackson wants to meet.” I heard a rustle in the bushes and followed the bend in the path a bit farther as I rounded a boulder.

I gasped when I saw a mass of black. Froze. My heart thudded, and I was about to scream, then everything went black.

62

Jackson

April 19

I paced the window, waiting for Elle and Sophie to come up the trail. I’d had a bad feeling since I woke up and now wasn’t the time to worry about taking pictures.

“Where the hell are they?” I glared at Alex. “It’s been almost an hour.”

Alex set the maps in his lap on the coffee table and walked over to the window. “You know as much as me. Sophie said she would get Elle . . .” He scanned the tree line, like I hadn’t done it a hundred times already.

I’d finally gotten drunken Bert off the couch long enough to get some coffee in him. Ross was up and showered, hell, the kids were easier to wrangle than the rest of the lot.

Apprehension mounting, I headed out the sliding door onto the deck. “Elle! Sophie!” I hurried down the steps and stopped on the crest of the hill. “Let’s wrap it up!”

But a sickening feeling settled inside of me when they didn’t answer. “Elle?” Resting my hand on my Glock, I marched through the yard, past the fire pit, and down the path. “Elle!” I shouted, but it was fear lacing my voice, not anger.

The sickening feeling coiled, alive in my chest as I ran the length of the trail. My heart raced as I thought of everything that could’ve happened. Bears. A lunatic. That they’d fallen in the Yukon and gotten swept away.

I stopped at the end of the path at the muddy bank of the water. I looked upstream and then down. The water drifted, but not strong enough yet to carry them away. “Sophie!”

My boot slipped in the mud, and I caught myself on the trunk of a pine tree. I blinked, staring down at bootprints on the bank, different sizes overlapping each other, and I held my breath and stared.

No. Whatever this was, it wasn’t happening.

Muscles wound so tight it hurt to breathe, I crouched down with my gun clutched in one hand as I felt the mud with the other. Some prints had grip outsoles, which could be any tactical shoe, but they were too big to be Sophie and Elle’s. And they were fresh, wet and glistening in the sunlight.

“Fuck!” I kicked brush and twigs out of the way, scouring the water’s edge for more shoe prints, but there were none that I could find. There was nothing but a slight breeze and rippling water. I analyzed the branches, looking for some that were broken and would give me some sign. There was nothing.

“Fuck!” I trampled through the trees, running my fingers through my hair. I needed to get a grip. I needed to calm down and think.

“What is it?” Alex ran to a stop at the mouth of the trail.

“Elle’s gone,” I breathed, grabbing my head. “Elle and Sophie are gone.” I hit my fist against a hapless tree trunk. “Someone was here.” We hadn’t been in Whitehorse twelve hours and my worst fears had already come true.

Ross and Bert ran up behind Alex, and I spun around. The shoe prints were military grade, just like the shoes he was wearing. Grabbing Ross by his collar, I lifted him to his feet. “Where are they?” I roared.

“Fuck, Jackson, I don’t know!” His eyes were wide with surprise, his chest heaving but not as much as mine was, with fear and pure rage.

“You’ve been acting weird since we got here. I know you know something. Tell me or I swear—”

“Jackson!” Alex shouted. “Calm down. We don’t know it was him. He’s been with us this whole time.”

Ross glanced at Alex then back at me. “Listen to the kid, Jackson. You’re out of your damn mind if you think I was behind this.”

I let go of him, and Ross stumbled to the ground, trying to catch his balance. “Jesus, Jackson. How did I go from your bro to being your number one suspect?”

“You’re the only one who knows we’re here,” I growled.

He laughed, humorless and fuming. “Are you shitting me, man? You drove a fucking caravan through an empty city last night, everyone knows you’re here.”

I took a step toward him. “There are survivors then?” People who would hurt Elle and Sophie the first chance they got.

“I don’t know, Jackson. I didn’t exactly walk into town with an old drunk and knock on doors looking for psychopaths who were interested in post-apocalyptic Girl Scout cookies.”

I frowned.

“Look, Jackson. I know this looks bad and is the last thing you want to hear right now, but we know what sort of people are out there. Anyone could’ve taken them.”

My mind began to swirl, and I was in the hospital all over again, surrounded with the cold sweat of fear and desperation.

Alex grabbed my arm, his eyes wild with the same desperation I felt. “We have to find them.”

I nodded. Yes. We did. And Elle wasn’t like Hannah. She wasn’t helpless. Elle was strong, and she was fierce, and she would protect Sophie and herself, we just had to find them.

I ran past Alex and Ross, toward the house.

“Where are you going?” Ross called, and I heard the clomp of footsteps running up behind me.

I needed Beau. “I’m getting more help.”

63

Elle

April 19

My mind flicked on, like a switch turning on the light in a dark room, and I opened my eyes. I blinked as my vision adjusted to the darkness, sprinkled with filtered light from outside the room. I was confined and the cement floor beneath me was cold as ice. I hadn’t been cold in so long, it seeped its way into my body, riddling my bones. The sharp scent of metal and stale air filled my nostrils.

A man sat on a chair outside the door, bathed in a halo of light that shone from the skylight above him. His face was cast in shadows, and my thoughts flashed to an unwanted, familiar form standing beside my bed. A breath caught in my throat, and I tried to move back—to crawl as far away as I could—but my hands were tied behind me. I moved barely an inch before I slammed into a cold wall instead.

Dr. John wasn’t standing there though. It was a trick of the mind, because he was dead.

Wasn’t he?

“Who are you?” I ground out. My voice was a hollow sound that echoed in the sterile room surrounding me. An open door was all that separated me from him.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” he said with easy amusement.

My eyes opened wider and I pursed my lips. It was a unique voice, a familiar voice I tried to place. Not Dr. John’s, but it belonged to someone I knew. I searched the foggy depths of my mind for a memory.

Then, the man from the river flashed to mind. I’d been crouched down, taking a picture of morning dew in a spider web, when I turned around and a man in a hood stood behind me, and just as suddenly everything had gone black.

My blood boiled, but not with the anger and rage and the fear I knew I could use to my advantage—but, I couldn’t feel the fire at all, and panic wound its way through my veins in its place.

“What do you want?” I bit out, trying desperately to grasp hold of my vehemence rather than my fear. There was no telling what power he had, or what he was capable of. “Whatever it is—”

“I just want to talk.”

“And you had to kidnap me to do that? You couldn’t simply ask?” I spat, not buying a single word.

“Truly. No need to get angsty.” There was an intrigued lilt to his words that worried me.

“Talk about what?” I seethed. “Because this isn’t a great way to make friends.”

He tossed his head back and chuckled. “Good point.” The man stood up, still covered in shadow as he walked closer to my cell. His footsteps echoed against the concrete. “You’re right though, I’m being rude. I’m very sorry about all this.”

“Sorry for what, abducting me?”

He laughed again. “I guess that is what it looks like, doesn’t it?” He paced back and forth, like a warden might do, but his steps were less rigid, even if his fatigues were standard issue. He clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his feet a little. There was no doubt in my mind that he was crazy. “These days,” he said, contemplative, “it’s not exactly smart to assume good intentions, am I right? I’m not one of the bad guys, though. I promise.”

I tried to wiggle my wrists free of my bindings, what felt like cuffs and rope combined. “Funny. That’s what all the bad guys say.”

He shrugged. “I have a couple questions and then I’ll let you go. It’s that simple. Or, I might decide to lock you in here forever. I haven’t decided yet.”

“You mean, you’ll let me go if you like my answers,” I clarified.

He wagged his finger at me as he stepped into the light. “You’re smart, and you’ve got some fire in you.” He was a middle-aged man with crazy blonde hair and a beak-like nose. He had beady eyes and a permanent smile parting his lips, exposing the gap between his straight white teeth. “I like it.” He nodded appreciatively. “It means you’re not easily swayed.”

I couldn’t listen to his psychobabble much longer. The room felt like it was closing in on me, like this might be the last place I’d ever see, and if that was the case, I wouldn’t go down without a fight. “Jackson!” I screamed. “Help, Jackson! I’m in here!” I waited for the fire in my blood to surge and swirl, but it never came. “Jackson!”

“It’s okay, scream. Go ahead. Get it out.” He began to pace, like he expected it, and tears burned the backs of my eyes. “Scream until your heart’s content. No one can hear you.”

“Beau! I’m in here!” I tugged against my binding, squeezing my eyes shut. “Beau!” Maybe no person could hear me, but if the wolves could hear me, maybe Beau would too. I was probably underground in a bunker. I hit my fists on the floor, my chains clanking, and I shouted from the top of my lungs.

The man turned on his heel to leave. “When you’re ready, let me know and we can talk. I’ll pop in to see your friend in the cell down the hall while you get the shouting and the screaming out of your system.”

He could only take one step before I screamed, “Wait!” My heart lurched to a screeching halt. I could barely form the words. “What—who? Please don’t hurt them—”

“Uh, I didn’t get a name before we snatched her,” he mused, tapping his scruffy chin with his crooked index finger. “She’s younger, about five-foot-six or so with reddish-blonde hair.”

“Sophie,” I breathed. “Please, don’t hurt her, she’s just a kid.”

“I won’t hurt her unless I have to,” he said so nonchalantly, I wanted to rip his head off.

“Fine, ask me then, whatever you want. Ask me and I’ll tell you.” I wanted him to forget Sophie was in the other room. I needed his attention on me while I figured out a plan. If I could lure him closer maybe the fire would return.

“So,” he said, pulling his chair from the shadows so he could sit closer to the doorway. “I want to know why he sent you.” His army fatigues were old and tattered.

While I understood the words, I didn’t understand the question. I blinked. “What?”

The psychopath chuckled again, laughing at everything that didn’t go exactly his way. I contemplated whether he’d been crazy before or if it was because of the outbreak. Either way, this kind of crazy was unpredictable, which meant there was a chance of getting out alive, and a chance this cell might become my cement tomb.

“Look,” I said, and spoke slowly and as carefully as I could. “No one sent me. I was passing through Whitehorse with Sophie, and we’d stayed at an abandoned house by the river. That’s all.”

“Are you related?” he asked, catching me off guard. “You two don’t really look related.”

“Uh, no. We’re not related. We’re just . . . family,” I said, blinking back tears. “Did any of your relatives survive?” I hedged, wondering if this was a tangent I could take advantage of.

“Not that I’m aware of,” he said easily. “But then,” he said more thoughtfully, crossing his arms over his chest. “I never really had any family, not for many years, at least. I’ve been what most people would call a ‘strange bird’ all my life. Very introverted, a little crazy, but all the best people are, am I right?” He pointed at me as if he expected me to laugh with him too.

I tried to smile, to act like he didn’t petrify me, but I couldn’t manage it. “Sophie’s just a teenager. Please, let her go.”

He stared down at his hands as he made a show of thinking about it. “But she’s not just an ordinary teenager, is she?” He peered up then, looked right into my eyes, past the shadows covering half my face, past whatever threat he saw in me. It wasn’t really a question. He already knew way too much.

My chest heaved and my chin trembled.

“Don’t worry, I’m not like those kooks you’ve seen out there. I’m not after kids. I’m on the lookout for military folk, yellow-bands and black-bands. I hear they’re out in force these days, and I, quite frankly, want to kill every last one of them. So,” he said, his easiness solidifying to something more terrifying. “Are you here on his behalf, and do I need to kill you?”

“Whose behalf?” I whispered, knowing I would never get out of here if he thought I was part of some delusion. “I don’t know what bands you’re talking about—I don’t know who he is.”

The angles in his face sharpened. Whatever amusement he’d had was gone.

He stood up, and began pacing. Then, he turned and walked closer to my open door again. “I’ve been telling people for years the government would do this. They would unleash a super killer that would take out the world, but in all fairness, I was wrong about one thing. The Virus didn’t take out the world, just 90 percent of human life.”

My breath caught in my throat. “You’re the voice from the radio.”

“Oh, good!” A grin engulfed his face, exposing the gap in his teeth again. “You’ve heard the show. The name’s Woody. I don’t have much of an audience these days.” He shrugged. “But what are you gonna do?” He lifted a shoulder, not expecting an answer and leaned against the door frame. “I might’ve been wrong about the specifics, but I think I still earned that point. In my opinion, at least.”

“This was the government?”

“I’ve known something was coming for years,” Woody said, talking over me. “Yet somehow people are surprised.” He chuckled to himself and shook his head. “I tried to tell them. Doesn’t it suck always being right?”

The more Woody paced, the more desperate I was to find the fire inside that had been gaining strength for months. Where was it when I needed it; why wouldn’t it come?

“I should probably tell you that your mutated capabilities won’t affect me,” he said. “Or anyone in here, for that matter.”

“What—” I tried not to dwell on how many people he was referring to. “How did you . . .”

“I might be crazy, but I’m not stupid,” he explained. “I wasn’t gonna bring you down here just so you could kill me, silly.” Woody grinned, amused by my confusion. “But, all jokes aside, I will kill you if you don’t tell me what you’re doing here. I’m a fair man, but my patience tends to run out when I get bored. Probing to get the truth is fun,” he mused, “but a bit messy. I don’t like to get my hands dirty if I don’t have to.” He tapped his chin with his index finger again. “It’s a quirk of mine, I guess. I’ve always had it.”

“I told you!” I shouted, done listening to him talk in circles. I hit my fists on the ground, regretting it instantly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I don’t know about different colored bands or know anything about the government—I don’t know anything!” I waited for the pain to shoot through my side and chest from my cracked rib, but everything in my body felt funny. Everything felt wrong. The heat was gone. The fire and the hum inside me—all of it was numb.

I let my head roll back and swallowed a whimper. “What else do you want me to say?” I croaked. “I. Don’t. Know. Anything. I don’t know how the virus spread or what it even is. I don’t even know what’s wrong with me. I thought I was dead and then I woke up, and now I’m not the same. Just let me see Sophie. Please!” Silent tears streamed down my cheeks, a cold sweat making me feel sick to my stomach, like the fever was coming on all over again.

“What do you think, Stanley? Is she telling the truth?”

“Oh my God,” I groaned. He was talking to himself now too. I lifted my head and saw another shadow drawing closer up the hall, footsteps barely echoing. I blinked. Waited. Held my breath. I imagined an executioner in blood-stained robes coming to take me to a chamber much worse than the one I was in. My eyes blurred as tears breached my lashes, and my throat burned.

I only saw the tips of his pointed shoes before an unassuming man peeked his head into the doorway to look at me. Stanley wasn’t a monster. He was thin and tall, with combed back hair and black-rimmed glasses. He wore a dark suit and yellow bow tie. I wasn’t sure if his presence made me feel worse or better.

He whispered something to Woody, but I couldn’t make it out.

“You’ll have to speak louder, Stanley. That’s my bad ear.”

“She’s telling the truth,” he murmured, glancing in at me. He looked almost sympathetic.

Stanley’s words were like a warm blanket of hope. I wanted to reach out and hug him for saying such a glorious thing. Even if he was likely crazy, he was also my only hope.

“Does she know the General?” Woody eyed me warily.

Stanley shook his head. “I, um . . . I don’t think so.”

Woody sighed and crossed his hands over his chest. Woody sighed and crossed his hands over his chest. “Do you know the General, Elle?”

I gasped. How did he know my name?

“Tell the truth now, you’re doing so well.”

I glanced between the two men, praying this wasn’t a trick. I shook my head. “No,” I whispered. “I don’t know the General.”

Woody’s eyes narrowed on me and I could see the contours of his jaw flexing in the dim light. The seconds felt like minutes until as he contemplated, then suddenly, his brow lifted and he smiled, big and wide, and crazier than before. “Well, why didn’t you say so from the start?”

A door shut down the hall, and I realized Stanley was gone again.

“In that case,” Woody said, walking into the doorway, his hands on his hips. “Sorry for the inconvenience, Elle. You should’ve told me you were one of us.”

“Wait—what?” I stared at him, gaping. His behavior was worse than whiplash.

“It’s all just a precaution.” He waved my confusion away. “You can’t trust the government, you can’t trust the General . . . they have spies everywhere.”

He was waiting for me to stand. “Come on now, let’s get you out of these silly bindings. I’ll take you to your friend.”

My adrenaline rushed through me, making me almost dizzy. Whatever I’d woken up to, whatever fear I had for my life, was still hovering, and I wasn’t sure I could trust him.

He took a step closer and I took a step back. “You broadcast your show from a dungeon? And you’re not military,” I processed aloud, trying to put the pieces together.

He chuckled. “Not anymore. And it’s not a dungeon, they don’t make those anymore.”

I laughed this time, hysteria bubbling up inside me. I still wasn’t convinced that he wasn’t going to have another change of heart.

Woody motioned for me to turn around, and he pulled a key out from his pocket.

It couldn’t have been that simple. He was crazy; he wouldn’t just let me go. “What’s the catch?” I took a step further back. “You kidnap me, threaten me, and now you’re just . . . letting me go?”

“No catch, but just remember,” he said, reaching for my cuffs again. “Your powers won’t work here, not until you leave.”

“What about Stanley,” I said. “His powers worked.”

Woody lifted a bushy, blonde eyebrow and held the key just shy of my lock. “Stanley is my friend, I allow his Ability to work.”

I was too overwhelmed to process all that could mean, but my mind raced with the possibility of my overtaking him; I had fingernails, I had sheer desperation and willpower.

Woody’s smile faltered a little as he put the key in the lock. “Don’t try anything stupid, either.” He dipped his chin. “Promise?”

I nodded, if a little hesitant. “Promise.”

“Good. Let’s get you to your girl.” The bindings clanked to the concrete, my hands feeling weightless without the heavy metal holding them down. I rubbed at the raw skin and took two steps back from Woody.

He gestured out the cell door, but I didn’t move. “I’m not going to bite.”

“No, you were only going to probe me,” I told him, skeptical. I pressed my palms to the cold cement wall behind me. “Were you really going to probe me?” I was unable to resist asking. I hoped he was just exceedingly convincing.

Woody hooted, which wasn’t entirely unexpected. He enjoyed all of this far too much. “Does it matter? I don’t need to now, do I?”

Definitely not. I shook my head and rubbed my arms, shivering. The adrenaline made it impossible to stop shaking, that or the cold I wasn’t used to feeling. More than anything, I prayed Sophie was really here, wherever we were, and that Woody was taking me to her. I had no reason to trust him, but I also had little choice.

“Now,” he said, gesturing toward the cell door again. “There are a few things you should probably know. Shall we?”

64

Sophie

April 19

I stared down at the sterile white table, wondering where all the bodies in the prison had gone. The place didn’t smell, in fact, it was strangely clean, like there’d been upkeep over all the months since the world stopped. And the electricity still worked here, just like at the lodge.

I picked at the syrup-saturated fruit cup Phil had given me, then stared up at him. He stood guard beside me, tactical gear on, though it didn’t look military, and he had a gun in his belt. He was young, like Alex and me, with chubby white cheeks and fluffy brown hair. He had a lot of freckles on his nose, like I did, and he definitely didn’t look like a killer, but I knew better than anyone that looks were always deceiving.

“How old are you?” I asked him, staring into his brown eyes. “And what the hell are you doing at a place like this? Is Woody your crazy uncle or something?”

Phil’s eye shifted to mine, but he didn’t answer.

I’d been sitting in the room for so long with silent Phil to keep me company, all the heart-racing fear I’d had diminished more and more by the minute. They hadn’t hurt me and they’d given me water and food. I was antsy and annoyed more than anything, waiting for Elle, praying she was okay. Somehow I knew she was.

This place was strange. Everything felt huge and vacuous without people sitting at the white tables or standing in line at the food counter. I glanced up at the cameras mounted on the ceiling. I wasn’t sure if they were from before, or if someone was watching me.

Maybe I wasn’t overly worried because I knew if Woody tried anything with Elle, she’d fry his ass. But I wasn’t sure it was that either. Phil didn’t seem like a killer, not like the ones I’d seen so far anyway. Woody, on the other hand, was clearly crazy, though whether or not he was the dangerous kind, I hadn’t decided yet. He promised I’d be fine if Elle gave him the info he needed about the General, but since we knew nothing, I wasn’t sure how he’d react.

My stomach turned as I considered just how much they could hurt us if they really wanted to, because even if Alex and Jackson found us, it wasn’t easy getting into a prison. In fact, they might die trying.

I speared at a syrup-soaked grape. I’d felt strangely lighter since I’d woken up, too. I actually liked it, even if I didn’t know why. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t worried. “What is it you can do?” I asked Phil, wondering if he’d engage if I just kept asking question after question. He might get tired of my voice and decide to give in.

His eyes shifted to me again, but only for a second before he refocused on the bathroom sign located on the other side of the cafeteria. “It doesn’t hurt to talk, right? I mean, you guys can’t get that many visitors around here.” I stabbed a diced peach, deciding I’d eat that at least. “The place isn’t exactly inviting,” I muttered. “And,” I said, pointing to the hallway with my plastic fork. “Who was that slinky guy walking down the hall earlier? The one with the bow tie.”

Phil remained silent.

“I mean, why was he so dressed up? Who does he have to dress nice for? Woody?” I choked out a laugh.

I had half a mind to reach out and touch Phil just to see what I could find out.

“I could get the answers from you myself, you know?” It was true. Even if what I could do wasn’t exactly petrifying, it was enough to get his thoughts wandering a bit.

Phil shifted his weight, finally looking at me. “You mean your Ability?”

My eyebrows rose, nearly touching my hairline. “My what?”

“The powers . . . They’re called Abilities.”

“Um, okay . . .” I rolled my eyes. “Why can’t I call it what I want?”

“I’m just saying that’s what they’re called.”

The fact that he was willing to argue with me was promising, so I egged him on. “Says who?”

“Stanley,” he answered tersely. “He knows everything about the Virus.”

“Everything?”

Phil nodded. “He was with the General until the Re-gen Rebellion.”

I didn’t know what the hell a Re-gen was but a rebellion sounded terrifying. “I didn’t realize there were enough of us left for there to be a rebellion,” I mused. “Wait, who’s The General first of all?” It sounded like a crazy tale having to do with Woody’s conspiracy radio broadcasts, but a part of me knew that if Elle could turn herself into a lady phoenix and I could find out who Phil’s best friend in third grade was with a single touch, crazy, impossible, and unbelievable were all relative now.

“The General created the Virus.” Forgetting his plans to ignore me, Phil sat down across from me at the table, making the whole thing shift and squeak and my fruit cup slosh around. “Woody said Stanley was one of the General’s most trusted Truth Guards, so he knew how to get out of the Colony when the timing was right.”

Frowning, I leaned closer. “And of all the places Stanley could’ve gone, he went to Woody?”

Phil nodded with too much excitement, and I began to think he really was insane. “Rumor has it,” he continued, “Woody was on the General’s watch list of potential threats a decade ago, but the General thought he was too crazy to worry about, so he didn’t bother silencing him.”

“As in, murder him?” I gulped, but I wasn’t sure why I was surprised.

“He did kill nearly everyone in the world—on purpose,” Phil deadpanned.

Okay, so maybe Phil wasn’t crazy, just naive? “What’s a Truth Guard then? You said Stanley was a Truth Guard.”

“A truth teller—the General’s paranoid, so he surrounds himself with people whose Abilities he can use to manipulate and control everyone. Some of his men were mind-controlled.”

“And the others?” My eyes were wide, and my mind swirled with far too many questions I feared to ask, yet felt I had to. It was a fascinating and horrifying tale that seemed fictional, but Phil’s words were shaking with truth. He was either brainwashed or he’d seen enough and heard enough to believe a power-hungry fanatic was trying to control the world, or what was left of it anyway.

“The others follow him willingly,” he spat and pursed his lips. “They help him because they believe in what he’s doing.”

“Or they’re too scared not to,” I thought aloud. If a lunatic with an arsenal of powers behind him wanted my help and my only defense was a shotgun since my power couldn’t help me, I might do the same. “Where’s the General now?” I breathed, frightened to hear the answer.

“He has a colony in Colorado. I’ve heard the radio broadcast; they’ve been urging survivors to go there since December.”

“But, if the General caused the virus—”

“Then it can’t be good.”

I shook my head. “No, it can’t.” It was hard to imagine how all of what Phil was saying could’ve been going on while we’d been trying to survive the winter. I narrowed my eyes and glared at him, staring into his watchful, brown eyes. It was probably all a ploy. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

“I’m—well . . .”

I tilted my head and crossed my arms. “You’re trying to distract me or put nonsense in my head—how do I know you’re not the General?”

Phil’s entire face changed and he stood up. “My entire family is dead,” he snapped. “You think I wanted to watch my sister and mom die?” He pointed out the door then let out a breath. “At least you have her.” His cheeks burned red, and he shook his head. “I shouldn’t even be talking to you.” Phil took his stance at the end of the table again and resumed his glare at the bathroom sign.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I’d clearly hit a nerve. “But you did kidnap us. So . . .”

His eyes shifted to me again, lingered, then the double doors to the cafeteria creaked opened as Elle and crazy-haired Woody walked in.

Brimming with relief, I ran to Elle, apparently more worried Woody wouldn’t keep his word than I’d thought.

“Soph,” Elle breathed, cringing as I wrapped my arms around her. Her body was so cold through her long sleeves and pants. But she was okay, and Woody had kept his word. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?” She glanced from me to Phil and then to Woody.

“No, they didn’t hurt me.” I took a step back and assessed her crooked ponytail and her red wrists. Gently, I grabbed her hand, feeling no spark at all when I touched her.

“The fire’s gone,” she whispered, registering the confusion on my face.

I nodded, staring at my hands in hers. I felt and saw nothing. “Me too.”

“Yeah, about those Abilities,” Woody said, sitting down at the cafeteria table. He took my fork and skewered the last two pieces of fruit into his mouth. “There’s a way to block them, but we won’t go into that right now.” He leaned his elbow on the tabletop and folded his hands in front of him. “When you leave, they’ll come back. Don’t worry your pretty heads.”

I didn’t bother mentioning it was actually a relief not to have mine. It was an incredible lightness I’d never appreciated before and hadn’t been able to in months.

“Fine. Now let us go. We answered your questions,” Elle told him. “We did what you needed. Our people are probably—”

“Look,” Woody said in all seriousness, “I’m happy to let you both go on your merry little way, but I have a proposition for you first.”

65

Jackson

April 19

Three hours. One hundred and eighty-nine minutes was what it took to get gear, jump in the truck, and follow the wolves until they found Elle and Sophie’s scent four miles upriver.

We’d ditched the trucks on the side of the road, hoofing it behind the wolves as they scattered and sniffed, searching for whatever trace they could find that would take us to them. The closer to the city we drew, the more panicked I became.

“A boat!” Alex shouted from ahead, and I ran through the trees, toward him. “They can’t be far then, right?”

“God, I hope not,” I said, pivoting to search the mud for more tracks.

“Guys, they found something!” Beau shouted.

I nodded for Alex to follow Beau and the wolves as I holstered my gun in my waist strap and conducted a quick search of the boat. Other than an emergency kit strapped to the side, there was nothing that would help us.

I glanced up, barely able to see Alex’s green jacket through the trees as he followed the wolves further and further away. I exchanged a quick look with Ross, who was still angry with me for accusing him of having a part in it, and then jogged after Alex and Beau. I weaved through the willow trees with Ross at my side, grateful to have him there, despite my accusation.

“I told you I’m sorry. It was a feeling. I’ve had it since I got here. I thought—”

“You thought your best friend could do something like that,” he bit out. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Over here!” Beau shouted brusquely as he ran behind the wolves toward the road. There were tracks in the mud as we jogged through the trees. We didn’t know where they led or where we would end up. We were losing daylight, so creating a solid plan would have to come later, once we knew what we were up against.

“Are you sure Thea’s okay with Bert?” It might’ve been my tenth time asking, I was losing count.

Ross scanned the woods behind us for unwanted followers. “She’ll be fine. Now do you want to worry about Bert and Thea or find Elle and Sophie?” he ground out.

As we broke through the trees at the highway, a rumble in the distance echoed through the still air. “Hold up!” I shouted, heart fumbling to a halt. “Hurry! Back into the forest!” Everyone darted behind cover, but something urged me to stay at the edge of the road.

“Jackson!” Ross called. “Get your ass in here.”

I couldn’t move. Deep down I needed to stay put as a beat-to-shit, lifted Chevy Blazer with blackened windows slowed to almost stopping a few dozen yards away.

I lifted my gun, hearing everyone behind me shift their own in their hands, followed by the sound of bullets sliding into their chambers. At least whoever was inside wouldn’t be unscathed if they tried anything.

The passenger door swung open and two feet hit the ground, and a familiar strawberry blonde jumped out.

“Sophie!” Beau shouted. Her face lit up as she saw us, and she jogged over. I wasn’t sure I believed what I was seeing, an unscathed Sophie.

Then Elle climbed out the back seat. She looked unscathed and it made no sense.

Apprehensive, I debated lowering my gun until Beau ran over to her, a pack of wolves trotting behind him.

Elle pulled Beau into her arms, squeezing her eyes shut as she kissed the top of his head.

It was definitely her, but how? It was too easy. “Elle?” I breathed. My feet moved of their own accord. Part of my brain told me it was a trap, she wasn’t really there, or she was bait, while the other part had me pulling her into my arms before I knew what I was doing. “What the hell—”

“I’m okay,” she whispered, warm and real against me. I gripped her tighter. I’d been terrified of what might happen to her, but until that moment I hadn’t realized I thought I might never see her again, at least not alive. If I would’ve lost her, like I’d lost Hannah, I would never come back from it. Especially if she never knew how I felt.

I balled my hands in her hair and lifted her face to mine.

“I’m okay,” she repeated, cheeks red and eyes shimmering. “He didn’t—”

I pressed my lips to hers with bruising force, needing to show her—needing her to see what she was to me. An almost imperceptible sigh hummed through her and I kissed her deeper.

Gasping for breath, I rested my forehead to hers, eyes shut as I breathed her in, willing her warmth to consume me. She was more than my partner in all of this. I knew that now.

When I opened my eyes, she was staring at me. She cupped my hand in hers and kissed the inside of my palm as she looked up at me.

“Well, what do you know? I didn’t see that one coming.” The man standing by the brown Blazer chortled.

My eyes shot to him. He had unruly blonde hair and an unnervingly wide smile. Then, I glanced at the driver who aimed a rifle at me through the window.

“Don’t worry, we come in peace.” The man held up his hands in supplication then pointed to the wolves. “Who’s the animal whisperer? The kid?” He shook his head and smiled with amusement. “This just keeps getting better and better.” He stared at Beau and the wolves fanned protectively around him, their teeth bared and hackles raised.

I took a step forward and lifted my gun to aim directly for the man’s head. Victory never felt so righteous as the amusement dulled from his face.

“Jackson!” Elle pleaded, reaching for my arm. “Stop—look at me,” she demanded.

“What?” I whipped around to glare at her. “He took you both!” My hands were shaking with rage. I searched for Sophie, relieved to find she was standing beside Alex, and Ross still aimed his rifle at the crazy-haired son of bitch.

“I know, but it was a mistake,” Elle said. “This is Woody, and . . . you need to hear what he has to say.”

66

Elle

April 19

We sat around the large table in the dining room at the lodge. Jackson eyed me cautiously, still blindsided by the past ten hours; so was I. Sophie, less so, as she sat by Alex, Bert, and Ross, staring down the far end of the table at Phil and Woody. I kept asking myself what we’d gotten ourselves into coming to Whitehorse, wondering if it was better to know what they were telling us or to be blissfully ignorant. It wasn’t like we didn’t have enough to worry about already. But as I continued to absorb the information as Woody retold it to the rest of them, I knew it was better to be prepared than completely unaware, like we had been in Slana. Three crazed survivors with powers was nothing compared to what else was out there.

“So,” Ross said, taking a swig of his beer. “Let me get this straight.” He stared at Woody and Phil as they finished their bowls of soup, like they hadn’t kidnapped us and just brought our oblivious sense of security crashing down on us. “You’re telling me that we’re all alive because this genetically engineered virus was meant to kill off the weak and we’re the strong?” Ross leaned onto the kitchen table. Hands clamped into fists in front of him, like he was trying to keep his shit together.

“Genetically speaking,” Sophie said with disbelief. “Isn’t that ironic,” she muttered. I knew her childhood was punctuated with doctor appointments and physical therapy, just like my entire adulthood had been one therapist after another telling me I wasn’t crazy or weak, though deep down I questioned it frequently. Yet here we were, part of the few among the living.

Woody took a bite from his bread roll and pointed to Ross. “Yes, we are the strong—that’s exactly what I’m saying. In fact, we’re stronger than ever. That’s the General’s manifesto for crying out loud—build a clean, stable, crime-free civilization where the next evolution of mankind can thrive in peace.”

“After he kills everyone else in the entire world,” I clarified.

Woody’s hands flew up. “Hey, I might be crazy, but I’m not insane, and trust me, there’s a damn difference. This megalomaniac is the very definition of insanity.” He shook his head. “I’ve been telling people for years,” he muttered. For the first time, I wondered how different the world might be now if more people had listened, instead of having followed the pied piper so blindly.

“So, why are you here?” Jackson asked. “What do you want from us in exchange for giving us this information?”

Woody nodded with a smile. “No bullshit, I like you.” He took a gulp of his beer and glanced around the table at all of us. Half of us were in shock, the others in disbelief, but all of us were smart enough to know nothing was predictable or safe anymore. “The General has outposts everywhere,” he said. “They’ve been around for years—the Virus was a longtime coming. He didn’t cook it up overnight. And a man like him is never done. My sources tell me he’s still on a mission to take over and rebuild what’s left to his satisfaction, and we sane survivors need to stick together. He has an entire army of people with Abilities just like yours.” Woody looked at Beau and Thea, then at Sophie and Alex, but his eyes settled on me.

Jackson squeezed my hand under the table. His palm was hot, even against my skin.

“I’m not trying to scare ya, I’m just being real, and we need to be prepared.”

Inhaling deep to chase away the exhaustion and overwhelming uncertainty, I considered what might be next for us, and let out a deep breath. “What is it you want us to do, Woody?” I met his gaze, unblinking. “We’re not soldiers, we can’t fight him.”

“And let’s hope you’ll never have to,” he said, shaking his head. His crazy hair jostled. “All I’m saying is keep your eyes open and your ear to the ground. Tell me if you see something. There are rumors his yellow-bands have been in these parts, and I just ask that you share what you know with me, just like I’ll share what I know with you.”

Jackson tilted his head, studying Woody, though I wasn’t certain he was much closer to figuring anything out. It was weird. All of it was catastrophically, horribly, impossible and yet it was real. Just like the end of civilization, just like the end of anything normal. All of it was gone.

“Do you have a personal vendetta against this guy or something?” Jackson finally asked. “You should be shitting your pants if this man is as horrible as you say he is, not plotting with a band of five misfit soldiers in your prison—”

“With strong Abilities,” he added. “We’re not helpless, and we gotta keep each other safe.”

“And you knew we were here—”

“The caravan was hard to miss,” Phil grumbled, and Ross shot Jackson a satisfied look.

“And,” Jackson continued, “you kidnapped Elle and Sophie specifically, why? Because they are women?”

He laughed, full and throaty, and leaned back in his chair. “Not at all! In fact, Elle’s the strongest of all of you,” he said, pointing to me. “Trust me on that.”

I glanced at Jackson. Was I?

“Like I said, I heard a rumor a yellow-band was here last week, one that fits Elle’s description,” he said. “And I most definitely wasn’t going to take any chances. I needed to get you away from everyone, figure you out . . . I’m a little nutty sometimes, but not stupid. I couldn’t exactly interrogate you at the water’s edge now, could I? If you were here on the General’s behalf I needed to get you alone, and Sophie here was just the bargaining chip I needed.”

With a straight face and no-nonsense, Woody looked Jackson in the eye and said, “I’m not looking for a fight with you guys or with General Herodson, because I’m not suicidal, but I wasn’t born crazy, and that son of a bitch ain’t ever getting his hands on me again, I can guarantee you that. It never hurts to be prepared, paranoid—whatever you want to call it. I was as ready as I could be for all of this, wasn’t I?”

“What about you?” Ross asked Phil. “Woody’s got his reasons, but what’s your story? Why are you following the crazy man blindly?”

Phil tilted his head, glaring at Ross defensively, but his face softened when he looked at Sophie and he heaved out a breath. “I was in Whitehorse on vacation with my family when everything happened. Woody found me. Fed me. Took me in.”

“Where do you call home?” I asked softly. He was just a teenager. I hated to think of Alex or Sophie alone in this world.

“Florida.”

My eyes widened, imagining how lost and scared he must’ve felt. At least the rest of us were used to Alaska and were familiar with how harsh she could be. He, on the other hand . . .

I eyed his empty bowl. “Phil, would you like more soup? I can heat some up for you.”

Phil shook his head. “No, thank you.”

“That was damn good, though,” Woody said, slurping what was left in his bowl. He looked between Sophie and me.

Both of us deferred to Alex, still glaring at Woody with his arms crossed in the chair across the table.

Woody lifted his torn roll in gratitude. “It’s delicious.”

“Thanks. I started it this morning, so it would be ready for lunch,” he drawled. “We never got that far.” Thanks to you went unsaid.

With a chuckle, Woody tapped his index finger on the dark wood tabletop. “Should I stop in around the same time next week for more? I love a good home-cooked meal. None of us bachelors cook all that much. What they say about Twinkies is true, you know? And MREs, I’ve learned to like them.”

The rest of us sat quietly as Woody sighed, full and content and he rubbed his belly like he hadn’t just dropped a life-threatening bomb on everyone.

“So, what are we supposed to do now?” I needed big-picture problems answered before I could handle any more small talk. “You’re holed away in a prison to await a war that might never come. We just want to be left alone and live our lives.”

“Then you should do that,” he said. “I encourage it even. You stay off the grid and out of town, out here in the backcountry where no one knows where you are, and you stay here.”

“But?” Jackson said, we could all feel a warning coming.

“But that doesn’t mean trouble won’t find you, and you gotta be ready for that. That’s all I’m saying.”

“We build a fortress then,” Bert spoke for the first time. The hard-set lines around his mouth were etched with more than a dusting of age. His expression was grim, just like his tone, and his eyes crinkled with decisiveness. He had been quiet since we’d returned. Thoughtful or shocked, I wasn’t sure which.

Ross nodded. “Something easy to protect. Spring and summer—it’s the best time to get it done.”

“What, like a castle with a drawbridge or something?” Sophie asked.

The thought of anything more than a simple home in the middle of the woods seemed impossible as my mind grew too full and heavy with things out of our control.

Jackson untangled his fingers from mine and excused himself from the table. Without bothering to grab a jacket, he opened the sliding door and stepped out onto the deck.

Part of me thought I should leave him alone with his thoughts, but that’s not how I wanted to be with him anymore. After everything we’d been through, we were more than partners in this; we were in this together until the end. All of us were. Jackson was no longer alone, and he hadn’t been for a long time.

I scooted out of my chair and followed after him. Quietly, I slid the glass door closed, shutting the commotion inside behind me.

The air was cold and refreshing now that the heat ran in my veins again, a slow, increasing burn since Woody, Sophie, Phil, and I had left the prison.

“We can’t put Jade and Del at risk,” Jackson said, his voice a rumble in the still night. “We can’t go back, at least not to stay.”

“I know,” I whispered and stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder. “Woody said Phil can sense abilities, so chances are the General will have someone who can too. Even if he’s not out looking for survivors, we can’t risk it.” I rested my head on his bicep, winding my arms around his.

“All of us were science experiments,” he said, disgusted. His chest lifted with a heavy sigh.

“Hopefully they’ll just leave us alone up here and forget about us.” It was wishful thinking. We’d learned long ago that nothing was simple or came easily anymore. It didn’t mean we couldn’t hope though.

Jackson took my hand in his. The light from the house poured over him and he turned to face me. “Why don’t we carve a place out here somewhere that’s hidden and just ours. No one will care—nothing’s changed. Not really. There’s a psychopath in Colorado. Well, we’re more likely to die from one out here than ever meet the General.”

I nodded, because Jackson was right if the last four months were anything to go by.

“We live a life we want for as long as we can. We keep to ourselves. No one will find us.” His hazel eyes searched mine, frantic. It was an urgency I’d only seen the instant I stepped out of the Blazer. “I thought you and Sophie were dead,” he breathed. “And Woody isn’t even the craziest son of a bitch out here.”

I squeezed his fingers in mine. “I know.”

“Ross and Bert can set up their fortress if they want and we can help each other, sure, but I don’t want to be a hamster in a cage like the one we found in that pet store. I want us to live full lives, as much as we can. And if any of those Colorado fuckers come close, Alex can grab your hand and the two of you can fry the shit out of them.”

I laughed, not because it was funny but because it might actually be possible, and we were willing to do whatever it took to live a life away from all the craziness; it was what we’d all come to want, and for now, we could still have it.

“Okay,” I said, knowing there was nothing better we could hope for.

Jackson’s cold hand cupped my face, his thumb brushing a rogue tear from my cheek. He waited for me to change my mind or protest, but I wouldn’t.

“Let’s do it,” I breathed. I rose to my tiptoes, and wrapped my arms around his neck. It was quite probable we wouldn’t be able to avoid the General or people like him in the uncertain world we now lived in, but like the rest of the survivors, we had a whole new life to build and new discoveries to make about ourselves and those around us. I was more than okay with selfishly wanting my life with Jackson to begin, to see where our story would take us.

His eyes glistened, searching my face, and fire danced beneath the surface of my skin. Without another moment’s hesitation, I pressed my lips to his, letting it consume us both.

THE END

If you can spare two minutes, I would be a happy author girl if you’d leave a book review. They are so important to us indie authors.

Keep swiping for Sophie and Alex’s origin story in The Longest Night. Enjoy!

December 7

Sophie

December 7

I’d just wanted to feel something for once. Was that really too much to ask for? Intense passion—an unbridled sense of all-consuming desire that fed my soul and made me feel alive. I wasn’t dumb, I knew romance novels were meant to paint steamy portraits of ecstasy and lust, but I figured at least a fraction of that was possible. It’s all I’d wanted—a tiny morsel of fiction—and my first time hadn’t even come close. I wasn’t sure I could even use the word arousing, or exciting, for that matter. The second time was the same. It was uncomfortable and awkward, and thinking back, I regretted every cringeworthy second of it.

I stared down at my journal, white pages open on my peach paisley-covered lap. Worst decision EVER was traced over and over across the top, beneath my poorly rendered sketch of a deformed Fabio look-alike, with shorter hair but an equally thick jaw.

Scribbling out his face, I flung myself back against my pillows. I’d never claimed to be a Michelangelo. I liked science and formulas, and tackling questions that held answers about the natural world, even if I had to wrack my brain to find them. Sex was my current problematic equation, one with two possible outcomes.

With a groan, I shut my journal, certain it was a bad idea to write down any of these particular woes and shoved it under my pillow as I turned onto my side. I gripped the edge of the mattress in my hand and exhaled the passing nausea, like I’d done throughout the night. I wasn’t sure if it was a more permanent symptom of my boredom and stupidity or just my stressing out about the unknown at this point.

My room was dim and gray in the early morning light, which felt adequate given my mood. My body craved sleep, but my anxiety was calling the shots. I was too sick to my stomach to even close my eyes, let alone escape the impending possibilities of my future.

My mom slammed a cupboard door shut and the blender belched to life in the kitchen, making my skin crawl as I sank deeper into the mattress. The thought of eating or drinking anything made my insides lurch, and I groaned again.

I reached for my phone, charging on my side table. It was 7:00 a.m. and I still hadn’t heard back from Jesse. For the hundredth time in eight hours, I checked my text messages to make sure they’d gone through. Everything about Whitely was unpredictable, especially cell phone service in the apartment complex during the winter. Whitely was one of many tiny Alaskan towns that didn’t fare well during storm season.

Me: I need to talk to you. Call me ASAP.

Me: It’s important Jesse. Call me!

Me: If you’re playing your stupid video games, I swear to God…

Me: I’m late. Do you know what that means, idiot!!?? Like I-might-be-pregnant sort of late…

Me: Jesse, please call me. I’m seriously freaking out!

I met Jesse in middle school when I’d moved to town. He was one of those boys that was smart and quiet, sometimes even sweet. But like most guys my age, his priorities were a bit skewed, and I often wondered if I wasn’t more of an afterthought. Our graduation from friends to something more just sort of happened because we were hanging out so much; our parents and friends started to assume we were more together than we let on. In all honesty, Jesse was the best option I had in a town with only a dozen other people my age—most of them girls. My mom and his mom were friends, which meant he was “suitable” for me.

During our junior year we’d kissed, and now in the final stretch of senior year we were officially “an item”—according to my dad. But our relationship primarily consisted of us hanging out at the touristy ice cream shop on the pier, on the nights he didn’t have earth saving missions to complete with his online gaming buddies. Most of the time, I was okay with that. I’d never thought Jesse was the one or anything, but I thought he was at least decent enough to text me back, especially if his life was potentially in danger. I wasn’t sure who he’d need to be more afraid of if it turned out I was pregnant—my dad . . . or my mom.

I shoved my phone under my pillow with my journal, praying my cell would ding with a message notification, even if I got the sickening suspicion Jesse was ignoring me on purpose.

Of course he wasn’t ready to be a dad, especially since his mom still made his sandwiches every day for his lunch. I wasn’t ready to be a mom though, either, and not only might I be pregnant, but my boyfriend was blowing me off, and my best friend, Bailey, was on the East Coast, visiting her dying grandmother who’d caught a bad case of pneumonia and had yet to fully recover.

Unless I told my mom, which was the last thing on earth I wanted to do, I was alone in this. Freaking out and utterly alone. I nervously weighed my options. Option one: walk into the only market, located in the only residential building in Whitely where everyone knew who I was—if only because of my mom—to have them witness what I was buying. Option two: accompany my mom during her next trip into the city and try to sneak away long enough to make a quick purchase without her knowing. I was hoping for a more appealing option three, but I could think of nothing.

“Sophie!” My mom’s voice ricocheted through the apartment. I wondered if my neighbor, JJ, ever got tired of living next to the resident bullhorn.

Heaving out a breath, I stared up at the stark white ceiling, painted in inky shadows that filtered in through the cracked, blush-colored curtains that had been there since I was eleven. I could tell by the muffled silence outside that the snowfall had been heavy throughout the night. There were no gulls calling in the breeze, and the buoys dinging in the harbor were only audible if I held my breath to listen.

“Sophie!” she called again. Sometimes it was difficult to tell if she was using her mom voice or her mayor voice, like maybe she forgot she was talking to her daughter and not some city official she often came to verbal blows with. “You better be up . . .”

I had a dozen reasons to miss school, none of which I could tell my mom about. Exhaustion. Anxiety. Morning sickness. So I just lay there on the cusp of vomiting, my mind racing and dread settling deep into my bones as I prayed my mom was running late and would rush out the door without popping her head in to check on me.

“Your protein smoothie is on the counter!”

“Yum,” I grumbled and pulled the covers up over my face. My stomach churned at the thought of the purple, overripe banana concoction waiting for consumption.

“Soph—why haven’t I heard the shower yet?” My bedroom door opened, and I could almost feel the air in the room being sucked out as my mom inhaled an angry breath. “Sophie,” she groused. Could other teenagers hear the frustration every time their parents simply said their name?

Her high heels clomped into my room as she tore the comforter off me. “What is this?” she chided, looming over me.

“I’m sick today.”

She patted my hip. “Come on, get up.” Her long, deep red-and-mocha hair was perfectly curled at the ends, looking almost black in the morning shadows. “A shower will make you feel better. School starts in thirty minutes, and you should be dressed already.” Her favorite taupe pantsuit was perfectly pressed and her blue eyes were thinly etched with black liner. Nothing was out of place, everything was flawless and it was enough to make me finally puke, but I refrained.

“You were fine last night, Sophie.”

“No, actually, I wasn’t fine last night,” I growled and pulled the covers back up around me. “I felt like crap, and since I couldn’t sleep, I feel even worse.”

She rested her hands on her hips, eyeing me closely. I was waiting for her to ask me if I was okay, allowing me the opportunity to give her a real answer, but instead she asked, “Are you and Jesse fighting again?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Answer the question, Sophie.”

“No, we’re not. And most moms would ask if their kid is okay, especially with a crazy flu spreading throughout the lower forty-eight, and let them stay home from school if they’re feeling sick.” I glared up at her.

“Are we on the East Coast? Do you have a fever? How about any abdominal pain or vomiting?” She pursed her lips, awaiting my answer. When I said nothing, she lifted her brow triumphantly. “Sophie, you’re always mopey when you guys fight,” she said in rebuttal, and glanced at my phone cord, disappearing under my pillow. “And you sleep with your phone beside you, hoping he’ll apologize first.” She lifted an expectant eyebrow, then leaned down and rested the back of her hand against my forehead. Barely a breath passed before she shook her head. “No fever.” Satisfied, she pinned her gaze on me. “Get up.” She picked up my dirty clothes off the floor and tossed them into my hamper as she hurried back toward the door. “I’m serious,” she warned. “And make sure you tell Katie you’ll be out of school Friday.”

I sat up, my head throbbing at the sudden movement. “What? Why am I missing school Friday?”

She spared me a glance—severe enough to be considered a glare—then disappeared down the hall. “Dr. Revis.”

“Mom, I’m fine. I don’t need to see the stupid bone doctor anymore. He said I was fine last time, I’ll be fine this time.”

“You just got done telling me you’re sick!” she called, and her heels clacked against the kitchen tile floor as she rushed around.

“This is different, Mom. God—you’re always so worried.”

“Yes, I am.” She poked her head in, knotting a scarf loosely around her neck. “I worry because you never do the hip and knee exercises you’re supposed to in order to keep you strong. And don’t even get me started on the insoles I paid a fortune for that you never wear.”

“Mom—”

“You thought elementary school kids were mean? Well, Soph, teenagers are cruel. Don’t forget how miserable you were in Florida before we left. Do you want to go back to feeling singled out, the way you used to?” I hated the way she dipped her chin, lifted an eyebrow, and stared at me skeptically all at the same time.

“Like the way you’re making me feel right now?” I bit out. “Mom, no one is going to give me a hard time—”

“Get up, Sophie,” she said with exasperation. “I won’t say it again.” She disappeared from the doorway and headed back down the hall.

“Fine, but I’m not going to see Dr. Revis!” I told her. “It’s pointless.” And I didn’t need any more reminders of how different I was. I just wanted her to let me be a normal teenager for once.

Rolling my eyes, I flung my legs off the edge of the bed and studied my feet. I might’ve been slender and weak compared to some people, but I wasn’t deformed—at least not anymore, even if it had taken a few rounds of special shoes and braces to make my bones grow that way. And while I wanted to appreciate my mom’s concern, I wasn’t sure she cared about how it affected me as much as how it affected her picture-perfect facade, even when the entire building knew it was all a sham—weak-ankled, club-footed daughter and all. What a shock she would get when she found out my weak bones were the least of my problems.

“I don’t hear the shower!” she called.

“Gah!” I grabbed my phone and marched into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. If she knew why I felt sick to my stomach, she’d forget all about Dr. Revis and stupid protein shakes.

My stomach rumbled and tears burned the backs of my eyes. It had been almost six weeks since I’d been with Jesse, and Google was plenty helpful when it came to ironing out the details about the rest.

My mom was so worried about what it would look like to have a broken daughter, she’d never forgive me for staining her reputation this way.

Shame swelled in my chest and fear tightened my throat as I turned the shower on.

My mom’s knuckles rapped on the bathroom door, and I jumped, wiping the moisture from my eyes. “What?”

“Excuse you,” she said coldly through the door. “I was just going to tell you to come home right after school. Your dad wants to video chat.”

“Fine.”

She muttered something inaudible as her heels clacked away, but all I could do was imagine my dad’s already reserved expression pinching with shock and then hardening with rage as I told him that I’d done the one thing he made me promise never to do—mirror the mistake that had plagued my parents’ relationship since I was born.

Pulling my hair from my ponytail, I let the long, heavy strands fall around my shoulders, veiling me as I covered my face and cried.

Alex

December 7

I traced a crooked square over and over with my pencil. Lead powder dusted the page of my spiral notebook, creased from being shoved in Jimmy’s junk drawer since the beginning of time. Change was inevitable and something I was used to, even if it wasn’t something I was all that comfortable with. Change meant uncertainty, and with it being my first day of school in a new town, today was anything but certain. I’d manage, though. I’d get by. I’d do what was needed.

My mind drifted as I waited for my new classmates to show. Whitely was as bizarre as a town could get—a once abandoned military base turned seaside harbor, overlooking the Prince William Sound. Save for the ships coming in and out of port through the Alaska Marine Highway, there were barely enough residents and tourists combined for Whitely to be considered a true city.

There was a single road leading in and out, manned by a single light that let cars enter and exit in rotation, and if that wasn’t strange enough, the tunnel always closed after dark—or so I’d been warned. The monitored road might’ve served a purpose when the military was holed up here decades ago, but now it just felt claustrophobic; once you were in Whitely, you were stuck until the road opened again, forced to stay in a single building with the rest of the town with nowhere else to go. Unfortunately for me, I’d be trapped for another four months. I could only hope the courts dismissed my wardship from the foster care system once I turned eighteen.

I stared out at the snow-covered village, at the shipyard and tourist outposts. There wasn’t much else to look at, except for the boats in the harbor. To me, Whitely was less like the touristy trading port it was known for, and more reminiscent of a Fallout nuclear-winter world. Especially when it seemed like half of the lower forty-eight was infected with the flu.

My gaze settled on the monstrous Heston Building less than a mile away, situated at the foot of the mountains that enclosed the town. The cracked and ruined military barracks were menacing to say the least, with broken, dark windows and a weather-ravaged stone face. It was built to be a stronghold, but instead was near collapse, and bred ghost stories known throughout Alaska. Offset and forgotten from the rest of the town, it was a building I wouldn’t be exploring anytime soon. I half expected to see a putrid, flesh-eating zombie step into one of the dark voids and stare straight at me, warningly.

The barracks were the only other looming building in the cove, besides the apartment complex the school was attached to; the complex that would be my temporary home for the next 131 days, give or take. I’d gone from living in a dank, dark city one day, to a hidden hamlet the next. I wasn’t sure which was worse, dangerous streets or claustrophobia.

“Staying with your uncle will keep you out of trouble until April.” Digs might’ve thought he was right, but I wondered if that was possible. Not because I wanted to get into trouble, though sometimes making questionable decisions when hanging out with the wrong crowd seemed like the lesser of most evils. And it wasn’t like I was always in trouble, but trouble definitely seemed to find me everywhere I went—it always had, even as a little kid. For some reason, despite who and what my family was, I always had a hard time just walking away.

Once I saw the place my case manager was talking about though, I knew Digs was right. There was nothing to do in Whitely, short of skipping rocks and fishing. There was nowhere to go. There were no gangs or bad areas of town to worry about, at least not that I could see from where I sat. There weren’t even neighborhoods.

The only threat to my good behavior and sanity here was my Uncle Jimmy himself. He was a first-rate asshole, yet somehow he’d convinced Digs some tough love would be good for me. Only, I wasn’t sure Jimmy even knew how to spell love, even if he had tough down to a science with every scowl, grunt, and scratch of his junk. It was how Neanderthals expressed dominance, and it was obvious Jimmy hadn’t evolved much in his forty-odd years.

My gaze shifted to the dark hallway. Bizarre as this place was, they had school on Mondays, right?

I glanced around the empty classroom, less than inspired. The windows were big, and dying plants in painted pots lined the sills. The room’s stuffy, recirculated air made my nose tingle. Odd as it was, attached to the apartment complex for winter ease, I thought this might be the shittiest school I’d been to yet.

Much like the rest of the building, it felt more like a 1970s hotel—from the hum of the overhead lighting to the drab wall color and ribbed carpet floor—it was all leftovers from another era and needed major updates, the furnace especially.

I bunched my sweatshirt sleeves up to my elbows, and peered up at the ticking clock, hanging between two faded maps, one of Alaska and one of the United States. It was already a quarter to nine. Had Jimmy forgotten to tell me something? Was there a Monday morning roundup off-site? Had I read the painted numbers above the door outside incorrectly? Was this not the eleventh and twelfth grade classroom?

With a yawn, I leaned back in my chair. As much as I hated Jimmy’s lumpy couch, at this rate, I could’ve caught a few more z’s before schlepping down here, especially since the apartment had finally quieted down after Jimmy had left for work.

Yeah, Whitely was making it way too easy to skip school, and I was about to give up and find myself some breakfast, when I finally heard voices further down the hall.

Tapping my pencil on the chipped corner of the desk, I waited for my new classmates to come into view.

“—was great, Jeannie,” a woman said, and my heartbeat kicked up a pace. Students trickled in through the door. White skin, tan skin, brown and red hair. A couple of the students were tall but most of them were short. There were a handful of them, and their mutterings faded as they paused just inside the doorway.

“Oh—” The woman I assumed was the teacher put her hand on one student’s shoulder to steady herself as she practically careened into him. Then she smiled at me, her brown eyes crinkling. “You’re the new student, Alejandro.” Lifting her bag strap over her head, she walked over to her desk, her dirty-blonde ponytail swaying with each step.

“It’s Alex, actually.” I sat forward and continued tapping my pencil on the edge of the desk, studying the five new faces blinking at me. All of them but the teacher looked to be about my age, give or take a year or two.

The teacher set her bag on her desk chair. “Alex it is then,” she chirped, and pointed to her head. “Mentally noted.” She didn’t look like any teacher I’d ever had before, young and smiling—she was even kinda hot. Definitely nothing like the comic book-loving string bean I had at East Anchorage High, or the macho chick at Bartlett who looked like she could kick my ass. I’m pretty sure she would’ve too, if it hadn’t been considered child abuse. I was perpetually late to her class.

The carpet was old and bunched under the students’ feet as they weaved through the desks to their seats. The shock of seeing a new face had worn off, and they bickered and chatted like they’d known each other for years, only flicking cursory glances in my direction.

Remotely, I wondered why there were seats enough for fifteen students if there were only a handful of us. It was getting closer to Christmas, so they were probably all faraway somewhere, traveling or whatever happy families did during the holidays.

“So, am I early or something?” I watched as they all casually took their seats. There were no late bells and there was clearly zero urgency to sit down, though it was almost nine.

“Excuse me?” The teacher glanced up from her notebook.

I nodded to the clock above the door.

“Oh—no, not really. Things were a little chaotic this morning. I was gone last week due to a family illness out of town. So, Tyler and Jeannie were showing me how their science project was coming along in the greenhouse up on the top floor.”

A girl with freckles and red hair looked intriguingly over at me. Tyler, I assumed, nudged her with his elbow to get out of his way as he plopped into the desk beside her.

“At any rate, welcome to class.” The teacher gestured around the room. “Sorry we weren’t here to greet you properly.” She was what I would’ve expected an elementary school teacher to be like, animated and sweet. She didn’t look old enough to be a high school teacher, at least not with a name like Mrs. Gunner, or was it Mrs. Anderson? I’d imagined a salt and pepper haired older woman with glasses and a kind smile, for some reason.

“I’m Mrs. Gunderson, but everyone calls me Katie,” she said, pulling out a folder from her bag. I wasn’t sure I could handle all the strange in this place and also call my teacher by her first name, so I mentally opted to call her Mrs. Gunderson.

“The rules are fairly loose here, as long as your work gets done,” she continued, and flipped through the file in her hand. Her eyebrows pinched together within seconds, then she glanced at me again, her expression narrowing slightly.

It was a file about me, obviously.

“This is a much smaller school than you’re used to,” she said with a nervous laugh. “Isn’t it?” It wasn’t a real question, because that was evident. It was a smaller school than just about anyone outside of Whitely had ever been to. “We might be less structured than what you’re accustomed to, Alex, but we expect students to behave with respect and get their work done on time. There are consequences for misconduct, but hopefully we won’t have to get into any of that. Think of us more like a family—your family.” Her smile broadened again. “That being said, welcome to Whitely.”

She must’ve read the part about juvie and the bullshit assault and battery accusations from last year. They dropped the charges, but it was still a stain on my name, one of many, and I was glad they could be expunged on my eighteenth birthday, like they were never there at all.

“There’s a lot to get up to speed on, including choosing a science project that we’re well into already. We’ll figure something out though,” she said pleasantly. “Have you received a tour of the building yet? We aren’t always learning out of the classroom or working out in the gymnasium.”

I shook my head.

“We’ll see if Tyler or someone can show you around before school tomorrow. There’s a movie room on the twelfth floor, and city council meetings are on the thirteenth floor on the first Tuesday of every month, which I offer extra credit to attend.”

I shrugged. “I have free time. I can explore the building on my own.” It would take all of an hour, I thought wryly.

“Oh, great.” Mrs. Gunderson inhaled, and gripped the back of her swivel chair. The cushion indented as her fingers pressed into it more tightly, like she was steadying herself for whatever came next. “So, Alex, why don’t you tell us about yourself?” She gestured to the other students, all of them looking at me.

I wasn’t sure if it was the recycled air pumping through the building, or if all the gawking faces were getting to me, but heat swirled over my skin, and I pushed my long sleeves creeping down my arm back up to my elbows.

“Uh—I’m Alex,” I said. “I just moved here from Anchorage—”

The door creaked opened and a strawberry blonde peeked inside. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, her face flushed as she glanced at the teacher.

“Oh, good—Sophie, you came.”

Sophie took a seat two rows over, oblivious to me, unlike the rest of them. But she was harder to miss. Sophie was tall and slender, with long hair that brushed the middle of her back. She was pretty, in a preppy, ripped jeans, and off-the-shoulder sweater kinda way, with her fancy Ugg boots. Normally I would write her off as a rich girl—prom queen material for sure—only she was quiet and meek as she settled into her desk, unlike Jeannie who kept looking at me with hungry appreciation.

“I heard Jesse was home sick,” Mrs. Gunderson said. I wasn’t sure if Jesse was Sophie’s brother or sister, but Mrs. Gunderson’s expression turned sullen. “I’m glad you’re feeling okay. With all the commotion in the lower forty-eight, even the littlest flu is frightening.”

Sophie frowned. “I didn’t know—” She paused when her blue eyes met mine. She straightened in her seat, looked up at Mrs. Gunderson again, then continued. “I haven’t talked to him since Friday, so I didn’t know he was sick.”

“He better not come back if he’s sick,” Jeannie said, twirling a red strand of hair around her finger. “I can’t get sick.”

“Why not,” Tyler muttered, “because it’s bad for your complexion?” He laughed, but no one else did.

“Not in here, Tyler. You know the rules.” Mrs. Gunderson was capable of a somewhat commanding tone, which was surprising.

“That’s her brother,” the guy next to me whispered. “They fight all the time. She’s one year younger.”

I nodded as Jeannie looked at me for the third time. I’d seen the same look that was on her face a dozen times between four different schools—I was the new kid with a less than shining reputation, and girls were attracted to it like a leprechaun to a pot of gold. It was like my rap sheet was plastered to my forehead everywhere I went. Girls like Jeannie could sniff me out, latch on long enough to feel a sense of danger, then they’d get bored and move on when they realized I wasn’t as dangerous as they’d imagined. Not only was I uninterested in Jeannie, I was planning on staying miles away from her.

“Sophie,” Mrs. Gunderson continued, “this is Alex. He’s new to Whitely, obviously. He was just about to tell us a bit about himself. But for those of you who haven’t already heard, Alex is Jimmy’s nephew.”

“Jimmy Hart has a nephew?” Jeannie spat, blinking at me like she was beyond confused. “Isn’t Jimmy too young to have a nephew?”

“Ortiz, idiot. Not Hart.” Tyler scoffed. “Can’t you see the resemblance?”

My knuckles whitened as I gripped the edge of the desk. Although Tyler likely referred to my exotic bronze skin color and nothing more, Jimmy was the last person on the entire planet I ever wanted to be compared to. He was a deadbeat loser who was past his prime and plummeting quickly to a washed-up has-been. The entire building would have to be blind not to notice.

Mrs. Gunderson cleared her throat. “As I was saying, this is Alex Ortiz,” she emphasized as she outstretched her hand to me, like a portrait on display. I stole a quick glance at the small lotus tattoo on her wrist, surprisingly pleased Mrs. Gunderson had a bit of a wild side too, it seemed.

All the students stared at me expectantly, except for Sophie. She was preoccupied with her phone.

“Soph,” Mrs. Gunderson hedged.

Startled, Sophie pushed her phone to the corner of her desk, blinking at the teacher before she turned to look at me, or more like she was looking through me. Her blue eyes gleamed with sadness.

Mrs. Gunderson nodded. “Go ahead, Alex.”

I cleared my throat.

“Like I said, I’m Alex. I’m staying here until April.”

“Why?” Jeannie asked. “What happens in April?”

“On the tenth, I turn eighteen and I can leave,” I told her. I could taste the freedom merely thinking about it.

“Where were you before?” She blinked at me with sincere interest. “No one comes here because they want to,” she muttered the last part with a smile.

Even though I didn’t want to tell stories about my life, like we were sitting around the campfire in need of entertainment, I had to tell them something or they would keep staring. “I was living with a foster family in Anchorage. It didn’t work out,” I said plainly. “Now I’m here.”

I was grateful when Mrs. Gunderson cleared her throat. “Are you looking into any colleges, Alex? I’ve been helping Tyler, Jesse, and Sophie with their applications. Maybe I could help you with yours too.”

I glanced at Sophie, her foot bouncing as she bit her middle fingernail, staring at the blank screen of her phone. “Yeah, maybe,” I said so Mrs. Gunderson would move on, but the answer was no. I wouldn’t be in Whitely long enough to worry about school. I’d worry about my GED later, after I got out of here and could live my life for myself instead of for adults who cared more about a monthly check than anything having to do with me. It wasn’t like I could afford to go to college anyway.

“Well, we can circle back to that after class. We better get started.” Mrs. Gunderson clapped her hands together.

I heaved out an exhausted breath, glad my pointless introduction was over, and glanced over at Sophie still staring down at her phone.

“Jeannie, can you pass these out for me, please?” She handed a small stack of papers to Jeannie in the front row. “As I mentioned before I left,” Mrs. Gunderson continued, addressing everyone. “We’re talking about the Revolutionary War this week. And we may or may not have a pop quiz on who the key players were and how it ended.” She laughed at her none too subtle warning as she scribbled on the whiteboard.

“Here you go.” Jeannie appeared beside my desk. Her red hair was up in a half ponytail, her eyes thick with black makeup, and her clothes tight enough to appreciate her feminine curves. She grinned fully this time—not just a smirk, and a dimple formed in her cheek, which I wasn’t expecting.

“Thanks.” I smiled back, and took the handout. Leaning back in my chair, I admired the sway of her hips as she weaved her way through the rows, handing out two more papers before glancing back at me.

“Alex,” Mrs. Gunderson warned with a lifted eyebrow. I’d already been caught flirting, but in all fairness it was Jeannie, not me. Mrs. Gunderson grabbed a textbook off the shelf beneath the window and walked it over to me. “Page forty-seven. You’re getting a crash course in the Siege of Yorktown.”

I didn’t get further than writing my name at the top of the page, when my gaze traveled to Sophie again as she tapped her pen on the side of her book. Apparently I wasn’t the only anxious one today, and by the looks of it, I’d say she was on the brink of tears.

Sophie

December 7

The first couple hours of class felt more like eons. Class was the last place I wanted to be right now. That is, until the new guy came to sit beside me for our chapter review exercises.

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. As far as a summary partner went, he caught on more quickly than I’d expected. He remembered the answer to every question without writing them down. Meanwhile, I could barely focus on what we were supposed to be studying to begin with.

“I don’t know how, I just remember random shit sometimes,” he explained. Even though Alex was the new kid, somehow I was the one who felt out of place.

“All right,” Katie said from the front of the room. “Time to wrap it up for a bit. I can hear your stomachs growling from here.”

“Finally,” Alex grumbled and slammed his book shut. The rest of the classroom did the same and moved back to their seats, but I couldn’t help but watch Alex as he gathered a ratty notebook covered in Sharpie doodles. Then he picked up his broken pencil.

Intriguing, that was a word for him. “Thanks,” I said. “For the study help, I mean.”

He looked over his shoulder, then nodded, if a bit reluctantly. He was nice enough—and cute even, in a bad boy sort of way—but none of that mattered, not when my life was essentially over.

I wrapped my hands around my stomach and slouched back into my seat. It wasn’t hunger that had my tummy rumbling, but pure dread and fear. I hated fear—it made me feel weaker than I already was.

Letting my head fall back, I squeezed my eyes shut and took a calming, deep breath as Katie explained the essay prompt for after lunch.

A child is not the end of the world. I had to keep telling myself that or risk a breakdown in front of everyone. Women did it every day around the world and in worse circumstances than mine, and with worse partners, even if Jesse was the type of guy who would rather lie to avoid conflict than admit the condom broke the last time we had sex and own up to it.

“Enjoy your lunch break!” Katie called, as a patter of footsteps hurried out of the classroom. “Are you all right, Sophie?”

“What?” My eyes flew open, and Katie stood from her desk. Cheeks beet red, I smiled. “Yes. Sorry. I’m just worried about Jesse, that’s all.” I cleared my throat and tucked my hair behind my ear as I gathered my things. “I didn’t sleep well either, with all the talk about the outbreak on the East Coast—”

“Oh, that’s right. Bailey’s there, visiting her grandma.” Katie tilted her head with understanding. “I can see why you’d be so worried. I’m sure she’s fine. Her parents will keep her safe.”

I forced another smile as I clipped my bag closed. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re right.”

Katie smiled encouragingly and rubbed my shoulder. “Maybe you can give her a call during lunch and see how she’s doing. She could probably use a friend.” Katie headed back toward the front of the class.

I tried to steady a deep inhale as I praised myself on the quickest save ever. If Katie looked too closely, she’d know I was lying. That’s what happened when your teacher was your neighbor, your friends were your building mates, and everyone knew your parents.

My half-ass plan to buy a pregnancy test at lunch would not go unnoticed either. I scanned the hallway and first-floor layout in my memory, mapping out the building to estimate how long it would take me to get from the store to the restroom, then maybe to Jesse’s to tell him off, and back again—all before lunch break ended. Jesse might’ve been sick with a cold, but he wasn’t dying. He could at least text me back.

But who was I kidding? There was no way I could buy a test without anyone knowing, not unless I was going to steal it, and getting caught . . . That was an entirely new problem I hadn’t considered.

I combed my fingers through my hair. The tension in my shoulders was so tight, I was surprised I could move my neck. Pulling my bag over my shoulder, I glanced at Katie. “I’m going to grab lunch and call Bailey. I’ll be back in thirty or so.”

Katie waved me away, mid-gulp from her thermos, and I headed out the door without looking back. The clomp of my Ugg boots echoed in the hallway between school and the apartment complex.

The air in the hallway was suddenly too warm and thick as I walked toward the main floor. I fanned my face, praying it was a wave of anxiety and not a heat flash or some other unwanted symptom.

Or maybe the blaze of hell is inching closer to me with each step. That’s where my mom would condemn me, and not because she was religious, just really strict and severe when she wanted to be. I had to swallow down the impending wave of nausea that bubbled up with every step.

Would she make me get rid of the baby? The thought suddenly dawned on me. Did I want to get rid of it? I was in the exact situation my mom told me never to get myself into. It was one of two things she’d always lectured me about—my posture and pregnancy at the age of eighteen. This wasn’t something she could lecture away with a severely disappointed finger wag though. In fact, she would probably kill me when she found out, and she of all people could get away with it too. As the mayor, she knew the coroner and was close with the doctor. She had the police in her pocket, and she could bury my body out in the snow. No one would be any the wiser.

But hysterical thoughts aside, another scandal after my dad’s infidelity would ruin her, and it wasn’t her career I was concerned about. Mentally and emotionally, she would be wrecked.

Biting my lip, I followed the signs to the mercantile area, though I didn’t need them to know where I was going. I was going to have to buy a pregnancy test from the market, and I prayed for Carlyle or Henry to be behind the counter when I got there; they’d be so incredibly awkward they would pretend they didn’t see the pink and white box entirely—unlike Evelyn or Jonesy.

Murmurs met my ears as I came to the split in the hallway; straight ahead for the managerial offices, the market, and video store; left for the indoor pool with cracked tiling and the fitness room with dangerously old equipment.

I continued straight; toward Mr. Han, one of the yacht captains; my classmate Sarah Michaels, who I’d only just realized wasn’t in class today; her mom; and crap—Henry. I needed him to be working at the market, and there he was standing alongside the others—each of them with masks over their faces—outside Dr. Harwick’s clinic. It was a clinic large enough for only one hospital bed and an examination table, and given the number of residents in the building, a waiting area hadn’t really been necessary, until now, at least.

A shiver ran down my spine when I saw the red in Sarah’s eyes. Suddenly, I grew more worried about Bailey, and then for Jesse. The news covered the flu outbreak, and we knew it was really bad in some areas, but this was Alaska, there was nothing here. There were cities and towns, but they were few and far between, and hundreds—in some cases thousands—of miles of snow stretched out in between.

But I knew better than that. Viruses didn’t care about the cold. They thrived in live, warm bodies, and there were plenty of them coming in and out of Alaska every day.

“Are you okay, Sarah?” I asked, nearly breathless.

Sarah’s eyes met mine with a slow blink. “I—”

“She just needs the flu shot,” her mother said quickly. “She gets sick every year. This is nothing new.” Though Mrs. Michaels’ voice was flippant, I hadn’t seen Sarah sick before, at least not like this. She was in her wrinkled pajamas, and her skin was almost green. Her wavy brown hair was nappy around her face, and her eyes—I couldn’t stop staring at them.

“Carol,” Dr. Harwick called from inside the clinic, and Mrs. Michaels tugged on Sarah’s hand as she strode inside. I wasn’t sure if Jesse was that sick, but if he felt as bad as Sarah looked, I almost felt bad for being annoyed with him.

Then my stomach churned and I remembered the severity of the problem at hand. I could only pray I was sick at this point. But even though I felt like crap, it wasn’t like any flu I’d ever had before. I could feel something inside of me changing. Was that what a mother’s intuition felt like? Was pregnancy something I could feel in my bones—a warmth just beneath the surface of my skin, pushing the blood through my veins with more ferocity than anything I’d ever felt before, like it was preparing for something?

Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I decided to call Bailey and continued down the hallway toward the market. I passed the elevators and hurried by the managerial offices, specifically my mom’s door—grateful it was closed, then I dialed my best friend. I needed to make sure she was okay.

“Please pick up. Please pick up . . .” But I had no idea what time it was in Connecticut or if she was at the hospital with her grandma. When she didn’t answer, I whimpered and shoved my phone into the back pocket of my jeans.

Swallowing thickly, I stopped outside the market, just shy of the window. Since Henry was at the clinic, Carlyle was my only saving grace, and I willed him to be behind the checkout counter. But when I leaned forward, I was instantly more depressed.

Evelyn was working the counter, eyes wide and worried as she talked to my mom at the register. Sucking in a breath, I turned to run back down the hall before my mom could see me and collided with a warm, firm body that smelled shower-fresh.

“Shit,” I hissed, stumbling backward.

Alex reached out to grab my arm and steady me. “You okay?”

“Fine,” I spat, and tucked my hair behind my ears. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting lunch,” he said wryly. “What about you? Did you change your mind?”

I glowered at him. “What are you talking about?”

“You were about to go in.” He nodded to the store.

Crap. “Yes.” And my mom was still inside. I hurried down an offshoot of the hallway, toward the maintenance room and the public bathrooms.

“Hey—are you okay?” Alex’s footsteps were heavy and right behind me.

“Yes, just—leave me alone, okay?” I wasn’t sure exactly where my legs were taking me, just that it needed to be somewhere my mom couldn’t see the guilt on my face. I could never lie to her. She would know the moment I did, and I wasn’t ready to talk to her about it.

Alex followed me to the maintenance closet and stopped outside the open door.

“What are you doing?” I bit out, prepared to pull the door shut.

“What are you doing?” He stood in the doorway for everyone to see.

I glanced down the hall, worried my mom would see, and pulled him inside, closing the door behind him.

Turning around, I stumbled into a mop bucket, sending it clanging onto its side. The closet was small and the space between Alex and I was . . . tight, which I hadn’t thought through.

I flicked on the light.

Alex’s smile spread the width of his face, and I hated to admit I liked it—especially seeing he was clearly entertained by all of this. “Do you always hide in the broom closet?”

“Of course not.”

He took a deep breath, his dark features more like ebony in the sharp shadows cast by the swinging light.

“Why did you follow me? Now you’ve made it weird,” I told him, and turned to crack the door open.

“I’m making it weird? You just pulled me into a dark room and locked us inside.”

I didn’t justify his question with an answer as I peered down the hall, watching my mom cross the corridor. She had her cellphone to her ear and about a dozen water bottles in her arms, which I thought was strange, then she disappeared from view. I didn’t care what she was doing, as long as she was gone.

As my heart slid from my throat down into my chest, and settled back into a less frenzied pace, I stepped out into the hallway.

Alex walked out behind me.

I glanced at him, though he said nothing. He didn’t have to. I knew he was waiting for an explanation, but I hurried back down the hallway. I could feel his expectant stare boring into the back of my skull as his footsteps followed.

I whipped around. “What, Alex?”

His eyebrow rose, and he tilted his head with a shrug. “I’m going to the market,” he drawled. “To get food, for lunch . . .” He said it like he had to remind me, like I didn’t know the minutes were counting down. I needed to figure out what the hell I was going to do before I ran out of time. “Yeah, me too,” I said quickly.

With a huff, I turned on my heel, too distressed about my predicament to worry about him. But the instant I got to the market, I froze in the doorway. I still didn’t have a plan.

Alex stepped inside, the chime dinging, and Evelyn looked up from her crossword, eyeing him closely. She liked gossip, which meant she was more intrigued than most to see a new face.

I took a step backward out of Evelyn’s view. She was one of my mom’s close friends. There was no way I could do this with her here. I would wait; I had no other choice. I would make Jesse take me to the store when he was feeling better, or I would wait for Henry’s shift— whenever that was. I didn’t have to know at this very moment, it wouldn’t change anything.

My heartbeat thudded harder, my chest heaving up and down as I glanced from the doorway to the pregnancy tests I could see in the far aisle from where I stood. It was so close; I could walk in and take one and hope for the best, if I only had the courage to do it.

“Are you on meds or something?”

“What?” My eyes darted to Alex as he stepped out of the store; a paper bag and a Pepsi in his hand.

“Or do you need money?” He lifted an incredulous shoulder. “You know, to buy the lunch you said you were getting.” His eyes narrowed on me, like I was crazy—I was crazy, for today at least. “But you were lying about that, weren’t you,” he realized.

I swallowed. “Yes, I was lying. What’s it matter to you?”

Alex shrugged again and made a move to walk past me.

“Wait, Alex—” I licked my lips, unable to look him in the eye and feeling sicker by the minute. “Sorry. I’m having a really, really bad day. Now’s not exactly a good time to get to know each other.” I gripped my bag strap tighter.

“What do you mean, this isn’t the time?” he said, and when I looked at him, his mouth curved into a smile. “We just spent half of our lunch break in the broom closet together. I’d say we know each other well enough.” His eyebrows danced, and my chest rose with a quick laugh.

I couldn’t help but smile in return. I appreciated the joke, even if it was ridiculous.

Satisfied, Alex nodded and continued past me. He had an easy stride about him, which I found almost as fascinating as his smile. How was it he was so calm and confident? I envied him in that moment and my smile quickly faded.

My gaze landed on a stack of off-brand pregnancy tests directly beside a few boxes of Trojan condoms, at the end of the farthest of the store’s five aisles. Oh, the irony.

I did a double take as Alex stepped up beside me. His brow crinkled with concern. “Are you okay? Seriously.” He didn’t hedge and his voice didn’t waver. It was thick and low with concern.

I tried to smile for both of our sakes, but I couldn’t force it. My mom had brushed off my being sick like I was making the whole thing up, and while I might’ve stretched the truth a little, I was definitely not fine, and she didn’t even care. Yet Alex, a complete stranger a few hours ago, was looking at me like he actually, truly cared what my answer would be, and I nearly lost it.

“No,” I admitted. “Not really. I’m freaking out.” I inhaled a deep breath, trying to hold it together a little longer. Then I exhaled and cleared my throat. “But I’ll survive.” I glanced into the store a final time.

“Oh,” he said, staring in the same direction. “I see . . .”

A swirl of heat traveled through my chest and up my neck to my cheeks. I was somewhere between cherry and sunburn red; I could feel shame emanating through the skin on my face. “Yeah, like I said, you can’t help me.”

“You don’t want the cashier to know?”

“Ha. No. Evelyn is one of the chattiest old women in this place. I might as well put a scarlet P on my stomach now so that everyone knows.”

Alex handed me his Pepsi and the paper bag in his hand. “Take this.”

I did so automatically, then he turned for the store. “Wait—Alex—” I reached for his arm, but it was too late. He walked back into the market without hesitation, beelining for the pharmacy aisle.

Sophie

December 7

Frantic, I glanced around to make sure no one was watching and retreated a few more steps back into the corridor that led to the broom closet.

Evelyn hadn’t seen me. She won’t know it’s for me. There was no way she could.

I pulled out my phone to make it look as though I was waiting for someone without a care in the world. But inside, my heart was a battering ram, and I thought I might hyperventilate if Alex didn’t return soon.

I waited like that, scrolling through Facebook posts on my phone, not registering any of them as the minutes ticked by. My face grew hotter and my heart raced in my ears more loudly with every passing minute. It felt like an eternity before Alex finally appeared in the mouth of the hallway. He continued past me, toward the elevator, with another brown paper bag in his hand.

I glanced at the market to make sure no one was watching and walked as casually as I could behind him, peering down at the blank screen on my phone shaking in my hands. When we were both inside the elevator, just the two of us, he hit the button for the eighth floor. The instant the door closed, he handed me the bag and took his lunch and Pepsi back.

“I can’t believe you did that,” I hissed, adrenaline zipping through me. My heart had never raced so fast—never felt like it was going to pop out of my chest like aliens did in the movies.

“You’re welcome,” he grumbled, and took a long pull from his soda bottle. It was like it was whiskey to a drunk. He was nervous too—or maybe embarrassed.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” I said, still shocked that he had, and his unexpected kindness brought the threat of more tears to my eyes.

“I didn’t? You were hyperventilating in the hallway, so I think I did. Besides,” he said with a shrug, and I wondered if he wasn’t as calm as his exterior let on, “everyone already knows I’m a screwup, they probably think I already got a girl pregnant.”

I snorted. “You’ve barely been here a few days, that seems like a stretch.”

Alex shrugged. “Trust me, no one will be surprised if Mrs. Chatterbox decides to say something.”

“But,” I shook my head, “You don’t even know me.”

“Yeah, well, I did it anyway. Now you’re just making it weird,” he said, staring at the door. I eyed him in the metal reflection, while he watched the numbers on the screen ticking higher. His thoughtful silence was strangely unwanted.

“I’m not a slut,” I blurted, feeling the need to explain. “Jesse and I—he’s been my boyfriend for almost a year. I just—we screwed up.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he said holding up his palm.

But I felt like I did. “It’s just—”

“Seriously.” It was more of a plea than a courtesy. “I really don’t want to know.”

I nodded, dazed as I licked my lips, and turned to face my reflection in the elevator door again. I knew nothing about Alex other than he was taller than me, maybe even six-feet tall, with broad shoulders and a charismatic smile. More than anything, I knew that Alex was compassionate, even if he was a troublemaker or whatever he’d been labeled in his life before he came to Whitely. And I’d never appreciated a stranger more.

“I just hope he’s not a douchebag,” he said in a low voice. “For your sake.”

I blinked at him.

The doors dinged open as we arrived on the eighth floor, and Alex stepped out without another word or look in my direction.

“Where are you going?” I asked. I glanced down the hall toward Jesse’s apartment.

He held up his lunch bag. “I’ve gotta heat my burrito up somehow.”

I’d forgotten all about Jimmy and that he lived on the same floor.

Without thought, I stepped out of the elevator and reached for Alex’s arm as he turned to leave. My grip was more desperate than I’d meant, and the moment he turned around, staring at my hand on his bicep, I took a spacious step back, though I could still see the luminescent golden honey in Alex’s eyes from the overhead lights.

He tilted his head, waiting for me to get on with it.

“Thank you,” I told him. The paper bag crackled in my tightening grip. I searched for something else to say that wasn’t so dumb, but the same words rolled off my tongue. “Just—thank you.”

Alex glanced from my stomach to my face, making me blush. He wasn’t checking me out, I reminded myself. He was taking my craziness in, or perhaps my sincerity. He was reminding himself that I was likely pregnant, and a complete and utter mess.

“You’re welcome.” His voice was softer than I expected, and in that moment, Alex was calm water in a dark storm, and his kindness sent a tear over the brim of my lashes. “I owe you one,” I whispered, offering him a small smile.

He didn’t nod or shake his head. Instead, he continued down the hall to his uncle’s apartment. “Good luck, Sophie,” he muttered.

“Thank you,” I whispered again, though I didn’t think he could hear me. His broad shoulders seemed to slump the closer he drew to the apartment, his stride less confident. With a deep breath, he opened the front door and disappeared inside, the door latching behind him.

Alex

December 7

Before the door even closed, Jimmy was glaring at me. Amidst the scent of stale beer wafting from the empty beer cans in the kitchen and on the side table in the living room, there was a hint of freshness in the apartment, like Jimmy had just gotten out of the shower, again. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

Jimmy had been sober when I’d first arrived, and as the days went on and he drank more and more, his mismatched but tidy apartment turned into a garbage pit. I couldn’t help but wonder if he thought showering hid his drunkenness.

I lifted my burrito. “Lunch break.” I walked around his recliner and couch, and into the galley kitchen. Judge Judy blared from the TV on the entertainment stand. It was janky, both the TV and the stand, but I didn’t expect much from Jimmy. Everything he had looked like it had been salvaged from the community dumpster.

“You didn’t bring me a burrito?”

I rolled my eyes. “I figured you’d still be at work.”

Jimmy groused from his recliner and lay further back, making the springs squeak. “I decided to work a half day.”

“I didn’t realize you could choose your own hours.”

He shrugged. “There’s been an issue with the stupid heater for months. Can you believe they had some guys I’ve never even seen down there working on it over the weekend, like I can’t do my job or something?”

I couldn’t help it, my eyebrows lifted of their own accord. I feared he was asking me the question seriously, and I had to refrain from answering it.

“If they keep getting me the wrong parts, then of course it ain’t gonna get fixed—simple as that. I swear someone tampered with the gas manifold. It’s like they’re trying to get me fired.” Jimmy tossed the rest of his beer back and sighed. “Now they’re gonna undermine me and bring in some fancy engineers from the city? I’ll show them,” he muttered.

Why did the Ortiz family seem to think anyone from the city was considered fancy? I’d lived in a lot of city neighborhoods, and none of them were fancy. My mother’s words to me the day I’d told her I wanted to go to college had stuck with me since she said them.

“You think you’re better than this life—that some fancy college will take you? Who’s going to pay for that, your abuela? That woman turned her back on me when I needed her, she’ll do the same thing to you.”

Jimmy came from the same gene pool as my mother, so I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, though the memory of both her and my grandma sat too close to the surface for comfort. I’d gotten used to pushing away the darker memories, but being around Jimmy made it more difficult. His eyes were like my mother’s, dark and deadened in a way that had been seared in my mind since the day she died. While she might’ve been a meth-head, he was clearly a drunk. I knew there was a difference, but it was hard to see past that when Jimmy’s first question to me after Digs had left me in Jimmy’s care was when he could expect his first check.

“I need a nap,” he said with a stretch.

“Must be nice,” I muttered, unwrapping my burrito.

“What was that?” he growled.

Cereal bowls were crusted with old milk and dried flakes. Beer cans were overflowing from the garbage bin. Of course none of that had been there when Digs dropped me off Friday to see my temporary home.

“Nothing,” I muttered.

“Give me half of that,” he said, his eyes glued to the TV.

“Dude, this is my lunch. I’m hungry. Have another bowl of cereal or something.”

Jimmy sneered. “Digs told me you were ungrateful.”

“No, I’m broke, there’s a difference.”

“Not too broke to buy a Pepsi with it,” he countered.

“If you had more food in the house, I wouldn’t have to spend my last five dollars on said burrito and Pepsi.” I might’ve had a few more bucks than that, but Jimmy didn’t need to know.

“Oh, so you’re a smartass,” he grumbled. “Fantastic.”

I wanted to growl back at him, but I let it go. What the hell was I going to say? Yeah, and you’re a douche, so we’re even. The least he could do was make sure there was food. I had exactly twenty-eight dollars left to my name after buying that pregnancy test, which I hadn’t expected to do, or for it to be so expensive. But then, I’d never bought a pregnancy test before.

I pulled my burrito out of the microwave and sat at the counter, wondering if Sophie was at her place, taking the test right now.

While I didn’t think I should care if she was pregnant or not, I still couldn’t help but wonder. She was a stranger, for the most part, but I saw the horror in her eyes, the fear. Even if I’d never had to worry about being pregnant before, I’d had plenty of other scares in my life—fights that could’ve ended much worse than they had, near misses and arrests, a broken heart when I was sixteen, or so I thought at the time—and I knew better than anyone that it wasn’t easy steering clear from bad decisions all the time, and hindsight was a complete bitch.

Plus, my grandma would roll over in her grave if I hadn’t helped Sophie.

I took a warm bite of beans, cheese, and flour tortilla as Jimmy’s cell phone rang.

“This is Jimmy,” he said with a yawn. “You mean those yahoos from Anchorage didn’t fix the furnace over the weekend? What do you mean?” He paused to listen, and I continued to inhale my lunch. I only had ten minutes until I needed to be back in class.

“I’m talking about the guys I saw in there yesterday.” Jimmy threw his arm up. “I’m not lying, Mayor,” he ground out. “Fine, but I can’t look at it until tomorrow. I’ve got too many house calls today. Threaten me all you want, Tessa, but I’m all you got. Tomorrow. Yeah, fine.”

Jimmy dropped his cell into his lap and sighed as he lay further back in his chair. “Grab me a beer, would you?” he said over his shoulder.

I glared at his lazy ass in the recliner, wondering how a guy who showered twice a day could still be so gross. His hair was greased back, his clothes too big. People had to know he was a lazy piece of shit, right? Clearly he had this job because the building manager—and even the mayor—had no other option. Even I could do a better job than him, and I knew nothing about HVAC and boiler rooms.

I stared at the balled up paper bag on the counter and took another bite of burrito. I needed a job while I was here. Something to get me out of the house and put some money in my pocket, because clearly I was going to need it. And while Whitely didn’t seem like the sort of place with a list of employment opportunities for teenagers, Sophie might know where I could find work. She did say she owed me a favor.

Jimmy’s recliner creaked. “That beer?” he prompted, nodding to the fridge. “Grab one, would ya?”

With a swallow, I stood up and grabbed Jimmy a can from the fridge. I refrained from tossing it at him and walked it over. He didn’t bother looking up from Judge Judy. “Stupid fuck,” he grumbled at the plaintiff, then he laughed.

Yeah, stupid fuck indeed.

Sophie

December 7

Negative.

I sat on the vanity countertop in the bathroom, staring at the second pregnancy test. Fear. Cowardice. Whichever it was, I couldn’t bring myself to take the test during lunch, knowing I’d have to go back to class and likely have to pretend everything was okay, when it was far from it. So I waited until I got home from school, and for what? Had all the fear and hesitation really been for nothing?

Dark had long since crept in through the bathroom window, and I flicked the main light on to be certain the shadows weren’t playing tricks on me. The second test read the same as the first one, and I hesitated to breathe. Was it fortuitous that Alex had gotten a two-pack of tests, or had he done that on purpose? More importantly, had I done something wrong, twice? The directions seemed simple enough. Yet, as the single blue line brightened on the indicator, I nearly cried with relief. False alarm.

I was not pregnant.

My life was not over—my mom would never have to know.

I waited for all of the coiled tension in my neck and shoulders to ease, for the churning contents of my stomach to settle, but aside from the prick of happy, grateful tears in my eyes, there was no physical relief. In fact, my stomach lurched, and I slid off the vanity and onto the bathroom floor, heaving up the crackers I’d forced myself to eat when I’d returned home.

My stomach twisted and I heaved again. After what remained of the crackers was out and my mouth was watering with nothing else to give, the wave of nausea passed. It would take time, I realized, for the anxiety to go away.

Climbing to my feet, I turned on the sink and slurped water from my hand, rinsing the bile from my mouth. I put toothpaste on my toothbrush and brushed my teeth, thoughts consumed momentarily by Alex. Part of me felt guilty for not thinking about Jesse instead, but I couldn’t help it.

Alex had surprised me. He’d said himself that helping me would add to whatever rap sheet he already had, and he’d done it anyway. And for who, a girl he probably looked at as the mayor’s spoiled daughter? I hoped that wasn’t what he thought. Especially since I’d already acted crazy, and he definitely thought I was rude. After everything he’d done, I hadn’t even offered to pay him back—something I hadn’t realized until I got back to school to find out Katie cancelled class due to her kids getting sick. Alex had bolted before I could even pull out my wallet.

Tomorrow. I would pay him back tomorrow.

I hoped my mom would be on her Skype call with my dad, so that I could disappear into my bedroom for the night without rehashing my attitude from this morning. She’d already sent me on errands all afternoon, calling me with a list of things she needed me to get ready for an impromptu city council meeting. “Consider it your apology.”

I stared at my reflection, comparing myself to Jeannie. Alex had been staring at her a lot. She’d made it easy for him with her dark fanning eyelashes and full-lip grin.

I rolled my eyes. It’s not like it mattered. I needed to think about Jesse. He still hadn’t returned my calls or texts. I was beginning to worry about him. I considered heading down to the eighth floor to see him and get rid of the pregnancy tests on my way down in the process.

I took the roll of toilet paper off the holder and grabbed the first test from the garbage. I wrapped it in paper until it was completely covered and looked like a fluffy white ball. I did the same with the other test. I wasn’t going to walk around the apartment with them, so I stashed them in an empty Q-tips box discarded in the trash, along with a toilet paper roll and some balled up tissue, and shoved the box in the trash for safe keeping.

As the nausea settled a bit more, and I could breathe without a writhing, clawing feeling inside my chest, I flicked the light switch off before I stepped out into the hallway.

The living room was quiet and lit only by the soft glow of the Christmas lights around the bay window and the overhead light above the stove, which hadn’t been cooked on in days. If it weren’t for my room, you’d never know people actually lived here.

The sapphire-colored throw pillows were perfectly fluffed and staggered across the tan, suede couch, positioned in the middle of the room. The TV remote was nowhere to be seen, which meant it was in its assigned drawer, and besides the honeysuckle candle placed perfectly in the center, there were no other signs of life or disarray on the coffee table. Earthenware coasters weren’t strewn around with dusty water glasses, like they would have been in my room, but stacked beneath my mom’s favorite Tiffany Falling Leaves lamp on the side table. Everything was always as it should be, my mom made certain of it.

Her desk, centered against the wall behind the couch, however, grabbed my attention. My dad’s mail stack was becoming more of a tower, and I wondered how much longer he’d be gone for work. Another three weeks? More? For my mom’s sake, I hoped it was less.

Everything was quiet and still. Until I heard a somewhat strangled, ragged breath.

Staring at her closed bedroom door, I stepped further into the living room and strained to listen to the muffled gasps on the other side. My mom took a breath, loud enough for me to hear and I took a few steps closer.

I hesitated to reach for the doorknob. My mom and I were both the suffer-in-silence type. It was a trait I’d learned from her when I was young, but you had to be dumb as a rock to not know why she was so upset, and shouldn’t be alone. We’d both had a rough day, and if I was honest, we could probably both use some company.

Turning her bedroom doorknob, I peeked my head inside. My mom was tough, a hard-ass like no one I’d ever met. She pushed me when I was weak, which felt like all of the time, and she was a voice when the small, inconsequential town of Whitely didn’t have one. Yet, when she forgot to be that pillar of strength everyone else needed, she could be soft and kind, even if I rarely saw it. And curled into a trembling heap on her bed, she looked just . . . miserable.

It wasn’t me this time, weak and broken, the way it had been on so many other occasions. “Mom,” I whispered.

She sat up on her elbow and peered over her shoulder at me. Her eyes were red and her long hair fell in a dark, tangled cascade down her back. “Sophie . . .” She cleared her throat. “You should be in your room doing your homework.” She blew into the tissue clutched in her hand and tucked her hair behind her ear. Even now, in front of me, she was trying to make herself presentable.

Instead of explaining, I crawled onto her bed beside her, into the spot where my dad rarely slept anymore and looked at her. She smelled of orange blossoms and vanilla, and even the smeared makeup beneath her lashes didn’t dull her beauty. My mom was a lot of things, but she was smart and strong and beautiful, and my dad was an idiot. He’d pushed our Skype call back a couple hours and I’d only just realized the time. “Dad didn’t call, did he?”

With a sigh, she blew her nose. “He’s probably bombarded with custom party menus and last-minute requests.”

She and I both knew that wasn’t why he blew her off. The truth was we didn’t even know if my dad really worked as much as he said he did. Sure, the money kept coming in, but that meant nothing. The whole reason we’d moved from Florida was so they could work on their marriage in a place with less temptation. So he would stay away from Clarice, the chef who taught him everything he knew . . . and more. Not that they’d told me that. The information I’d collected about my broken family had been from their late-night arguments behind closed doors and underhanded comments to one another at the dinner table, which they thought I was too naive to understand.

“Maybe,” I said instead, but when her eyes met mine, her brow furrowed and she tilted her head. She knew I wasn’t stupid, and for the first time, it was like she realized I wasn’t just a kid anymore, and her eyes filled with tears again.

“It’s okay, Mom,” I breathed, and wrapped my arms around her shoulders as we lay back down on her bed, just as she’d done for me so many times. Like when I’d come home from school crying because the other kids were calling me Club Foot, or when I was so frustrated that I couldn’t be just like everyone else—that I couldn’t play like the other kids because of my leg braces.

She was hard on me, and overbearing most of the time, but whatever my mom’s faults, I realized it was because of her that I hadn’t felt shrunken and weak around others for a very long time. She pushed me to be stronger, and as irritating as it was, I knew a small part of me was.

For her sake, I wished my father cared half as much about appearances as she did.

“Your father’s a jerk,” she muttered, tempering her tone, though she didn’t need to.

“He’s an asshole, Mom—you can say it. A topnotch one at that.”

She huffed a laugh, and I tightened my hold around her. I might’ve had a gut-wrenching day or two, but my mom had been going through much worse for years.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut as I breathed her in. After the past twenty-four hours, I could understand the fear she had for me—and not just teen pregnancy. It was everything that might come after it. And I knew in that moment that had I been pregnant, she wouldn’t have disowned me. She wouldn’t have done to me what her mother did to her. My mom was harsh, but she wasn’t heartless. She would’ve done everything she could so that I wouldn’t have to marry a man out of obligation, only to have him betray me over and over, like my dad had done to her.

She patted my arm and kissed my hand. “I’m sorry too.”

December 8

Alex

December 8

I stared at my math homework sprawled out on the counter, knowing I wasn’t going to get very far with the screaming headache settling into the base of my skull. It’d only gotten worse since I’d woken up, so it should’ve been a relief that class was cancelled again due to Mrs. Gunderson’s kids being sick, but for the first time in my life, I was disappointed to have a day off school; being cooped up in the apartment with Jimmy was much worse.

Leaning my elbows on the table, I glanced at the math book sitting next to me and thought about Sophie. I hadn’t really stopped thinking about her, actually. When she’d tried to explain why she needed the pregnancy test, I didn’t care to listen, but the more I thought about the guy who should’ve been standing there with her instead of me, the more it pissed me off that he wasn’t.

I wouldn’t want my own kid sister to have to go through that alone, even if I feared she likely would. The truth was, I didn’t know anything about her anymore, and I wanted her to know how incredibly sorry I was for that, and for what I’d done. Even if we were only related by marriage, she was my sister, and I was supposed to protect her, and whatever she might’ve thought about me, I hadn’t forgotten about her. I’d even asked my grandma to help me find her, but she got too sick before she could. I would tell Kayla on my own though, when I was eighteen, after I found her myself.

I scrubbed my hands over my short hair and straightened on the rickety stool. Why was I worried about Sophie when I should’ve been worrying about the virus? It was starting to freak me out, and now that I felt half dead, I decided on taking the news warnings a bit more seriously.

At first, the outbreak coverage just added salacious bits in the news reports, something other than downed power lines and illegal poaching in the backcountry. Now that more and more people in this tiny town were getting sick, it actually felt real—like I was trapped in a damn fish bowl—and sleeping on a shitty couch didn’t help the ache in my bones and neck.

At least the growing panic got Jimmy out of the house to take care of a quick job for the mayor, which he couldn’t put off any longer. It was probably the only way I’d get to squeeze in some more sleep on the couch before he came back and took over the living room again.

Closing my math book, I rose to my feet. I was thirsty, but too tired to clean a dirty glass. Even if the worn leather couch had cushions so deflated I could feel the frame beneath me, it practically beckoned me to curl up for a quick nap.

Jimmy would be pissed I hadn’t cleaned the apartment by the time he returned, but his wrath was nothing compared to the monster headache I needed to sleep away.

The leather creaked as I sat down with a satisfied groan, and I yanked my folded sleeping bag off the back of the couch and pulled it over me, hoping it would stave off the chill in the air.

When the McDonald’s commercial ended and the news came back on, I unmuted the TV. “—spreading panic, the CDC seems to be more quiet than expected,” the woman anchor said. “There’s been a lot of vague talk, but hopefully we’ll know more after their official statement tomorrow in Atlanta. Meanwhile, the number of patients reported in Wales yesterday was staggeringly high as well, though the CDC isn’t sure it’s the same disease.”

As much as I felt the need to listen to what they had to report, warmth seeped in around me, and as I let out a deep breath, the tension in my body began to ease. The exhaustion was suddenly overwhelming and sleep was so close, my thoughts became inconsequential as my mind began to blur.

I was on the cusp of blissful sleep when the door crashed open.

“Sleeping?” Jimmy growled, more ferocious than usual. He slammed the door behind him. “You’re fucking sleeping? This place is a dump.” He hit my feet off the couch, and I sat up with a lurch.

“Hey—it’s not even my mess!” I shouted back, wishing he would crawl back into whatever hole he was born in and leave me the hell alone.

“I give you a place to sleep, and you help out around here. That was the damn deal.” He dropped his tool bag onto the ground with a thud. His scowl was deeper than I’d seen before, and the shadows around his eyes were dark, like he hadn’t slept in days, even if I knew that wasn’t true.

“You said I could have a room,” I reminded him. “I get a shitty old couch that smells like Cheetos—”

Jimmy growled, picked up a half-empty beer can, and sent it sailing across the room, hitting the far wall. It was a warning shot, I imagined. He was clearly pissed, even if he had no right to be. I wasn’t his maid, and I cleaned up after myself all the time. He was the barbarian, not me. Sweat glistened on his forehead and beaded on his temples, and the veins in his eyes were so red I thought they might pop. “Seriously, man. You look like hell. Are you—”

“You ungrateful piece of shit.” Jimmy hurled one of his discarded boots at me, and it hit me in the face like a ten-pound brick.

I jumped to my feet. “What the fuck, man?” My surprise turned to fury, and then pain. It all sped through my veins as I brought my fingers to my bloody lips. Jimmy was a mean-looking guy with a semi-permanent snarl carved on his face, and he was definitely a bully and a dick, but this was the first time he’d been violent.

I balled my hands into fists. “Never do that again,” I warned. My voice was so low, I wasn’t sure I’d even said it. My chest heaved with a vehemence like nothing I’d ever felt before, and my head pounded with an overpowering exhaustion I couldn’t shake.

“This building is infested with sickness,” Jimmy spat. “For all I know, you’re sick and you’ve been touching everything.” He stomped to the fridge to grab a beer. “Dirty, mangy kid—you’re the reason my sister’s dead! You’re lucky I let you stay here at all.” His words hurt a thousand times more than the shoe, and my vision began to blur. I clenched my teeth so tight, a pain shot through my jaw.

“I want this place cleaned up before I get out of the shower. You fucking hear me, you little shit?” He pointed a crooked index finger at me.

I needed to get out of the apartment before things got out of my control.

“Ungrateful prick,” he muttered again, and he disappeared into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Fuck you,” I uttered, and grabbed my jacket off the back of the chair, then my beanie from the coffee table, and strode to the door. “It’s your shit. You clean it up,” I grumbled. I would not be his punching bag, especially not when it felt like I’d already been hit by a steamroller.

I slammed the front door shut behind me and stepped out into the hallway. Screw this guy and this place. I didn’t need to deal with Jimmy. He could get his check, and I would sleep in the damn gym for four months if I had to. Anything was better than dealing with him.

Pulling my beanie over my head, I headed for the elevator and stopped short.

Sophie stood just outside the doors as they slid closed, long hair piled on top of her head. Her blue eyes were wide and fixed on me. “Is everything okay?” she asked, shoving her cell phone back into her pocket. “You look . . . angry.”

“I’m fine.” I walked past her to press the down button. I didn’t want to be rude, but I wasn’t in the mood to chitchat either. The doors dinged back open, and I stepped inside.

“Hey, wait—” Sophie stepped into the elevator beside me, and I pressed the button for the lobby. “You’re bleeding,” she whispered, reaching for me. Her fingers brushed my cheek as she angled my face toward the halogen light above.

“I’m fine,” I repeated, and my eyes shifted to hers, but I didn’t pull away. Her fingers were warm and soft, and the scent of sunshine and clean linen wafted off her, which was strangely comforting.

“What happened?” She eyed my busted lip.

“I fell. Don’t worry about it.” I was not going to tell her Jimmy threw a shoe at me. There was enough pity in her eyes already. A shoe, of all things, was almost humiliating.

Sophie’s hand dropped to her side. “I am worried about it,” she said, more adamant than I’d expected.

“Trust me, it could’ve been worse.” But that statement didn’t help matters any. The creases in her brow intensified, and she looked almost angry.

“Hey,” I said more softly as the elevator shook, descending to the lobby. The last thing I needed was to see a girl’s face crumple because she was worried about me. “It’s fine—I’m fine. It was a stupid thing.”

Sophie’s gaze shifted over my face, and I could tell she was anxious for me. Through the exhaustion and frustration, her concern resonated in a way that made my chest ache a little. No one had ever looked at me like that, and oddly, unlike when strangers regarded me with pitying and judgmental stares after they learned anything remotely true about me, I liked that Sophie cared, even if I knew I wasn’t worth a second thought. I liked her being so close I could smell the scent of her clean clothes and feel the heat coursing off her, warming the air around me.

I stared into the blue and yellow flecks of her eyes, and at the freckles dotting the bridge of her nose and dappling her cheeks. She was more than pretty. I felt a pull to her I’d never experienced with someone before. It was like there was a physical tether between us, shortening by the second.

I averted my gaze, and Sophie cleared her throat and took a step back. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I just need some sleep. That couch is shit.”

“You can sleep on my couch,” she offered. “My mom won’t mind if you need a place—”

“No,” I told her. I was not a charity case. “Thanks though.” Sophie had no idea who I was, neither did her mom. And if Sophie knew half of the shit I’d done, she wouldn’t be offering or looking at me with so much concern.

“Seriously, Alex, I owe you—Oh! Here’s the money for the tests—”

I brushed her proffered hand away, the pity in her eyes and in the strain of her voice making me feel even sicker. “Don’t worry about it.”

The door opened on the lower level, and my feet wouldn’t move fast enough as I stepped into the lobby. I didn’t want Sophie seeing me with a busted up lip anyway, and I needed space—I needed air. Besides, I was pond scum compared to her—the preppy, mayor’s daughter who lived in the closest thing this town had to an ivory tower.

“Fine,” she said softly. The hurt in Sophie’s voice was unmissable though, and I remembered the fear I’d seen in her eyes only yesterday. Despite my irritation and exhaustion, I knew she wasn’t a pretty pink princess like I wanted to believe, and she didn’t deserve the cold shoulder.

Feeling like an ass, I turned around, about to ask her about the pregnancy test, when the elevator door closed again and she was gone.

“Damn.” I closed my eyes and inhaled in a deep, calming breath. I’d worry about Sophie’s feelings after I found a dark corner in class to pass out in. For now, my face was throbbing, though the taste of blood was less noticeable. I just needed some real, uninterrupted sleep and I would be fine.

I rubbed the back of my neck and wished I could telepathically transport myself down the hall. Somehow that tiny wink of sleep had pulled me in so much I couldn’t shake it, like with just the promise of it, my body required more.

As I headed down the hall toward the connection tunnel, the door to the clinic flew open and I stumbled back. A police officer stepped out. “You can’t be down here,” he said, knocking past me.

I bit back the acerbic words on my tongue as the officer hurried through the mayor’s door, two offices down. The door to the clinic squeaked shut, but not all the way, and I could see crimson spattering the floor. I leaned forward in alarm, unable to resist, and another officer covered up a pair of sock-covered feet hanging over an exam table.

Blood. And vomit. A lot of it. All over the floor. I didn’t do blood or vomit. The sneaking memories of my past billowed to mind, and I swallowed thickly, trying to keep the cereal I ate for breakfast down as I took an unsteady step backward. What the hell had happened? Was it the virus?

The other police officer stepped out next, his eyebrows drawn together and his lips pursed. “You can’t be here, son—”

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled and turned to leave. “I’m going.” Shoving my hands in my pockets, I headed for the lobby, uncertain where the hell I was going if I couldn’t go to the school.

As I walked in front of the entry door, it swung open and a woman shoved into me, nearly knocking me on my ass. “What’s with everyone?” I shouted. “Don’t you see I’m walking here?” I bit back a few other superlatives, even if the woman was barely fazed.

She glanced at me, her green eyes wild with alarm, but I didn’t think it was because of me. Her long, brunette hair was disheveled and hanging in her face, and she looked pale, but then so did a lot of people in Alaska. It’s why people like me stood out so much. Was she sick or just rude and oblivious?

“Excuse you—”

“They were here yesterday,” she spat into the phone, then switched it to the right side, and I noticed a crown tattooed behind her left ear. “I had them do what you told me to—just like you’d said—now something’s not right,” she said, frantic. “I’m not right. Why is this happening—what’s wrong with me?”

I registered the blood around her nose as she looked at me again, not really even seeing me, before she continued toward the elevator.

Another woman with burgundy hair hurried past me with a walkie-talkie gripped in her hand. The high pitch of radio static pierced the empty lobby, before the speaker clicked on. “It’s coming into port now,” a male voice said. “They don’t care if we have the provisions or not.”

“God damn it,” she whispered, bringing the receiver to her mouth. She was about to speak when she noticed me watching her, dumb and a little fuzzy.

“You shouldn’t be down here,” she told me, and the scent of clean linen and oranges wafted off of her. I saw Sophie’s slope nose in her features and the blue-and-yellow flecked eyes, and immediately knew she was Sophie’s mom, the mayor. “There’s about to be a horde of people in here. Go home—now.”

“Fine,” I said, throwing my hands up. I shoved the door open. I wasn’t going home and apparently I wasn’t staying in the lobby either. “Freeze to death it is,” I barked out, and I nearly stumbled down the steps into the biting cold air of the afternoon. It felt like shards of ice pierced my flesh, but it was better than the worsening pain in the back of my head, the incessant throbbing, and the heat that flourished behind my ears and down into my throat.

The mountains surrounding Whitely were covered in white and were menacingly jagged against the gray afternoon sky. I wasn’t sure where my feet were taking me, just that I had to keep moving and find somewhere to sleep before I passed out in the snow where I stood.

Blowing heat into my cupped hands, I eyed a boat graveyard and shrugged. I’d slept in worse. I forced my eyes to stay open and followed the road past the kayak center, but the longer I walked the fuzzier my mind became and the heavier my limbs felt against the cold wind.

As I shut my eyes against an abrasive gust, I almost forgot to open them again, and it was all I could do to keep upright and let my feet carry me wherever they would take me.

Sophie

December 8

As the elevator opened on the eighth floor again, I breathed a little easier knowing the pregnancy test had been taken out with the trash, but I wondered if Alex would be okay. I didn’t know Jimmy very well, just that he always smelled like stale beer and aftershave and he wasn’t very good at his job—or so my mom always said. It was hard enough to think of him as an adult, let alone a parental figure, but I hoped he wasn’t violent. I had a feeling Alex didn’t just fall; he didn’t strike me as a clumsy guy.

I eyed Jimmy’s apartment door as I walked past, expecting to hear the snarl of a rabid dog inside—but I heard a crash instead, then another one, like he was upturning furniture—and I hurried more quickly down the hall. At least I knew Alex wasn’t inside.

Forcing myself to focus, I blew out a fortifying breath and made my way toward Jesse’s apartment three doors down. Sweat beaded my brow the entire way. I wasn’t sure why I was so apprehensive to see Jesse, so much so that I’d lingered on the fourth floor, staring longingly at Bailey’s place for nearly an hour, like magically she’d walk out and say hello. I still hadn’t heard back from her either.

When I arrived at apartment 808, I stood in front of the door for a few heartbeats, wondering how sick Jesse actually was. He still hadn’t texted me back, but his mom had answered when I’d called their main line this morning. While Mrs. Phillips didn’t seem particularly happy I was bothering her, at least I knew Jesse was alive—sick and in bed, but alive. Even if I couldn’t see him, at least he’d know I came by.

I knocked on the door and listened for footsteps on the other side. I could hear the low chatter of what sounded like the television, but there were no rustling sounds or creaking floors inside. I was about to knock again when I heard a cough. A spring squeaked, and finally, the door cracked open. Air wafted through the opening, so acerbic I swallowed involuntarily. Then Mrs. Phillips’s bloodshot eyes and green-tinted skin came into view.

She opened the door further, and I took a step back. Her blonde and gray-streaked hair was oily and matted to her round cheeks, and her blue eyes looked almost like they were fogged over—fogged over and narrowed on me, holding no kindness.

“What is it, Sophie?” Her voice rattled with phlegm like it was suspended in her throat.

I swallowed thickly, unable to resist, and forced myself to breathe. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Phillips. I thought I would see if Jesse—”

“I told you, Jesse is sick.”

“But—I mean, can I bring you guys anything?”

“Go away, Sophie.” She slammed the door in my face, and with it came a wave of blood-burning fear. She looked near death, smelled like it too, and if she was as bad as that, Jesse probably was too. Maybe he was even worse. And I’d written him off.

Guilt sank heavy and deep in my gut, and I shuffled back down the hall toward the elevator, gripping my churning stomach the whole way. The scent of Mrs. Phillips was nauseating and seared the inside of my nose.

If school was cancelled because Katie’s kids were sick, and if Jesse and his mom were sick—as well as Henry and Sarah and the others visiting the clinic yesterday, it was hard to refute that the virus was here. A different sort of flu seemed like wishful thinking.

I nearly broke into a run. Was I next or did I already have it?

I shook my head as I pushed the elevator open. I already knew the answer, didn’t I? I’d felt sick for a couple days, and even if I didn’t feel as sick as Mrs. Phillips looked, it was the only logical explanation. Or had it really been the stress of my first, and definitely last, pregnancy scare? Part of me wanted to go down to the first floor and find my mom, but I knew she had her own shit to deal with. She’d called the divorce lawyer this morning and started her morning off with fresh tears. And if I was wrong and I wasn’t sick, she didn’t need to worry about me on top of everything else. She already did that enough as it was. I would wait until she got home tonight and tell her if I wasn’t feeling better.

I stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the tenth floor, hoping the fear and nausea that lingered from smelling Mrs. Phillips would pass or at least hold out until I got home, so I could puke in my toilet. I’d feel better after that.

And if I didn’t? I would call my mom.

The two floors up felt like nine, and I nearly wept with relief when the double doors finally popped opened, and I shot out into the hallway.

“Hold the door!” a woman shouted.

I stumbled back inside to hold the button, and glanced down the hallway to find a woman I didn’t recognize—I assumed a medic—wheeling a stretcher out from the apartment next to mine, at the end of the hall. Briefly, I questioned where the hell she’d come from and why I didn’t recognize her, but I didn’t have much time to wonder because, for the second time in mere minutes, I swallowed the bile rising in my throat.

A person was splayed out on the stretcher rolling down the hallway toward me. Long, slender fingers gripped the side of it. It was JJ—it had to be. Hers was the only apartment down the hall from mine.

Her body strained against a convulsion, and she began thrashing and coughing before she lurched upright. Blood splattered her clothes, and her green eyes were wide and circled with red.

“It’ll be all right,” the medic insisted, trying to lay JJ back down onto the stretcher. The woman had blonde hair in a haphazard braid down her back. “Just hold on!”

I jumped out of the way as the medic wheeled JJ closer.

JJ was not going to hold on; she was coughing up blood—it was everywhere. Her arms flailed as she convulsed again, the gurney creaking and rattling as she struggled against it. Blood gurgled from between her lips and trickled down the side of her face and back over her crown tattoo, just below her ear. It wasn’t black anymore; it wasn’t even red—it was a muddled brown of bile and blood.

The elevator doors dinged, like they were about to close, and I threw my arm out to bounce them open again before jumping into the hall, out of the way as much as I could be.

JJ thrashed again, choking and gasping for air, and I covered my mouth to stifle a scream. The stretcher slammed into the back of the elevator and the medic hit the lobby button.

As the doors began to close, JJ reached out, her hand splayed like she was reaching for me, and her eyes met mine. They weren’t green anymore, but red with blood, and she hissed like she was trying to say something.

I choked back a sob as the elevator shut her inside and the hallway fell silent.

I stood motionless in horror. Then my body began to quake. Lightness filled my mind, and my stomach sprang into another somersault. In a frenzy, I ran for my apartment on wobbly legs. My key card beeped angrily at me, then beeped again before the lock clicked, and I shoved the door open. It slammed against the wall as I barely made it to the bathroom. Falling to my knees, I heaved. As my body retched and fear seemed to swallow whole every coherent thought I had, I prayed what happened to JJ wouldn’t be my fate.

Sophie

December 8

My stomach lurched, and I squeezed my eyes closed as I breathed in through my nose. The vomiting. The aching. It was all I could do to take a sip of ginger ale and keep it down. That was supposed to help when you had the flu, right? I’d tried to eat a cracker, but it came roaring back up almost immediately.

I dialed my mom’s cell for the seventh time, and again it rang until her voicemail clicked on. I hung up and tried her work phone. “Come on, Mom,” I rasped. I needed her. But like the first time I’d tried calling her office, it was busy. She was busy. With JJ? With the council meeting? It was probably about the virus, and I was afraid to turn on the television to find out what was happening. I didn’t want a confirmation that what had happened to JJ would also happen to me.

I tucked the blanket higher around my neck and sank further into the couch. I wasn’t sure if the foul feeling in the depths of my stomach was from the flu or an effect of JJ’s blood-rimmed eyes, which I couldn’t stop thinking about. Fear had a physical effect—if I’d learned anything in the past couple days. And even though I knew better than to let it get the better of me, how could I not fear what I’d seen?

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to control each inhale and exhale. In through my nose: long and deep. Out through my mouth: steady, thoughtful, and controlled.

It had been three hours since the medic took JJ away on the stretcher. Three hours of intermittent, unsteady pacing back and forth as I tried to gather the nerve to step into the elevator and go down to see my mom. She’d likely heard what happened to JJ and would know if she was okay. She’d know what to do to make me feel better. My mom had a remedy for everything, even when I didn’t want it. This time, though, I wanted it. I needed her to tell me I would be okay.

But the elevator . . . It was my only option down. I was too nauseous and wobbly to take ten flights of stairs, and I’d hurl before I got halfway down. Fear. Sickness. Whatever was living inside me was taking its toll, and the past thirty-six hours without much food was starting to catch up with me.

I peeled my heavy eyelids open and tried not to think about what I would find in the elevator or worry which parts of JJ might be splattered on the walls.

I held my breath, waiting for a wave of nausea to settle again, and clung to the desperate hope that JJ had survived whatever that was. If she was okay, even so close to death as she seemed, then I would be too. Mrs. Phillips would be okay, and Jesse.

With a slow blink, I stared at the soft glow of Christmas lights wrapped around the window. When I was little, we decorated a lot more than a few strings of lights. But our decorating tradition had dwindled over the years, resulting in untangling only a few strands on Thanksgiving and calling it good. Until now, I never missed our family time together. Where was my dad? He should be here with his family and not off with someone else, living a life that didn’t have us in it.

Tears burned the backs of my eyes, and I choked out a sob. What’s happening? The news reports hadn’t said the flu was anything like what I’d seen. Had they? My mind was so fuzzy, I wasn’t sure of much anymore.

Unfurling myself from my blanket, I walked over to the living room window and pulled back the curtain. The sky had darkened, and night settled in blotting out the gloomy day. I’d never thought Whitely was a scary place but it suddenly seemed terrifying. Where would they have taken JJ? To Anchorage? Seward? Everything was so far away I wasn’t sure she’d make the hour drive in either direction.

The lights of the harbor flickered amidst the falling snow, and though it was barely five in the evening, the world felt darker and colder than usual. A cruise ship, docked at the deep-water pilings down at the mouth of the sound, sent an unexpected wave of chills over my skin. What was it doing here? We didn’t get tourist ships in port in the dead of winter.

A blur of movement caught my attention, and squinting, I could just make out a caravan of lights moving toward me. The closer they drew, the more I could make out a half dozen snowmobiles. They were traveling fast, and headed for the apartment building.

Heart racing, I dropped my phone onto the couch and trudged to the shoe cubby by the door to grab my Ugg boots. I leaned against the wall to steady myself as I tugged them on, dropping my right shoe as I almost fell over, then more adamantly tugged it on. It was all I could do to stay upright as my ponytail swung into my face, nearly throwing me off kilter again. My heavy, thick hair was more annoying than usual, and I growled as I made one last heave to get my other foot into my boot before it fell to the floor.

Flinging the door open as quickly as I could, I hurried toward the elevator, resolved to push another wave of nausea away and make it down to the first floor to see my mom before it was too late. I hesitated at the elevator, but only for a second before I pushed the button down.

The seconds were excruciatingly long, but finally, the doors opened. When a flash of red caught my attention, I closed my eyes and stepped inside, turning around as quickly as I could, only opening my eyes enough to see the panel in front of me. After pressing the lobby floor button, I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing through my nose to quell my hysteria as I prayed the elevator wouldn’t stop until it got to the bottom.

10

Alex

December 8

I dreamed of darkness in sweltering heat. Of heated metal searing through my skin so acute I imagined a knife slicing me from the back of my head down to the base of my spine. It was agonizing. Gashing. The feeling was what nightmares were made of if you feared dull knife blades, like I did. It felt like hundreds of them pierced my skin, and every heartbeat made the pain bolder, swelling to a blistering burn.

I’d seen death, but in a wakeful sleep—conscious, yet unable to open my eyes—it was alarmingly close. And a hauntingly familiar darkness pulled me in even further.

The recognizable scents of burning plastic and something inexplicably noxious filled my nostrils, sharp and astringent in the back of my throat. I pulled the bottom of my pajamas over my exposed, little feet, and swallowed the fear back down.

“Perra estúpida.” The deep hiss of an inebriated voice lingered in my fitful dreams. His rage hummed in the oppressive heat of the upstairs, filling the hall closet where I hid. The hoarding, the dank scent of uncleanliness; it was like homecoming and a death sentence at once—hair-raising and grossly memorable.

I heard her whimper. “I didn’t—”

“Cállate! One fucking thing I asked, Maria. You want the whole fucking town to know what we’re doing in here? Is that why you keep drawing attention?”

Shadows played beneath the closet door. “No, mi amor. Alejandro—it was Alejandro—he was outside playing—”

There was a thump and scuffle, and I cringed knowing her shriek would follow. My insides churned and twisted. My blood burned.

“Worthless fucking puta . . .” On the nights my stepfather was angry, the demon inside him would grow tired before my mother was too far gone. But on the nights he was angry like this—and in another world—there was no stopping him until the frenzied rage was satisfied; until she was nothing more than a trembling heap on the floor that might not move for days.

My little sister began to cry in our bedroom. Though her voice was muffled, and the door closed, I worried he’d move on to her next.

My mother shrieked.

One fleshy thunk followed another, and my chin trembled, my body shaking just as violently.

They wanted Kayla and me out of their hair as much as possible—outside day or night, it didn’t matter which. What they didn’t want was my bringing the kids down the street over to play at our house—a rule I never forgot, for my mother’s sake, but the neighborhood kids didn’t always understand. They didn’t know what would happen, like I did. They didn’t know the kitchen was off limits, or how it would be if my stepfather knew they’d been there.

“Worthless—”

A shriek filled my ears again.

With little hands balled into fists, shaking with panic and fury, I turned the knob and pushed the closet door open with all of my might, screaming and snarling as hot tears streamed down my face.

Hard wood hit sinewy muscle, and I fell back onto the pile of garbage bags I’d cocooned myself within as my stepfather shouted, not with rage this time, but with fear. His cry echoed in my head, descending with one deafening crash after another, followed by a final crunch.

I scrambled to my feet and peered down the stairs in awe. Red smeared the dingy wallpaper like sled marks in the snow, and my stepfather’s body was unnaturally twisted. A dark puddle soaked the threadbare carpet beneath his head. He wasn’t moving.

Relief flooded through me like warm water on a cool day. I basked in it, not fully certain what I’d done, but he’d stopped shouting and my mother had stopped shrieking. I looked at her with an unexpected sense of pride that instantly vanished when I saw her face.

“No—” she gasped, seizing hold of my arm. Her sharp fingernails dug into my flesh as she tried to hold herself steady, and rose to her knees. Her eye was swollen shut and bleeding.

“Stupid hijo,” she rasped, and climbed to her feet. She pushed me aside, back into the closet, as she scrambled past me. “Que hiciste—” My mother’s weak legs gave out, and she practically tumbled down the stairs after my stepfather.

“Mama—” Kayla cracked opened the bedroom door, sobbing.

“Go back inside!” I told her. “Go—”

“What have you done!” my mother squealed. Her screams came hard and fast as she pleaded for him to wake up, and for God to take me instead.

Foghorns echoed in the distance and wind lapped at my skin, making me shudder.

I tried to open my eyes—I needed to move—but my mind and body were leaden with sleep. I could only doze in an inferno that felt like it was melting me from the inside out.

This is how I would die.

This was the end; my mother would get her final wish.

11

Sophie

December 8

The ride down was painfully slow as the floor number changed from four to three, then two to one, until I finally reached the bottom. The elevator doors slid open and a blast of arctic air hit me. The entry doors were propped open, and shouts emanated all the way down the hall.

“Single file!” a man called from the entrance. I glanced back to find two men in reflective vests, ushering a group of people inside and pointing them toward the tunnel that led to the school. A dozen people entered, shaking and wrapped in snow-dusted jackets. One man had a toddler in his arms that didn’t look like it was even moving.

They hurried past me, oblivious as I stood there waiting for them to pass.

“Follow the hall down to the right!” one of the ushers shouted, and pointed with his flashlight, though it was barely visible in the overhead lights.

Utter fear consumed me as I realized they were the people from the ship. None of them looked familiar, and all of them were potentially sick.

“Mom,” I breathed, wrapping my arms around myself. All nausea was forgotten, replaced with a dread unlike any I’d ever felt before. None of this was a good sign.

I headed down the hall behind the group, not dumb or curious enough to follow, but to check my mom’s office a few doors down. “Mom,” I said, louder this time, and my legs moved more quickly. The municipal offices came into view and I practically ran to her open doorway. “Mom—”

She was at her desk and on the landline, just as I’d hoped. Her perfectly primped hair was tossed up in a messy ponytail, away from her face, and her tailored pantsuit was wrinkled.

“I don’t care, Frank!” She gestured wildly. “I need you to get me—” She cursed under her breath as he cut her off. She was clearly frazzled—her skin ashen with exhaustion, or maybe it was worry—and she looked defeated in a way I’d never seen before. But, she was okay.

“Just—call me when you know something.” She slammed the phone into the cradle, and dropped her head into her hands.

“Mom?”

She glanced at me and her blue eyes widened. “Sophie—”

“I saw the people coming in from the cruise ship.”

“I know,” she said as she stood up, steering me back out the door. “But you need to go home.”

“Is this all because of the flu?”

“Yes, it is. That’s why you need to go back up.” She picked up a clipboard off her desk. The sheet of paper it held had a slew of names scribbled on it. Symptoms and Quarantine Area were written at the top of two columns; names were scribbled throughout—names I knew were crossed off the list. I gulped what little air I could manage.

“Do what I say.” My mom gripped my arm. “Do not leave the apartment, Sophie. Do you understand me? This virus is spreading, and I don’t want you to get it.”

I already did, I was about to tell her, but bile rose up my throat and I tried to swallow it down. “Mom—is what happened to JJ going to happen to me? Is she okay?”

“Tessa” a voice rattled through the walkie-talkie. “You better get down here. There’s a—” She turned down the volume dial on the device.

“Mom—”

“You have to go upstairs, Sophie.” Her voice was thin and laced with desperation. “Please.” Her eyes shimmered, and the fear in them told me this wasn’t going to get better anytime soon. “It’s not safe down here, not right now.”

Whatever minute grasp I had on composure dissolved, and my vision blurred with tears. “Then come home with me. I don’t want you to get it.”

“I can’t leave all of these people, Sophie. I’m taking precautions, I promise. I need you to be safe in the house, though, so that I don’t worry about you.” Her gaze bored through me, willing me to understand, and she pointed toward the elevator.

I nodded because her tone commanded me to, but I couldn’t make my feet move to turn around as she headed out the door. I’d never seen her so scared and unkempt. “Mom—”

“Sophie, now!” she said, raising her voice. “Before the police see you. They are quarantining everyone down here into the gymnasium with the people off the ship, do you understand? Nearly everyone on the first five floors is already sick. I don’t want them to see you down here—I do not want you to be locked in there with them until they can get things under control.”

It wasn’t as bad as I thought. It was worse. “What if they can’t?” I blurted. “What if none of this is going to get better?” My thoughts spun as the horror seeped in, pulling me to the brink of hysteria. “I don’t want to—”

“They’re sending help,” she told me, and grabbed my arm. “I promise. I’ll be up soon, but this conversation is pointless if you get caught down here, okay?” The doors to the elevator opened again, and she tugged me inside. “Come on now, we have to be smart—we have to protect ourselves.” Her words sounded rehearsed and empty, like she’d said them a million times or didn’t believe them all at—I wasn’t sure which.

“But Mom,” I tugged away from her. “I’m already sick.” I could barely force the words out.

“No,” she said in a rush. “No, you’re not.” She pressed the elevator button so the doors would close. “Lock yourself in the apartment—don’t open the door for anyone but me.”

“Mom.” My voice was barely audible. It was all too horrifying to be real. “Mom—I’m scared.”

“Good, then listen—it’s the only way.” Her nostrils flared, and she pulled me into her arms, the elevator doors bumping against us before they opened again. “I love you, Sophie. I need you to do this for me, please.” It was a plea, a desperate request, and even though I wanted to stay with her, I didn’t want to disappoint her either.

“I don’t want to leave you,” I cried, tears dripping down my cheeks.

I could feel her body trembling as much as mine, the heat of her enveloping me as she squeezed her arms tighter. “I know, but it’s only for a little while. I need to know what they’re doing down here, so I can keep us safe.” With a final squeeze, she slowly pulled away.

Her watery gaze was imploring and her chest heaved. She waited for me to understand.

Unable to, I nodded. I didn’t want to be a burden when she was in the middle of so much danger.

“Now, please go. Keep warm and stay safe until I can get there—it’s only until help comes,” she promised again, with a smile. “And try to reach your father, and tell him we’re safe.” She wiped the moisture from beneath her eyes. “I love you.”

“I love—”

“There is a mandatory quarantine. Everyone is to remain in their own apartment . . .” Someone’s nasally voice came over the intercom.

Eyes wide, my mom mouthed, “Go,” and then the doors shut between us, and she was gone.

I didn’t care about the blood on the floor around me. Fear and despondency gutted me as I rode the elevator to the tenth floor. Sobs ripped through me as I realized my mom’s hug felt more like a goodbye, and as the doors opened, I reached for the first-floor button to go back down to her then I tumbled to my knees.

Whatever was happening to me, it was too late.

December 9

12

Sophie

December 9

Fleetingly, my consciousness returned with the bright light of the bathroom boring into my brain. I forced my eyes open against their will. I was shaking and cold, despite my clothes, and suffocating in the stench of vomit. It was a smell I’d become so familiar with that I hadn’t noticed at first.

A scream pierced the air and my heavy eyelids pulled themselves open again. Was it the TV? Another scream echoed from somewhere, more distant this time.

Beyond the haze, in the back of my mind some place, I knew I should be afraid, but it was all I could do to keep my eyes open amidst the fever. It was finally here, right in the base of my throat, and alive and coiling in my stomach.

I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten here, and I had no idea how long I’d been curled up on the floor with my insides sour and burning—like lemon juice on a fresh wound.

With a groan, I flushed the toilet, uncertain how anything could still be coming out of me, and searched for the strength to climb to my feet. It felt nearly impossible, but somehow I managed as the world spun around me. I clutched the edge of the counter, then leaned into the doorframe to steady myself.

Bed. I needed my soft bed for my aching bones.

I stumbled out of the bathroom, bracing myself against the wall as I staggered into my bedroom—it was blissfully dark and welcoming. I could hear voices somewhere in the distance, down the hall, in the apartment next door. They seemed to be nowhere and everywhere all at once, but I couldn’t be bothered to care. My clothes hurt my skin. The imperfections in the carpet cut into the bottoms of my feet. My head felt like a splitting rock.

I lingered in my bedroom doorway to catch my breath. I’d never been so tired in my life; I could barely think. I had been worried about something, something important, but I couldn’t remember what it was.

Resting my head against the cool doorframe, I pried my eyes open. The sight of my bed brought tears to my eyes. I wanted to sleep forever and never wake up.

Forcing myself to keep moving, I took a step forward and stumbled, my knees hitting the floor with an explosive pain that shot its way through my legs.

With a weak cry, I grabbed at my comforter and strained to pull my upper body high enough to fall onto the mattress so I could rest. I heard a crash in the apartment below me, but I only got so far as peeling off my vomit-covered pants before everything faded to darkness once again.

Two Days Later

13

Alex

December 11

My grandmother lay weak and permanently attached to an oxygen machine in a hospital bed as her milky, green eyes blinked slowly up at me. They’d always been my comfort—my reassurance that everything would be okay.

“Did you eat the casserole I left you?” she rasped, worrying about me, even with her final few breaths. “It’s potato and bacon—your favorite.”

Tears welled in my eyes, but I forced a wavering smile and nodded. “Yeah, I did.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her that had been weeks ago, she just didn’t realize it.

She tried to reach for my face, but her hand trembled in mid-air and she dropped it onto her chest. She was the only good thing left in my life, and I could see the life force she clung to fading before my eyes. What was I going to do without her?

I took her soft, wrinkly fingers in mine, waiting for the warmth in her body to return. Willing her to stay with me just a little bit longer. “Don’t go, Abuela,” I pleaded. “Please.” Since my mother’s death, and Kayla being taken away to live with a different family, my grandma was all I had left. All composure I’d held onto for the past week was gone the moment the doctor told me it was time to say goodbye.

Even if I’d known this moment would come—and knew she could never take me in because her health was so bad—I prayed she would stay with me until I could become the man she always said I would be, until she could see it for herself. “Please . . .” I lowered my forehead to her arm and cried. “I need you.”

“No, mijo. You are strong.” She paused to draw in a strangled breath. “And you are good—”

I shook my head with a sob, knowing that wasn’t true. I’d killed my mother by killing my stepfather, even if he was a monster. I’d gotten my half sister taken away—I didn’t even know where she was. What if her foster family was as mean as mine?

Without my grandma I had no one left, and I didn’t want to go back to the cage the Smiths kept me in—a corral, but for kids. I’d already run away from them once, from the small room that felt like a prison I was only released from for chores and school. I didn’t want to be locked away. I didn’t want to live with strange people anymore. I wanted to be here, with her, forever.

“Alejandro,” my grandma said more brusquely. “Look at me.” Her oxygen machine beeped, and she had to clear her throat. Her voice was a phlegmy veil of goodbyes, and I couldn’t bear to listen. “Look at me,” she said more slowly, commanding me to listen.

Forcing myself to meet her gaze, I lifted my head, staring at the blurry outline of her face.

She smiled. “You are so strong, mijo,” she said, drawing in another arduous breath. “You, of all people, will be fine without me.”

“No,” I whispered, sniffling back tears. Why did no one ever stay?

“Mijo,” she said softly, her eyebrows lifting in a plea of their own. “You are almost thirteen. You will be old enough to make your own decisions soon, but you must be good. Be kind. Be strong. One day you will have a good life and people who love you. I know you will.”

I shook my head, my chin quivering. She said that all the time, but everyone always left. My mom. My real father. Kayla was gone and it was all my fault. Now my abuela was leaving me too.

* * *

Metal clanked on metal, and the distant ding of buoys on the harbor filled the crisp air around me. Sea birds called, and power lines hummed somewhere close by as I peeled my eyes open.

The dull, steely-gray sky cast swaying shadows in the whistling breeze, and two-by-fours lined the ceiling above me. Life jackets hung from hooks on the cement walls, and a sharp pain shot through my ears and temples as I lifted my head. My eyes were wet, my mouth dry, and my throat felt like sandpaper as I tried to swallow. I was pretty sure a seabird had crawled into my mouth while I was sleeping and died.

When my grandma’s face flashed to mind, I glanced at the skylights trying to remember where I was, and how I’d gotten there. All I could recall was being cold in the flames of a fire.

Sitting up on a pile of blankets, I gazed down from a rickety boat carcass that shimmied each time I moved and onto a grease-stained floor in the empty warehouse. There were three bays with vehicle lifts—maybe for boats, and exhaust puffed from a truck’s tailpipe, rumbling just outside the roll-up door.

I wasn’t the only one here.

I licked my lips—trying to determine if I was apprehensive, caught in a place I didn’t belong or recognize, or if I was indifferent—because water was all that mattered. I was dehydrated, and the person who owned the truck idling outside might be able to help me.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been unconscious, only that the incandescent sun was now rising just above the cloud-dusted mountains in the south.

I peered down at my sullied jacket and mud-crusted gloves, confused. Only vaguely did I remember crawling. Where and for how long I couldn’t recall, but I’d wanted to die—that part I remembered clearly.

I pulled off my tattered beanie and rubbed my hand over my head.

I’d had dreams of my stepfather, lying dead on the floor at the foot of the stairs. I saw my mother hovering over him, and recalled her crumpled body on the kitchen floor only days after—the stench of vomit, the pool of blood surrounding her. I remembered the guilt and confusion I’d felt. Now I felt anger as the memories flourished from a faint flicker, previously pushed to the back of my mind, to resentment. I thought I’d died somewhere between my dreams and now, and still the past was there, breathing down my neck like a hungry dragon.

Rubbing my face, I forced my eyes to stay open—to wake up and get out of the warehouse. All that mattered was water.

I clung to the ledge of the boat and winced as I pulled myself to my feet, trying to stay as quiet as I could so I wouldn’t alarm anyone who might be around. My body didn’t want to move, it protested with every infinitesimal movement, but I had no choice.

The instant I jumped out of the boat and my feet touched the cold cement, I regretted it. A biting chill and sharp pain shot through my heel and up my leg. “Sweet Mary . . .”

One footstep at a time, I made it to the roll-up door. I probably should’ve cared more that someone would see me, but I hadn’t done anything wrong, at least not that I knew of.

Hesitating at the door, I squinted into the cab of the Dodge, trying to make out any people inside. Through the soft glow of the muted morning reflected on the glass, it looked empty. I stepped around the truck and took a few eager steps into the wind. My feet dragged a little, but that was fine with me. Snow surrounded me, the closest thing to water I was going to get, and I lowered to my knees beside a mound of freshly fallen snow. It was pristine and white, and I shoved a handful of snow into my mouth. The moisture seeped into every dry crevice, instantly reviving my tongue. My throat felt frozen as I swallowed it down, but at least it was wet. Snow had never tasted so good, and I bit into another handful, ignoring the numbness that followed and the cold burn in my nose. I reveled in every blissful moment.

The morning was glacially cold, like the harbor itself had frozen over—not just the mountains around Whitely—and the wind was harsher than I anticipated, though I wasn’t certain why. Alaska was a bitch when she wanted to be, no matter where you were. In the dirty city streets, in the open wild—even out here in a cove of picturesque perfection—everything was always a test.

Enjoying the last of the melting snow in my mouth, I grounded myself to the familiar brine in the air, inherent in these seaside towns. I was by the pier, across the street from the Heston Building—the barracks toward the edge of the town. Whitely wasn’t a big city, but after the night I’d had and the missing hours of who knew what, I didn’t feel like walking the mile or so back to the apartment complex. Plus, a storm was coming in.

I stared out at the impending gray and wondered where the Dodge’s driver was. I had half a mind to use their truck if they weren’t going to, but I imagined that wouldn’t go over well. A faraway voice in my head reminded me that I didn’t care.

I climbed back up to my feet and squinted into the bright sheen of snow a few yards away. Just beyond the Dodge’s front bumper was a mound with a familiar outline.

Taking a few hesitant steps closer, I told myself my luck was not this bad. I was not going to stumble upon a dead body here, in Whitely of all places.

But I was wrong.

Eyes wide, I glanced furtively around. I would’ve guessed frostbite or maybe a heart attack by the look of the man’s age, but he had a handgun gripped in his blue fingers. Why was he holding a gun? I didn’t see any blood-stained snow, and it didn’t look like there had been a struggle, but I wasn’t a CSI, and I had no idea what the hell had happened.

No one was out here, save for a dead man and me. No one to tell the authorities what had happened or that I hadn’t done anything wrong. Even if I knew they couldn’t pin this on me, I worried they’d try. Not that I’d ever been tagged a murderer, but I knew how things worked in places like this. When shit happened in inconsequential towns like Whitely, the authorities started looking for strange coincidences, and a new kid with a laundry list of petty crimes would be enough for them to dive deeper and question everything about me. And whether I liked it or not—accidental or not—I’d been associated with both of my parents’ deaths, and I began to spiral.

“Shit!” I grabbed my head and I nearly stumbled back as my eyes shifted around the white expanse. There were abandoned cars and shipping containers further down the shore, but there were no other close vehicles, no people, or other bodies that I could see. There were no bear tracks in the snow. What the hell was he protecting himself from?

The truck engine began to peter out, and I realized the old man must’ve been there for hours, maybe longer—the truck running for just as long.

He’d been running from something or someone, but there was no way in hell I was sticking around to find out the rest. With wide, determined steps, I headed for the apartment complex. I’d tell them what I found, even if I wasn’t sure how I would answer when they asked me what I was doing out here. I can’t remember was not an option. Getting away from Jimmy, that was close enough to the truth.

I hadn’t taken a dozen steps, imagining an anonymous call to the police might be an alternative solution, when I heard a moaning cry drift toward me in the wind. My body stilled and the hair on the back of my neck stood up—I could practically feel it reaching for safety. The cry came again, and it sounded small but was penetrating, much like a seagull’s cry pierced the sea air. It was more human than that though.

I gazed up at the rundown barracks across the street. It was a lonely, godforsaken place. You would have to hold me at gunpoint to get me to go in, but the cry emanating from inside was almost like a ghost, luring me closer. I glanced back at the old man, his outline barely visible. Maybe he hadn’t been alone.

The hair rose on the back of my arms this time. I thought it might be a trick—why, I wasn’t sure—but some delinquent teens could’ve been playing inside, fucking with me. But I’m in Whitely. I was sure I’d met just about all of the teens in this place, and I couldn’t imagine Jeannie inside, playing a prank like that on me. And there was still the old man’s body to consider.

The cry met my ears again, and sounded so small and so scared, I thought it might be a child or a frightened girl.

Fleetingly, I thought of Sophie.

There was another despondent moan, and my heart raced faster. I had to think fast, someone could be injured or dying inside.

Or someone was being hurt.

There was no way to know what I was walking into, and I wasn’t stupid enough to go in empty handed. Against my better judgement, I hurried back for the old man’s gun. He’d been worried about something enough to carry it; I’d be signing my death certificate by ignoring my gut and going in there at all, let alone unarmed.

I eyed the pistol, trying to ignore the intermittent crying. I could’ve run back to the apartments a mile or so away to get someone else to help whoever was inside, but deep down, I knew this was on me. By the time I could get someone else to check it out, it might be too late, and I would have to live with that. I wasn’t sure I could take being the cause of any more death.

“Fuuuck,” I growled, and pried the gun from the man’s frostbitten fingers. I was definitely going to regret this.

14

Alex

December 11

Heart thrumming, and nerve endings wired and firing like never before, I slowed just outside the behemoth-sized building built of cement and steel, and peered up at the boarded and broken windows. White puffs of air dispersed around my face as I listened. I could hear the wind whistling through the halls, but there was no more crying. The coward in me hoped I was only hearing things.

Just when I’d half-convinced myself my imagination was simply fettered with ghost stories about this place, another cry echoed from a couple of stories up. I knew in my gut it was a child, and a new, desperate fear took over.

I stared down at the gun, realizing it would only scare a kid. I released the magazine to count the bullets. It was important to know what I had in case I needed to use it, even if only as a warning shot to scare someone or something away. I felt a pang of regret amidst a wave of relief; there were no bullets—the damn thing wasn’t even loaded.

I tossed the empty magazine aside and ran for a doorless entry at the end of the building a dozen yards away, the gun gripped tightly in my hand. I prayed it would be menacing enough if I needed it to be, and that the day would end with my feeling like a good Samaritan, not filled with regret or worse.

Determined, I stepped through a busted glass door and into the building’s dark corridor, where I was hit instantly with the dank scent of mold. Even if I could see patches of light through the windows along the building, the darkness in between was more ominous than I was comfortable with. I peered to the left and then to the right. By the look of the outside, the building was a few stories tall, with a hundred rooms at least to house a garrison of soldiers. And other than the need to find a staircase leading up, I had no idea which way to go. Preferring more light than darkness, I started down the hall to the right.

The passageway was narrow and cluttered with debris. Weather-ravaged and rotted, the walls were tagged with graffiti and had begun to crumble, and the floors were wet with puddled snow. Each footstep echoed as I tried not to step too clumsily around uprooted tiles and deteriorated stone. Rusted piping lined the ceiling, and old wiring from the overhead lights swung in the wind. Loose glass rattled in window frames, and old doors squeaked in unison with a distant drip.

My body was aching. I was hungry. Thirsty. Exhausted. But none of it matched the fear I felt standing in a place that screamed, run.

My knuckles tightened around the gun grip as I peered through an open door, into what looked like a hospital room in my search for the stairs. Rusted bed frames were stacked in the far right corner, and moss grew up the walls. I didn’t want to know what had happened in this place—in a military hospital—so I moved on to the next door, petrified by the thought of what might jump out at me.

But despite the horror of what would happen in Stephen King’s world, the rooms were mostly empty and all of them the same: dirty, chilly, and hauntingly disturbing.

Warnings to turn back were scribbled on the walls, and Metallica and Led Zeppelin insignias overlapped what I assumed were hex symbols. Everything was eerie and equally warped by the elements. Vintage office chairs were scattered around, and a few moth-eaten uniforms that looked like they were from another time were discarded in a random pile on the floor. I passed a mess hall and a theater with dozens of torn seats facing a wall of peeling paint. Then another moaning cry drifted toward me.

I squinted, barely able to make out a flight of stairs at the end of the hall.

I walked faster, debating if I should call out and tell whoever was crying that I was there to help, and risk losing the element of surprise, which I might need.

Tapping the unloaded gun against my leg, I blew out a breath and stepped into the pitch-black stairwell. I closed my eyes and told myself this was nothing like the closet they put me in back home, even if it smelled like it. Biting back the gut-churning response my body had to this place, I opened my eyes and climbed toward the next level.

The only promise of light crept in around the broken second level door, and I climbed faster despite my protesting muscles. It had been one helluva day, and it wasn’t even noon yet.

My steps fell in pace with my heartbeat, and I stopped to catch my breath on the landing. As I straightened, a cold tendril touched the back of my neck, and I shouted, stumbling out of the stairwell. I batted and smacked the possible remnants away as I spun around.

Loose wiring swung in the doorway.

Loose wiring was what nearly gave me a heart attack. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. I officially needed to get out of the creepiest building I’d ever seen, before I lost my damn mind.

A clank and a scurry of footsteps echoed in the hall ahead, and my head whipped to the side.

“Hello,” I said quietly, holding my breath as my voice ricocheted in the dimness. I didn’t dare move as I strained to listen. “I heard someone crying—I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.” My voice was deep, but my chest heaved fast and hard. “I’m gonna go if you don’t say something,” I threatened.

Hushed voices drifted down the hall, and I heard the patter of feet again.

“Listen, kid.” I was done trying to be the good guy. “If this is some idea of a joke, I swear to God—” My voice caught in my throat as a small girl peeked her head around the corner of the hallway, her long hair catching in the breeze. I couldn’t make out much in the shadows, but she looked around five or six years old, and scared. Her eyes shimmered with tears, but she seemed to be in one piece.

“What are you doing in here?” My stomach churned as it dawned on me that no one in their right mind would be out here playing, and definitely not alone. “Where—” I cleared my throat. “Where are your parents? You shouldn’t be in here.”

Wiping the tears from her eyes, the girl straightened and stepped into the hallway—fully into view.

“Don’t—” a small voice chided behind her. “Thea!” An arm reached out to grab her, but she stepped out of the way and glanced back at him.

A boy a few years older than her stepped out into the open and reached hastily for her hand.

“I won’t hurt you,” I told them, holding my palms up.

“Then why do you have a gun?” the boy asked, pulling the little girl closer beside him.

“I’ll tell you why I have a gun when you explain why you’re up here, and why you’re both crying.” I glanced behind them, half-expecting someone or something else to be lurking, bearing fangs with wild, red eyes.

I studied the little girl, who was clearly more willing to speak than the boy was. “It’s Thea, right? Are you in here alone?”

She started to nod, and the boy jerked her arm. Thea glared at him, like a little sister glares at an older brother, but he shook his head in warning.

“At least come back with me, out of the cold. You shouldn’t be playing in here, you’ll both get sick.”

“We’re not playing,” Thea squeaked out.

“And we’ve already been sick,” the boy added. Both of them sniffed, and Thea wiped at her eyes.

Taking a few slow steps forward, I tried to make out their features—to see their sincerity. The closer I drew, the more rigid they became, but they didn’t run. When I was thirty feet away, I stopped. The gray morning light illuminated the skin beneath their eyes—red and raw from crying. They had on puffy coats, soiled pajama bottoms, snow boots, and their lips were chapped.

“Have you been sleeping here?” The thought of it nearly broke my heart, especially as pure sadness and exhaustion filled their eyes. “How long have you been out here?”

Thea shrugged and rubbed her eye with the palm of her hand again.

“Since last night,” the boy explained. His voice was hoarse, either from fear or from sadness.

“Alone?”

Thea shook her head. “With Mommy.”

I crouched down, feeling the cold cement of the floor seep through my boots. The boy’s gaze fixed on the gun in my hand, and I shook my head. “It’s not loaded.” I tossed it aside to reassure them. “I wasn’t sure what I’d find in here.” I glanced between them. “Where is your mom now?”

While the boy was deciding what to say, Thea pointed behind her.

“Thea,” he chided. “Stop it.”

I clenched my jaw, restless to move things along and get the hell out of there. “I’m Alex,” I told the little girl, since the boy seemed too skeptical to trust me. “I want to help. Your mommy, she’s here in the building?”

The boy heaved out a sigh. “She fell.”

“That’s who I heard crying?” I jumped to my feet and took a step toward them as the boy took a few steps back. “Look, I’m not going to hurt you,” I said, holding up my hands again. I couldn’t help the impatience in my voice. “But I need to help your mom. Don’t you want me to help her? Take me to her—okay? It’s the only way I can.”

Thea hurried down the hallway, tugging her brother behind her. I fell into step behind them, uneasy as they began to slow at a room a few doors down before they disappeared inside. Reluctantly, I stepped inside behind them. It was an old office of sorts with an overturned desk in the corner and a moth-eaten blanket piled in the corner. The kids stopped in front of the far window. “Why are we in here?” There was no mother—crying, injured, or other.

Thea looked from me to the window and took a step away from it, like she was afraid of heights.

Confused, I inched closer and reluctantly looked down into the snow. A woman’s form, twisted and broken, was partially covered with snow.

I spun around and looked between them. The little girl grabbed her brother’s hand and they both eyed me warily. “She fell out the window?”

They looked at each other. “Yeah, she fell,” the brother said.

“The bad men were coming,” Thea explained. “She wanted to get away from the bad men.”

The bad men? “What did they want?” The boy’s hands were crusted with dry blood, and the dirt on their clothes looked more like streaks—like they’d been dragged. “Did they hurt you?”

Something didn’t feel right. When neither of them spoke, I took a slow step closer. “You won’t be in trouble. Whatever happened last night, it’s not your fault. I promise.” I knew what it felt like to be scared of the truth. “But you have to tell me what happened. Where are the bad men?” If there was one thing I could do for these kids, it was to figure out a way to get them the help they needed.

Beau shrugged. “We didn’t see them—”

“She tried to push Beau,” Thea blurted. “But I didn’t want her to.” Her face crumpled and she began to cry again.

“You tried to save your brother?” I said, looking at the boy’s size compared to her own, then out the window again, two stories down at the woman’s body. Had she even fallen far enough to die on impact, or had she frozen to death after?

Strangely, her feet were bare and she looked like she was in nothing more than soiled pajamas. No sane person would be outside wearing next to nothing. “She tried to push you,” I repeated, and I began to put the pieces together. I could understand their fear and imagine her in a craze. My gaze fixed on a dark blur on her wrist, and squinting, I gulped a lungful of air. A lotus tattoo was placed squarely on her wrist, and I felt sick to my stomach all over again.

“Mrs. Gunderson—” I looked at Thea and Beau. “Katie Gunderson is your mom—you’re her sick kids?”

They blinked at me, their chins trembling as they watched me pace in a sudden panic. My teacher was dead—and she’d tried to kill her kids? While part of me couldn’t believe it, the reversal made even less sense. No woman in her right mind would bring her sick kids out into an abandoned building without proper clothing in the middle of the night.

Their mom is dead. Their dead mom is my teacher.

“Look,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut as I realized this was some shitty shit I happened to stumble on. “We’ll get it all sorted out, okay? We’ll get you home.” At least that part I could figure out. “You guys need to get warm, and we need to find your dad—” I frowned. “Where is your dad?”

Beau shrugged, and Thea blinked at me.

“We’ll find someone to help—we’ll find your dad, okay? We’ll find help,” I repeated more quietly, for myself this time.

Thea nodded, clearly happy to get out of the barracks; but once again, Beau hesitated. “What will they do to her?”

“To who?”

“Thea,” he said.

“Kid, she’s like, five. They won’t do anything—they won’t even believe it. I don’t even believe it.” I nodded down the hall. “Now, come on. This place is freaking me out.”

I turned again, finally hearing the pitter-patter of footsteps behind me, and I headed back toward the stairwell. The kids whisper-argued back and forth, but I couldn’t understand what they were saying. I was walking too fast, the adrenaline pumping too loud.

None of it made any sense—not the old man with his empty gun, not Thea being strong enough to push her mother out of a window, and not my teacher being crazy enough to hurt her own kids.

I’d never been so grateful to feel snow beneath my feet as we came out of the building. The wind raked over me, nearly making me stumble, but I would brave whatever I had to, to get back to Jimmy and his shitty-ass apartment.

Thea screeched as she tried to catch her scarf, flapping away in the wind. Her hair whipped around her face, and Beau ran after her scarf to no avail. It was nearly a mile back to the apartment complex, and as tall and close as it looked from where we stood, the kids had already been through enough.

I searched the parked vehicles scattered around the warehouse a hundred yards away. The Dodge was out of gas, and the only vehicle that looked like it might even start was an old Ford van, parked under an awning beside the warehouse.

I flipped my collar up around my ears, wishing I hadn’t forgotten my beanie in the boat, and jogged over to the van.

“Come on!” I called to them, and was relieved the driver side door was unlocked when I reached it. Now, I just needed the damn thing to start. I searched around inside for the keys.

The passenger side door squeaked open. “Is this your car?” Beau asked, his nose and lips were pink with cold.

No,” I told him, reaching under the dashboard to feel for the wiring. “But we’re going to borrow it.”

15

Alex

December 11

Hot air hit me as we stepped through the side entrance into the apartment building. I blew a stray bit of snow from my cheek and peeked down the hall. The door swung shut behind us, bathing us in one last rush of frigid air before we were surrounded by sudden silence.

Unlike the moment I stomped out of the building to find a place to sleep, exhausted with my head throbbing, no one was rushing around or herding me out the door this time. The hissing vents were all I could hear, a strange sweet stench in the air was all I could smell.

I glanced over my shoulder at Thea and Beau. I’d been awake less than a couple of hours and there were two kids relying on me to help them. I just hoped that I could.

Certain we would find someone, anyone to help us, I peered down the hallway. “This is the direction everyone was going,” I remembered aloud. It was where the signs pinned up on the walls pointed to as well, so we followed the arrows. All I needed was to find one adult. They’d know what to do with two orphaned kids. They might even know who their father was and where to find him. Everyone knew everyone in a place like this.

But the longer we walked in silence, the more certain I was that something was not right—no, not something, nothing was right. Not the fever I thought would kill me, or the kids hiding in an abandoned building, and not the dead man I’d found outside the warehouse, or my dead teacher.

At least the apartment complex was lit, and after stalking the abandoned hallways of the Heston Building, the connection tunnel to the classrooms and gymnasium felt less ominous than it had the first day of school.

“Hello?” The wind rushed outside the tunnel. I stopped where the hallway forked, right for the classrooms and left for the gym.

I looked back at Beau and Thea a few yards behind me. “I’m going to find someone, but stay here, okay?”

Beau’s lips pursed, and his eyes shone with concern. “Don’t leave,” he said, taking a step closer.

“I’m not going far, okay? Just down here. You can see me the whole way.” I peeled off my soiled jacket, growing too warm in the heat of the building. “I just need to see if there are people who can help us. If there aren’t, I’ll come right back. I promise.” Even if I was all they had, it made me feel a little better that Beau had warmed to me, at least a little, like maybe, finally, he was starting to trust me.

“Look,” I said, gesturing down the hall. The lights flickered, but there was no one in either direction. “No monsters. I’ll be right back.”

Finally, they both conceded, and leaned against the wall to wait for my return.

Letting out a deep breath, I peered back down the hall toward the gym. I didn’t like how quiet everything was, not compared to what it had been, and though my instinct was to turn back, I walked closer. There was only one way to find help.

The further down the hall I walked, the more I noticed a trend. A couple of purses and backpacks were discarded in the corridor, as well as a lone tennis shoe. Things were hastily abandoned, but it was the fact they were important items, like shoes and purses, that worried me the most. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, but the closer I drew to the gym, the stronger the sickly-sweet stench in the air became. It wasn’t good, whatever it was. Every trembling nerve in my body told me as much.

I swallowed thickly as the gym doors came into view. “Hello, is anyone there—” I stopped a yard or so shy of the doorway, staring at five fingers attached to a half-closed hand lying over the threshold, the rest of the body out of view. I clenched my jaw so tight, my teeth ground together.

Whose hand was in the doorway, and what else would I find when I stepped closer?

I glanced frantically back at Thea and Beau. “Stay there,” I reiterated with a harsh whisper. Whatever authority my voice held was enough, and Beau nodded, pulling his sister closer to him. My eyes were already burning from the acrid scent permeating the corridor, and I knew exactly where it was coming from.

Sucking in a breath, I inched closer. I didn’t want to know what was inside, but some sick part of me needed to—to know what was in the gym.

“Hello?” Like ripping off a bandage, I forced myself to take four quick steps closer so I could see, and just as quickly, as I saw the flash of a gaping mouth and red-splattered body, I spun back around and heaved.

The sight. The scent. The utter disbelief. All of it came pouring out of me, wringing my stomach dry, every last bit of energy with it.

A flash was all I’d needed. Bodies were everywhere. On cots lined up against the walls, wrapped in blankets on the floor. Some bodies were sprawled out, others doubled over. All of them were deceased.

I gagged, spitting the bile from my mouth.

There were carts covered in bloodied rags. I could see the people in their pajamas and scrubs, street clothes and uniforms. Women and men, children and babies. They all came here to die. And I gagged again.

The flu had come and gone, and these people hadn’t made it. But there were others, like me and Beau and Thea, there had to be, and I stumbled back down the hallway toward them. The gymnasium was no longer a makeshift hospital, it was a crypt, and we had to find the other survivors.

“Beau,” I called, clearing my throat. “Where do you live? We have to find your dad.”

16

Sophie

December 11

“Effective immediately, the Coast Guard will patrol all ports and harbors, airports, and railways to enforce this ban. State troopers will patrol the streets to ensure everyone conducts themselves in an orderly manner.”

The sound of an alarm made me jolt up in bed. “What?” I blinked, looking around, momentarily lost in the pale shadows of my room. “Mom?” I said, licking my lips. They were rough against my tongue, and it felt like I’d eaten handfuls of sand.

The high-pitched noise sounded from the living room again, and I startled awake even more.

“The following message is issued at the request of emergency management.” A man’s voice resonated through the house.

“Mom!” I called again, wishing she would turn the TV down. I flung my covers back and winced as I tried to climb out of bed. It felt like I’d been run over by a truck. Twice.

“Due to the possibility of a viral outbreak, a mandatory quarantine has been issued for all cities in Alaska with five hundred or more civilians.”

I paused, my robe in hand, and listened as the man’s words began to sink in.

“Alaska residents, including those in Juneau, Anchorage, and Fairbanks, are asked to stay tuned to television and radio stations for further updates.”

I rushed out to the living room, nearly running into the arm of the couch.

White and bold, EMERGENCY ALERT SYSTEM flashed on the black screen of the TV. A statewide quarantine?

The EAS screen continued to flash in silence. “Mom, are you hearing this?” I fumbled to her bedroom, dread filling me when I saw her bed was made, and she wasn’t in there. “Mom . . .” But she’d turned the TV on, right? Or had I? I remembered screaming and voices in my dreams. Had it been the TV?

I hurried back to the couch and reached for my phone sticking out from between the couch cushions. Only 5 percent battery life. I barely cared. I dialed my mom’s cell as the crazed night came flooding back to me.

“Mom, answer the phone!” I yelped. I pulled my phone from my ear and stared at the clock dumbly.

Two days—I’d been out for two days! I heard my mom’s voice in my phone speaker. “Mom—” I held it to my ear again.

“—Tessa Collins. Please leave me a message, and I will return your call at my earliest convenience. If this is about the upcoming election, please call my work phone at 342-3493. Thank you.”

The message beeped, but all I could do was breathe into the void.

Quarantine. The word was jarring, though I wasn’t sure why. Of course, it made sense. JJ was coughing up blood. She couldn’t breathe.

If things were as bad as I thought they were, the news had to be reporting about it somewhere. I dropped my cell phone and clicked the remote to pull up CNN, but every single channel was the same—black.

The EAS signal beeped again, and the white letters continued to flash on the screen. EMERGENCY ALERT SYSTEM.

“The civil authorities have issued a civil emergency message beginning at 4:05 p.m. The following message is issued at the request of the governor of the state of Alaska. This is not a test. The State of Alaska is declaring an official ban on all trade and commerce. All travel is restricted to minimize the spread of the infectious disease. Effective immediately, the Coast Guard will patrol all ports and harbors, airports, and railways to enforce this ban. State troopers will patrol the streets to ensure everyone conducts themselves in an orderly manner.”

The hole in my stomach grew, and I picked up my phone to dial my mom’s work number this time. I sighed when it wasn’t busy, and sat down on the couch, allowing myself to calm down long enough to catch my breath. But as the phone continued to ring, the nothingness inside my stomach began to churn again. “Pick up,” I pleaded, tears filling my eyes.

I dialed her number again. No answer. Then dialed again, knowing she might not be at her desk, but if she heard her phone ring from wherever she was, she would pick it up . . . if she could. “Please pick—”

“Jenny, it’s Elle!” A voice echoed in the hallway. “Is anyone in there? I’m looking for my sister, Jenny St. James.” I could hear a woman pounding a few doors down. “Jenny, it’s me.” Desperation filled her voice as she drew closer, banging and calling to no avail.

I ran to the door to peek out the peephole. I couldn’t see her.

“Somebody . . . Hello!” A gut-wrenching sob filled the hallway, and I rested my forehead against the door, uncertain if I should open it. A quarantine meant things were bad. She might have been infected, but I was desperate to know what was happening out there. I was desperate to talk to someone.

“Hello,” the woman sobbed, as the hope drained from her voice.

If she’d been downstairs, she could tell me what was happening. Biting my lip, I squeezed the tears from my eyes and shook my head, praying I wouldn’t regret opening the door.

Reluctantly, I unlocked it. Even if I was going to make a run for the elevator to get downstairs, I would have to see her. But when I cracked the door open, the hallway was quiet.

I opened the door further, and poked my head out.

“Hello?” she whispered. She was braced against the wall a dozen yards to the right, cheeks red as she wiped the tears from her wide eyes. Her snow jacket and beanie were discarded on the carpet, and she clasped her gloved hands together. “Oh, thank God.” She ran toward me, and the gun in her belt flashed in the overhead lights. Barely containing a shriek, I slammed the door shut again, and locked it.

“No!” she shouted.

Stupid. Stupid—stupid Sophie.

“Please—please don’t shut the door.” The woman banged on the other side, rattling my head against the door as I leaned back, silently pleading she’d go away.

I covered my face with my hand to stifle my cries.

“I need to find my sister. She lives on this floor—Jenny St. James. Please—you’re the only person I’ve seen.”

She knocked again, only this time, my breath caught in my throat. The only person she’d seen?

“Do you know her? She’s my twin—she looks just like me.” Her pounding ceased, and I heard a thud against the door. “Please,” she whispered. “I need your help.”

She hadn’t seen anyone else?

Wiping the tears from my eyes, perhaps to appear stronger than I was, I slid the chain lock into place and creaked the door open a crack.

“Oh, thank you—thank you!” The woman was right; she was JJ’s twin, though she was very much alive compared to her sister. “Do you know where Jenny lives?”

“JJ lived there,” I rasped, and nodded next door.

Her twin didn’t skip a beat as she rushed toward the apartment and disappeared inside.

* * *

Ten minutes and three glasses of water later, I was dressed in a sweatshirt and my pajama shorts, which was about all I could manage in the heat of the building. I was unable to resist the idea of going next door. JJ’s sister was still in there, and I needed to know what she’d learned downstairs.

Head aching and arms weak, I opened the front door and peeked my head out. JJ’s apartment door was still open, and I could hear footsteps echoing on the tile kitchen floor. Arms wrapped around myself, I crept down the hall, still uncertain I trusted the woman at all, and after a dozen or so yards, I stopped in the doorway of JJ’s apartment, and peered in.

Her twin stood in the kitchen, staring at a photo in her hand. I’d seen twins before, but not identical ones in person. They were so similar and so very different at the same time. JJ’s hair was long, nearly down to her waist, but her sister’s hung just past her shoulders. JJ wore all black most of the time, but her sister looked more like a college student come home for the holidays. She seemed younger somehow too.

The floor creaked beneath my feet, and she looked at me. Her eyes were sad, and dark circles shadowed them. I knew the feeling.

She held up the photo of her sister. “Do you know where she is?”

I blinked at her, uncertain what to say, and in my hesitation, she stepped closer.

“Have you seen my sister or not?” Her nostrils flared, and her voice was thick with fear.

Her sister was dead, I’d seen her name crossed out on the clipboard, but I didn’t know how to tell her; all I could do was nod. “They took her away on a stretcher.”

She straightened and her eyebrows drew together. I wasn’t sure if it was sadness or resolve that filled her green eyes. “To quarantine?”

“I don’t know.” I had no idea if she’d made it that far or not.

“You don’t know? Did she go to quarantine or not?”

“I don’t know!” I barked back, and wiped my nose with my sleeve. “I never saw her again. My mom told me to stay upstairs and not open the door or leave this floor—she made me swear.” It was a plea, a frantic screech, because the truth was I had no idea what happened to her sister, just that she was dying the last time I saw her, and I couldn’t imagine someone coming back from that.

A resigned defeat dimmed the woman’s eyes, and she nodded. It was as if she’d already known. “Where did your mom go?”

I shook my head and threw my hands up. “She was helping the people from the cruise ship on the first floor. I’ve been calling her, but she hasn’t answered.”

This time, her eyes widened with surprise. “She’s the mayor.”

How could she know? I stepped closer, my legs already shaking from both weakness and fear, but I dared to hope. “Have you seen her?”

With an all too familiar reluctance, she nodded. Her steadying deep breath said it all.

Tears, hot and burning in the backs of my eyes, filled my vision. “She’s dead?” I croaked. The sympathy in her gaze barely registered as I choked out a sob. “My mom’s dead?”

A cloud of despair settled over me in her silence. “She’s dead . . . ” I wasn’t sure I’d even spoken the words as every part of me began to unravel. My mom couldn’t be dead. She was going to come home when everything was fixed.

I doubled over, gasping for breath as another body-wracking sob overcame me. I didn’t get to tell her how much I loved her—I didn’t get to say goodbye.

The woman wrapped her arms around me and pulled me against her, her body trembling with quiet sobs. I grabbed hold of her shirt as a cancerous melody of fear, regret, and sadness consumed me. My mom was dead. I would never see her again, ever. And I was alone.

17

Alex

December 11

We checked the tourism office on the first floor, hoping Beau and Thea’s dad would be at his desk, but he wasn’t. I made the kids stay near the broom closet while I checked the video rental shop and market. The market was trashed, completely raided, and I assumed it was to feed the gym full of people who hadn’t made it.

Desperate to find someone besides us, we opted to take the stairs up to Jimmy’s apartment, one floor below the Gundersons. The blood splattered elevator wasn’t something I thought I could handle after what I’d seen in the gym, and I tried to push it from my mind.

Jimmy wasn’t there, but his apartment was destroyed. Everything was upturned and broken, including the window. Even if I knew in my gut that I’d find him eight stories below, I had to check—just to know for sure. I got close enough to lean through the shattered glass and peered down at the second body, half covered in snow. Unlike Mrs. Gunderson, Jimmy’s outline was so far down I couldn’t be entirely certain it was him. I felt guilty not caring much that he was dead, only that he couldn’t help me.

Forcing myself once again to focus, I changed into fresh clothes that didn’t smell like I’d shit myself, and as quickly as I could, I ushered the kids back out to look for their dad. My hope to find him was depleted though, and I did all I could to hold myself together.

They needed someone, and unfortunately for them, I was all they had at the moment. I needed to be strong, for now at least. I had to do this for them.

When we reached their apartment, I knocked on the door. The last thing I needed was someone to shoot me, thinking I was sick. “Mr.—uh—Gunderson? Are you in there? I have Beau and Thea out here with me.”

I glanced down at them; both of their brows etched with hope and worry as they stared at the door, willing it to open. I jiggled the handle, uncertain if I was relieved to find it unlocked, or petrified.

“You guys should stay here until I say it’s okay. All right? We don’t know what’s inside.”

Thea and Beau had been so strong, but the anticipation was too much, and as their expressions began to crumble, their voices broke, and they began to cry. “Dad!” Beau called, and tears filled my eyes. “Are you in there, Daddy?”

Thea wiped at her eyes with little shaking hands, and I knew I needed to get this over with. Clenching my jaw, I crouched down, my vision blurring with tears of my own. “I know you’re scared,” I told them as delicately as I could. “But you have to stay out here, okay? We have to make sure your dad isn’t going to hurt you.” Like your mom did.

That was all Beau needed to hear, and he nodded and licked the tears from his lips.

I pointed to the wall. “Stand back over there until I say it’s safe.” I wasn’t sure having them see their father dead from the virus or not there at all was better or worse.

They leaned against the wall and slid down to sit beside one another and wait. I stared up at the ceiling. Please . . . Please let him be alive so they have someone left. A clawing sense of desperation to not be the one person they’d have left to rely on made it difficult to step inside.

When I opened the door, there was no more gray light of day, only lamplight from the side tables in the living room. It was sparsely decorated with a futon couch and a bookshelf in the corner, lined with plastic horse figurines and G.I. Joes. A fish tank was lit in the back corner by the window, and a large flat screen TV hung on the far wall.

The apartment smelled like maple syrup and dish soap, and the kitchen was cluttered with a few dirty dishes in the sink. Hand-drawn artwork was stuck to the fridge, and a large chore calendar hung on the wall between the counter and the refrigerator, golden stars filling nearly every day.

I had a fifty-fifty chance their dad was here and not in the gym, likely dead given the silence, and I had three rooms to figure it out.

Wanting to get it over with, I poked my head into the first room, knowing instantly it was Thea’s. Her pink bedspread was pulled back and a barf bowl, filled with vomit that reeked as it hit my nostrils, sat on the beige carpet beside it. Like the rest of the building, their apartment was sweltering hot, and I nearly gagged as I pulled the door shut.

Blinking the burn from my eyes, I turned to the next room. It was Beau’s, and the walls were cluttered with sports posters, and Army figurines scattered across the floor.

The power flickered on and off, and I stared up at the hall light, praying it would give me a few seconds longer. There was one last room to check, and I clung to all the willpower that remained as I nudged open the final bedroom door.

There was no body on the unmade bed. I swallowed thickly and stepped further in. I didn’t see a body on the floor, either. But there was blood, almost like footprints in a chaotic pattern near the mirrored closet door. I saw a flash of red in the bathroom and squeezed my fist closed.

Trying not to prolong the inevitable, I strode over and peered into the bathroom. I swallowed thickly. Shards of glass covered the ground, blood pooled and streaked against the white laminate, and the entire mirror was smashed to pieces.

Vomit and blood. Why did it have to be vomit and blood? I pushed thoughts of my mother away as the lights flickered again.

There was no body, and as every bloody memory I ever had came blaring back to life, it pushed me too far to the edge, and I fell backward.

The day I found my mother had been the day everything changed—the day I lost the one person who I’d wanted to love me unconditionally to an overdose or suicide, whichever it had been. Regardless, I’d meant nothing to her, definitely not as much as him. My sister was gone, my grandma and horrible uncle were gone too. My entire existence felt tainted. I was discarded. I was alone.

I didn’t know what happened to Mr. Gunderson, but I knew it was something awful, and I couldn’t stay in the apartment a second longer.

“He’s not here,” I called, rushing out the door. “He’s not here, and we have to go.”

“Where are we going?” Thea huffed, and she sniffled behind me. “Where’s my daddy?”

I shook my head because I had no idea. I didn’t know where we were going or where their father was, but I needed air.

I smacked my hand against the elevator button, praying it still worked. I had no idea what had happened inside, but there was more blood than I was comfortable with, and the three of us opted for the stairs up, until now.

The elevator button glowed red when I pushed it, but it wouldn’t come fast enough. I needed to know if we were the only ones left, and the tenth floor was my last hope.

Finally, the doors opened, and I ignored the splatter marring the elevator walls; it was easier this time after what I’d seen in the bathroom, only minimal in comparison.

Beau and Thea hurried in behind me. “Come on, Thea,” Beau quipped. “Keep up. And close your eyes.”

As the elevator doors dinged to close us inside, I stared at the buttons. The tenth floor.

“Sophie,” I breathed. She was the only other person I knew. I leaned my head against the elevator door and squeezed my eyes shut as I pressed the button for the last apartment floor. I didn’t know what I would do if she wasn’t there—or if I found her dead too.

Please be alive. I let the tears drip from my eyes and splash onto the elevator floor. Please be alive.

“Alex . . .” Thea whispered.

“I just—I need a minute of silence, okay?” I told them, trying to keep my calm. “I need to think.” The bodies in the gymnasium. The scent of death. The blood. I needed it to be a dream. I needed it all to be a horrible dream.

If Sophie was dead too, we’d have to leave. We’d go somewhere, we’d stay off the grid until we knew what was going on—I’d figure something out. I tried to ignore the practical questions, like where we would go and how we would get there. I might’ve been a delinquent teen in the court’s eyes, but I was resourceful if nothing else. I’d figure it out. I always did. But I could use a teensy-weensy break.

The elevator doors opened, and Beau and Thea blinked at me, waiting for me to lead the way. Forcing myself to keep it together—telling myself I couldn’t help Kayla but I could help them—I wiped the tears from my eyes with my long sleeve and nodded. “Let’s go.”

The three of us stepped into the hallway, but I didn’t know which apartment was Sophie’s or which way to go.

I peered to the right and the left, hating that I always had to choose a damn hallway; there was never anything good on either side. I noticed two open doorways at the end of the right wing, and slowly, I started toward them.

Please be alive. Please be alive. Please be alive . . .

Beau and Thea’s footsteps were quiet behind mine, and they were likely holding their breath, like I was. Their jackets whooshed in the silence as they brushed against one another, and I was acutely aware of the breakdown I would likely have once I discovered the kids and I were all that was truly left in this place.

We hadn’t taken a dozen steps before I heard someone crying inside one of the apartments.

I froze. Licked my lips. Dared to hope. And I dragged in a breath. “Sophie?” My voice was firm and more certain than I felt in the quiet hall, but the soft mewing cries stopped.

I held my breath.

Thea slid her hand into mine, and I peered down at her. Her eyes were glued to the open doorway as she squeezed my hand.

I squeezed hers back gently, grateful to have the two kids, at least.

When I glanced up, Sophie stood like an angel on the threshold, her face swollen and red with grief. And she was frowning at me. “Alex?”

All I could do was stare at her, blinking and praying she was real.

She took a step closer and her chest began to heave. Her lips moved, like maybe she wanted to say something, but her eyes clouded with tears as she began to walk closer. “I thought everyone was dead.”

“Me too.” I thought I might’ve laughed with relief, but it was a sob, and in that moment Sophie ran toward me. Her arms were around my neck, clutching hold of me. “I can’t believe you’re alive,” she cried into my chest.

Faintly, a distant voice told me I shouldn’t be so relieved she was alive, I barely knew her. And yet, relief was all I could feel—and comfort that I wasn’t alone. It was more intense than I thought possible, more desperate, like the reassurance of her and I combined was humming through me, and it was all I could feel.

I tried to say something, but my voice caught in my throat. Closing my eyes, I inhaled the scent of her. She didn’t smell like clean linen anymore, but she was real and breathing. I tightened my arms around her, relishing the feel of a warm body. A familiar face. A living person.

“I’m really glad to see you.” My words were barely a breath—a ragged inhale and clipped sob. I’d never been so happy to see anyone in my entire life, and in that moment, it felt like everything might actually be okay.

With a sniffle, Sophie pulled away, and with her went my heightened sense of relief, like it retreated with the warmth of her body as she took a step back.

I cleared my throat and wiped my eyes, remembering Beau and Thea standing uncertain behind me. “When I saw the blood in the elevator,” I started, but Sophie quickly shook her head.

“It’s JJ’s.”

I frowned, uncertain who that was, just overwhelmingly glad it wasn’t Sophie’s.

“Her sister came to find her.” She glanced at the apartment door at the end of the hall. The sympathy on Sophie’s face, and the blood on the carpet and in the elevator, explained the rest.

“It’s just the five of us then,” I said.

Sophie dipped her head. “Yeah.” Her voice was so quiet I barely heard the words, and she glanced up at me with glistening blue eyes. I wasn’t sure what the past couple of days had been like for her, but if they were remotely like mine, it was as close as she’d probably been to hell.

“For now,” I added, more reassuring than certain, and I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath. “We’ll figure this out.”

Whether Sophie believed me or just hoped it was true, she seemed to cling to the words, and pursed her lips with a nod, trying to be strong. “We’ll figure this out,” she repeated. “Together.”

THE END

If you enjoyed The Longest Night, I would be forever grateful if you’d take a moment to leave a book review. They are so important to indie authors like me.

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For my rock star, word-wielding posse…

To my beta readers:

Holly – you’re a salve to my questionable sanity.

How did I ever get on without you?

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I’ll never look at popcorn the same way again.

Katelyn, Jennifer, Michelle, Ana, Fred, Gretchen, Kathy, and Jessica – you’ve helped me weave hundreds of thousands of words into magic for readers all over the world. Thank you.

* * *

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Lauren – you’re more than an editor, you’re a wonderful friend and human. You treat each of my books as if they were your own, and I couldn’t imagine this journey without you.

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This series is epic because of each and every one of you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Xoxo, Linds

Prologue

Elle

“Everything is flourishing in this area right now,” Stanley said, scratching his cheek as he surveyed the covered side yard outside the first cellblock. “I hate to move it all.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, a tick of his I’d come to notice when he was either deep in thought or nervous.

If I’d been told a year ago that my life would be so completely altered now, I wouldn’t have believed it. But here I was, inspecting a makeshift greenhouse in the walls of a state-of-the-art prison—our fortress and second home. It had taken months for all of us to get to know one another, especially since our first meeting with the prison crew had been Sophie and me locked in a jail cell here at the prison against our will.

All of that was sorted now, though, and despite the time it had taken us to get to know one another’s quirks, it had only taken weeks for us to learn to trust one another, especially when we shared a common threat: General Herodson.

“Do you think I have to?” Stanley asked.

I bent down to test the moisture in the soil, admiring Stanley’s hard work. The beanstalks and tomatoes inundated the northern corner after weeks of trial and error, looking for just the right spot. I wasn’t sure if it was Stanley’s patience, or if he had a green thumb, but he was a much better gardener than Woody, despite his many failed attempts over the summer. But then, Woody was so scatterbrained, I wasn’t all that surprised.

The place was silent without him, without them. I’d told myself I wouldn’t dwell on Jackson being gone, even if it was lonely without him. He’d become my other half, the warm body beside me in bed, and my daily reassurance that what we were doing, that all we’d accomplished, was right. I wished he’d come home.

“Elle?” Ross prompted, and when I looked up, I realized he and Stanley were both staring at me. “I assume we should move it,” he said, “but I’m not the head landscaper around this joint,” he joked.

“Oh, sorry.” I looked at Stanley with a quick nod. “Yes, as frustrating as it is, when the time comes, I think the garden should be moved indoors. Unless we want to turn this old workout area into a greenhouse, like ours at the farm. Then you’ll be able to plant here year-round—”

“Elle!”

I froze as a voice cried my name, and a cold chill trickled down my back. I glanced around the side yard.

“Elle?” Ross’s voice held the same concern that made the hair on my arms and neck stand on end. “Are you okay? I swear your skin just turned ten shades paler.” He shifted the rifle hanging over his shoulder and leaned closer.

“I—” I swallowed thickly. “I could’ve sworn I heard someone call my name.”

Stanley and Ross looked at one another. “Perhaps you should sit down, Miss Elle,” said Stanley, but I shook my head as they began to fuss over me, and I pushed Ross’s hand away. “Something’s wrong,” I told them, even if I didn’t understand it. “There was a voice . . . in my head—it said my name.” My heart began to pound in my chest, and I tried to catch my breath. It made no sense. I’d never heard anyone’s voice in my head, and somehow it seemed familiar . . . and urgent.

“Miss Elle, sit down for a moment,” Stanley insisted.

“Elle, hurry!”

I whipped around frantically searching for the voice, though I knew it was for naught. “Hurry? What—where?”

“Elle, you’re scaring the shit out of me,” Ross chided. “Jackson will kill me if you lose your mind while he’s gone.”

I clutched his arm, my fingers pressing into his flesh as I tried to convince myself I wasn’t crazy, and how somewhere deep down I knew it was somehow linked to the kids. “Something’s wrong.”

Without another second of hesitation, I reached for my pistol, holstered on my hip, and ran through the side yard toward the truck.

As Thea and Sophie’s faces flashed to mind, my fear and dread were dwarfed by a sudden ferocity I’d never felt and the resolve to get to them. “Hurry up!” I shouted, but Ross and Stanley’s frantic footsteps and my voice were barely audible as every flame-enveloped nerve inside me turned cold with deadly determination. If someone hurt them, I would set their world aflame.

Part I

A year earlier

August

1

Sophie

“Where was she, RV-01?” the General demanded, eerily calm. He clasped his hands behind his back, a telltale sign he wasn’t pleased, and turned away from the young woman.

I saw it all through Stanley’s mind as clearly as if it was my own. He was General Herodson’s Truth Guard, after all, part of an entourage that was never to leave the General’s side. I, or Stanley, rather, was there for the sole purpose of confirming RV-01 was telling the truth.

Despite whichever words followed, I knew the General had already made up his mind to do something terrible.

Herodson leaned against his cluttered desk. “She was in your charge—I gave you very specific orders.” Even if I didn’t know the missing Re-gen’s purpose, I knew the General had one intended for her—he had a purpose for everyone at the Colony, a designated role in his capital of the New United States. His word was law, which was why he was so displeased with RV-01.

The Re-gen’s eyes lowered with shame. “Yes, Father. I know I have let you down.”

“Yes, you have.”

“She was in the cafeteria. CL-01 is new,” she said, and drew in a slow breath, devoid of much apprehension because the poor girl had no idea what was coming next. “She did not understand why she must wait. I was only in the restroom a few minutes. I do not know why she left.”

Every robotic word was a reminder of all that he’d done to her, and it had taken me weeks to get used to the way the reanimated humans spoke after they were brought back to life. Their minds were wiped clean. Their knowledge of the world was only what the General—their “father”—allowed it to be during programming. Their Abilities were what was important, not “pesky memories,” as the General had called them. Memories led to feelings, which led to independent thoughts, and the last thing Herodson wanted was a Spartacus situation.

The General looked at me for confirmation that RV-01 was being truthful.

I dipped my chin. Of course the poor creature was telling the truth, she knew nothing different, but in this, her naivety might get her killed, again.

“Interesting,” the General mused, and he sat down in his leather desk chair, calm and collected as always. I saw the glint of satisfaction of what was to come in his cold, gray eyes.

“I will speak with her, Father. I will determine the right course of action—”

“No, you won’t. Your carelessness is unacceptable. Grant!” he called, not sparing her another glance.

The door opened and I held my breath, my stomach churning as bile rose in my throat. “Sir?” Grant’s angled features were hard-set and determined.

“Take RV-01 to the interrogation room,” he said so nonchalantly, chills rolled down my spine. “Make sure she realizes how important my orders are and what happens when they’re not obeyed.”

“Father—” RV-01 stepped forward. “I will—”

“No,” he said, his voice flat. He finally looked at her. “And never let this happen again. I won’t be as kind next time.” Then he glanced at me, as if her punishment was also to serve as a reminder of what would happen to me if I were ever to disobey him. The General’s gaze flicked to Grant. “If she struggles, do it again.”

The guard obediently gathered the Re-gen’s hands behind her back with more force than was necessary.

Words locked up in my throat, my tongue a rutted stone in my mouth. I wanted to beg for his forgiveness on the Re-gen’s behalf, but I was too much of a coward; I didn’t want her fate to become my own, and I turned on my heels and followed Grant toward the interrogation room.

As the three of us made our way down the vacant hallway, I wasn’t sure which was worse: the ominous sound of our footsteps or the fact that RV-01 put up no struggle at all. Re-gens no longer had previous life experiences to draw from, I knew that much, but they still felt fear, didn’t they? They still had to have feelings, even if they couldn’t understand them.

Clearing my throat, I clasped my hands behind my back and followed Grant and RV-01 to the door of the cement room that housed the worst atrocities committed in the Colony. Despite my internal panic, I could not let such things show—the General could not know my allegiance wavered, or I would be interrogated instead of the Re-gen.

The door swung open before Grant could reach for the handle, and Dr. Wesley stepped out. Her striking, teal eyes narrowed imperceptibly.

“Doctor,” I said in greeting, and Grant and I both nodded politely. If General Herodson was the father of the New United States, Dr. Wesley was the mother, and there was a flash of uneasiness in her eyes when they locked on RV-01, her first successful child in the new world she and her husband were creating.

For a fleeting moment, I thought the doctor might demand the girl be let go. Instead, Dr. Wesley stepped out of the way. “As you were,” she said, and without another moment’s pause, she walked past us and disappeared down the hall, leaving Grant and me alone with the Re-gen.

My gaze didn’t settle on the vials, utensils, and syringes set up along the counter and surrounding carts, but on the giant tub of water beside the long, wooden table in the center of the room.

My palms were slick and my hands knotted behind my back as I tried to keep myself from having any sort of visible reaction.

RV-01 didn’t fight Grant as he shoved her onto the table. “Lay down,” he ordered. “And rest assured, if you were lying to the General in there, I will get the truth out of you.”

“She wasn’t lying,” I reassured him, but Grant ignored me because Grant didn’t care what was true or humane. He was Herodson’s enforcer, and all he cared about was what the General willed him to do with his mind control, which was to punish.

Grant restrained RV-01’s feet first, then strapped her arms at her side before the hydraulic mechanism in the table clicked on and hummed to life. It was only seconds—painstakingly slow, horrific seconds—before she was tilted downward, her feet angled above her head. She lay there completely lifeless and compliant as Grant draped a square linen cloth over her face and tucked it under her head. Then, he lifted a pitcher of water from the water barrel and began to pour.

As abhorrent as it was, I couldn’t look away. The Re-gen gasped for air as the water splashed over her face, one pitcher after another. The gurgling. The choking. Her body thrashed as she gasped for air. I could feel my lungs constricting in my chest, pulling for the air she couldn’t breathe. She was drowning.

“That’s enough!” I said, and took a step forward. “You’ll kill her if you don’t let her breathe.”

Grant’s soulless eyes cut straight through me with a sneer. “What was that, Stanley?” he taunted.

“I said that’s enough. She’s learned her lesson, I’m sure.”

His shoulders straightened and he popped his neck, like the monster inside him was so close to the surface he had to force what human parts of him were left back into place. “Are you suggesting I defy the General’s orders?”

“No, you’ve done what he asked. She’s not struggling against you, she’s choking.”

“Do you want me to tell Herodson you’re not letting me do my job, Stanley?” He bit out my name like I was one of his many playthings he was allowed to torment.

Forcing myself to remain calm, I narrowed my eyes at him. “He’ll be displeased if you kill her.”

Grant glanced down at the Re-gen as she drew in one lungful of air after the other in her reprieve. He considered stopping, but then he grinned and picked up the pitcher again.

“Just once more.”

My eyes flashed open and I gasped, trying to catch my breath. Despite the cool air that bit at my nose, my body was drenched in sweat, and I pulled air into my lungs like it wouldn’t reach deep enough.

Blinking, I stared above me and licked my lips. I’m okay . . . My tumbling heartbeat proved it.

I was in the tent; its blue nylon top arched a few feet above me. We’re camping. Everything is fine. It was the first hunting trip I’d been on in the three months since we’d decided to settle in Whitehorse for good, and the clawing fear—General Herodson, the destroyer of humanity himself—was only a dream. For now.

But that wasn’t completely true. They weren’t just dreams, they were bits of memories that burrowed their way into the cracks of my mind, wriggling around until they found their way out again, and I shuddered.

Shutting my eyes, I let out a steadying breath and brought my hand to my forehead.

We all knew that as long as the man behind the world-ravaging virus breathed, none of us would ever be safe. It hadn’t been an accident or natural selection, but part of a tyrant’s lifelong plan to create the world as he wanted it.

The lengths the General had gone to in order to implement the first phase of his plan were decades in the making, but it was the second part of his plan—the unknown—that scared us most. If there was anything I’d learned about Gregory Herodson through Stanley’s memories, it was that the General had a plan and a purpose for everything he did, only we weren’t certain yet how survivors and their Abilities fit into his plans now.

Since meeting Woody, Stanley, and Phil, all that we’d learned about the General and the Virus lingered in the everyday, in every shadow. Unlike the rest of them, though, I knew the dullness of Herodson’s eyes. I knew the harsh reserve of his tone and his constant displeasure. Through Stanley, I knew more than the nuances of the Virus; I knew every inhumane, unthinkable step General Herodson had taken to make his vision a reality, and it was terrifying. But unlike me, Stanley didn’t have the luxury of waking up from the nightmares, because the memories were his to bear, and I pitied him for that.

With another steadying breath, I turned my head to ensure the others were still asleep on their pallets beside me. Phil snored softly on the other side of the tent, his sleeping bag pulled over his face. Jackson wasn’t on the pallet beside him, and when I looked at Beau, his eyes were open, heavy with sleep as he blinked lazily at me.

“Did I wake you up?” I whispered with an apologetic smile. It was hard to tell what I’d said in my dreams.

Beau bowed his head slightly. “Are you okay?” His voice cracked from disuse.

I pulled his sleeping bag further up around his neck to keep him warm in the chilly air, and ran my hand softly through his hair. “Yes. I’m fine. I promise. It was just a bad dream. Go back to sleep, okay?” Beau might not have believed me, but his eyelids won out, and they flitted closed again.

Sitting up, I listened for movement outside the tent. Owls hooted from somewhere up in the trees surrounding us, and leaves rustled in the breeze. Then I heard the quiet crackling of embers, and I imagined Jackson outside, stoking the early morning fire.

I unzipped my bag, and let out a deep breath. Having slept in my clothes, I was already dressed, and I climbed to my feet.

I’d never been a country girl, but things changed pretty fast when you lived in the Yukon. Giant prehistoric-looking insects, dirty hair, cuts, and bruises were all part of life now, and even if I would never come to terms with what I could only assume were alien spiders the size of my palm, I was adjusting well enough to the rest. I had to.

Hunched over in the tent’s confinement, I unzipped the door and met Jackson’s gaze across the fire. His elbows rested on his knees as he poked at the embers, eyeing me carefully. His beard made his dark features appear ominous in the predawn light, but I knew better.

I stepped out into the frigid morning as discreetly as I could, careful not to step on Luna’s black tail as the wolf lay curled up beside the tent, keeping watch over her human. She and Beau had become inseparable.

I closed Phil and Beau back up inside the tent to get another hour or so of sleep, and pulled my boots on, leaving the laces untied.

“Dreams again?” Jackson said, his voice low. He could be a formidable presence when he wanted to be, but beneath Jackson’s dependable protectiveness, he was a teddy bear. “Yes,” I admitted.

He glanced at the percolator sitting beside the fire. “There’s enough coffee for one more cup,” he offered. If the pot was nearly empty, it meant he’d been up for a while already.

I walked around the fire to where he sat on a fallen log. I didn’t talk about my dreams with anyone other than Stanley most of the time, because unlike everyone else, he’d seen what I’d seen. He lived through what the others had only heard about. And, sometimes, I confided in Phil because he was easy to talk to and be around. He didn’t have a past he wanted to forget about like Alex did. In fact, Phil wanted to remember everything—his mother and sister who he’d been vacationing with in Whitehorse, and everything about his life before the Virus. If anything, he wanted to learn from it all. He wanted to grow and was determined to be stronger and ready for next time, like me.

I sat down beside Jackson, keeping a couple of feet between us. A buffer was something I always built in these days. That way, everyone else didn’t have to, and it was just easier. Though my ability to open and close the memory floodgates had grown a little stronger in the past few months, thanks to Stanley helping me practice, accidental transference in this case was more than a smudge on a piece of paper. It was more like an incriminating fingerprint people didn’t want to leave behind—the world the way they experienced it and all the thoughts and feelings that went along with it.

“Is it weird to be homesick?” I asked, since we had only been away from the others a couple of days. Without Beau and Thea’s bickering, Alex’s warm laughter, and Elle’s endless tasks of things to do around the lodge, my mind wandered more than I liked it to.

“No,” Jackson said with a small smile. “It’s not weird at all.” He had bad dreams too. They were different, though, and filled with monsters of his own making. He dreamed of his dead wife, Hannah, and baby Molly, which left him with a hearty dose of survivor’s guilt each and every time. I knew part of him yearned for his life before and that he wondered how different things would be if Hannah had lived, but he was also happy in the life he had with us now, and he was in love with Elle. For him, that was sometimes the hardest part.

I stared at Jackson’s profile as he gazed into the fire.

“They were about the General,” I told him, looking into the flames. “My dreams.”

Jackson, in his stoic silence, simply listened.

“When I ignore how I know about the General and what I’ve seen, and I forget about what I can do—what all of us can do—it still doesn’t feel real, you know? It’s more like a movie, or a nightmare. But not real . . . It’s too horrifying to be real.”

“Yeah, I know. I have a feeling it’ll be a while yet before we can breathe easily.”

With a groan, I leaned forward. “I never thought I’d say this, but . . . sometimes I actually miss things like homework and being grounded.” Although it was a joke, it almost wasn’t. If I were grounded, it would mean that my mom was still alive. “I guess I’d have graduated high school by now though,” I mused. “I might have hated college homework.”

With an amused sigh, Jackson poked at the fire again, and in our silence, I thought about Alex’s first day of school. It was still surreal to think that the moment I saw him for the first time, I had no idea what our lives would be eight months later.

“Why didn’t Alex come with us?” I asked, wondering if Jackson would give me a straight answer. It wasn’t that I followed Alex around like a lovesick puppy dog or anything, but I’d definitely looked forward to spending time with him away from the house. It felt like we barely saw each other anymore, and I hated it.

“He said he wanted to finish the barn before it rained again.”

“Oh.” But I couldn’t help but think the only reason he changed his mind about coming was because I’d decided to go on the trip too. Since the day we both discovered we’d survived the Virus, we’d gone from best friends to somewhat estranged—which I took full responsibility for when I thought I was losing my mind in Slana—back to sort-of-friends, even though he claimed he could deal with my Ability. Sure, he still laughed and joked with me sometimes, but it was different. Everything about us was different.

I could feel Jackson’s eyes on me, but he didn’t say anything, and I appreciated it. I was pretty sure everyone, including Alex, knew how I felt about him, even if I’d only recently admitted it to myself.

I’d always been drawn to Alex, but how I felt about him was more than intrigue now. It was admiration when I saw him with Beau and Thea, so kind and fun and gentle. It was how hard he and Jackson worked to make sure we were all as safe as we could possibly be. It was what I felt when I touched him, the physical, primal feeling that tingled in my fingertips and made me warm with a comfort I’d never felt before—like Alex was part of me.

I cleared my throat and held my palms to the flames. Alex wanted his privacy, and I got that—I even understood it—but each time I tried to hand him something, he hesitated to touch me. When we walked side by side, it was with a measurable distance between us, when all I wanted was to take a step closer. And the few times we did happen to touch, and Alex felt the connection between us like I did, he would pull away like it was unbearable. Talk about an ego deflator.

“It seems like it’s been a lifetime since Anchorage, like I should be used to how fictional life feels by now,” I thought aloud.

“You mean, humans talking to animals, and turning themselves into flames is still strange to you?” Jackson nudged me, and his mouth lifted in the corner.

“I know,” I said, shoving my hands into my sweater pockets. “Call me crazy.” I peered up at the sky, washed in a cloudless blue haze. Crazy was exactly how I felt sometimes.

Feeling emotions that aren’t my own—check.

Seeing memories that belong to someone else—check, check.

That Alex could amplify them with his Ability seemed . . . like a cruel joke, because the one person I wanted to be closer to pushed me further away.

I’d never been one of those girls who planned her future wedding to her dreamy, Ken doll look-alike husband, or imagined our perfect lives together with a white picket fence, driving our one-point-five kids to soccer practice, and making Christmas cookies. It might’ve been because my mother and father’s relationship had always been loveless. I didn’t believe in soulmates, or put much faith in destiny either. Somehow though, meeting Alex felt fated, and I blamed my jumbled, Ability-infused brain on that inexplicable feeling.

The day we met, I knew something was different about him. I was drawn to his bad boy exterior, even if that’s not at all who he was anymore. The unexpected kindness of him buying me a pregnancy test and keeping my secret only reinforced those feelings. But it was after the Virus, when I saw him standing in the hallway outside my apartment in Whitely, like he was my own personal miracle come to save me, that I felt something humming between us the moment we touched.

“Do you believe in fate, Jackson?”

He leaned forward and poured the rest of the coffee into his mug. “I don’t know,” he said, thoughtful.

“I know it’s a little early in the morning to be getting so deep, but I have to wonder if there’s a reason why we found you at the bus depot, a reason you took us in even though you didn’t want to.”

“You’re right, that is a little deep. The sun isn’t even up yet.”

“Humor me,” I said.

Jackson straightened and took a swig from his copper cup. “It’s hard not to believe in something like fate,” he said, more quickly than I’d expected, like he’d thought about it before. “My life would be much different without having met you guys. I’m not sure I’d even be alive right now, to tell you the truth.”

“Same,” I breathed. “If we hadn’t met Elle.” Alex had promised me we’d figure things out, and maybe we would have, but without Elle, who knew what we would have decided to do. And what about Beau and Thea?

“My mother believed in destiny,” he added. “But in the stories she told me of her people, man made his destiny through his own choices, and he would be rewarded based on the worth of his soul.” He pointed to the whimsical Haida tattoos I knew were beneath his lightweight jacket. “They are symbols meant to protect me, and remind me of the man I want to be.”

I imagined the black and red mural on his arm—the moon on his shoulder, the guardian of the earth; the wolf, which embodied strength and family; and the sun, which represented the peace Jackson was still searching for below it. It all seemed too perfect to chalk up to coincidence.

“If you hadn’t been a trooper, you never would’ve been by the bus depot either, getting those maps for your trip here,” I realized. And it was in that moment that I knew Alex and I were definitely fated in some way, something I think he knew at some level too.

“I’m scared,” I heard myself say, and fleetingly, I understood how Alex might be afraid to hope for something good. “I know he’s far away, but what if General Herodson or his goons really do come for the rest of us survivors? What if everything we’ve been working on has been for nothing? What if there’s nothing we can do?”

Slowly, Jackson’s eyes shifted to mine. “If he comes, we’ll be ready, Sophie. I can promise you that.”

2

Elle

The sun was hot against the back of my neck, pouring through the exposed beams of the unfinished greenhouse, half built a dozen yards from the south side of the lodge. Even though the greenhouse still needed a roof, windows, and a door that closed, I’d started planting the vegetation that would hopefully root and thrive there, even in the changing seasons. When the ground froze and the wilderness around us went dormant, we’d still have this protected place to grow currants, perfect for pectin and jam making; keep the citronella alive for next summer’s mosquito infestation, which we’d come to rely on daily; and we’d have lettuce and potatoes through the winter.

I packed the dirt in around a blueberry stalk, the moist, rich earth staining the beds of my fingernails as I thought about the past eight months. It had been a perfect, terrifying storm—first the outbreak and death, then mad men and a grueling winter, and yet somehow, we’d endured it all.

I wasn’t sure if General Herodson cared at all that we’d survived, or if he was coming to collect us for his Colony. The only thing that mattered now was being as prepared as we could if he tried to, and the days I thought too much about it, were the nights I couldn’t sleep either. Those were the nights everything we still needed to do to outlast the harsh winter, holed up and hidden away, kept me up until the sun peeked over the ridge. It didn’t feel like we had enough time to do it all before the first snowfall, despite how many hands and Abilities we had at our disposal; the more people we had, the more preparations we needed to make, and the list went on and on.

If it hadn’t been for Woody’s experience with the General decades ago, which we were all still a bit in the dark about, and Stanley’s life at the Colony up until the Re-gen Rebellion, I’m not sure I’d believe what I now knew, even if I was living proof of it each and every day. I’m not sure I’d be half as worried either, and briefly I wondered if that wouldn’t be preferable.

I stared down at my dirty fingers, my blood practically molten beneath my skin. Every time I began to second-guess the impossible stories about the General, I thought about the fire inside and what I could do now. I thought about Woody and Stanley, both of them experiments in the General’s Great Transformation. And I thought about the horror on Sophie’s face on the days she’d seen too much from Stanley’s memories, and the tears in her eyes the nights she woke from her nightmares.

I wiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand, feeling bits of soil stick to my skin. It had only been three months since we’d all come together, something I had to keep reminding myself. We were all still trying to figure things out. Sophie would too, in time.

I glanced out the framed but glassless windows, toward the barn. Like many projects, the greenhouse was only partially finished. We were behind, according to my timeline, and there was still so much to do as the long days of summer continued ticking by. We’ll get it done, in time, I reminded myself again.

Blowing out a sigh, I poured a few ounces of well water into the freshly potted shrub and slid it against the wall with the others. Then, I started scooping soil into the next pot. I tried to focus on the scent of sunshine and warm earth. I listened to the ravens in the treetops and the rustling of spruce tips in the breeze, but no matter what I did, there was the incessant tick-tock in the back of my mind, telling me to plant faster and move on to the next project.

I stuck another shrub root into the pot and packed the dirt around it, like the last one. Planting was easy and mindless, in a way. It was planning for the unknown that seemed to be an endless rabbit hole of uncertainty. There was still the matter of protecting ourselves against superhuman forces to consider, if it ever came to it. While Phil was able to tell which Abilities people had, but it wouldn’t save him or us if Woody wasn’t around to block the dangerous ones, and we couldn’t rely solely on their presence to save us.

Luckily, we still had electricity, thanks to the Whitehorse hydro power plant, powered by the Yukon River, which meant we had a fully-functioning prison in Whitehorse, if we needed it. Operating on the pretense that the more barriers we had between crazy Ability-wielders and us the better, Jackson and Ross led the prison reinforcement project. Sometimes Thea helped when they needed a little extra brawn to move things around.

Mostly, I led scavenging trips throughout Whitehorse—into homes, stores, and businesses—and worked around the lodge. We needed enough food and storage to get eleven people through the winter, and to ensure we would be self-sustaining by the end of fall. Most of the food that had been frozen since the outbreak was at our disposal, save for the dwindling supply of boxed and bagged food, feasted on by rodents, and the domesticated pets and livestock, most of which had starved to death or died in the cold.

With so many of us, we’d need a lot of meat on hand, and would have to grow plenty of vegetables. So, Jackson hunted, I planted, and having an abundance of both meant enough fat and oil for us to make biodiesel, in case we needed to get out in an emergency.

For everything else, we went foraging for berries and fireweed to make jams and jellies, and scavenged for machine parts to keep our vehicles and snowmobiles running when the roads were too thick with snow. There were supplies we’d learned from experience were crucial to surviving the winter, like candles, games, woolen socks, and lip balm—one of the most important items, according to Sophie.

Bert worked tirelessly to retrofit the vehicles with biodiesel for when the fuel was outdated and useless, snowmobiles and ATVs included. Like Woody, Bert was a colorful addition to our group. Ross had said that Bert was more than a drunk on a couch the night we’d met them, and Ross had been right. It wasn’t only Bert’s engineering background that made him crucial to our progress. His Ability to make an engine rumble to life with a single touch—cranes, chainsaws, rusted old trucks blocking the road—had shaved days off of our projects. Keeping the engines going after he left, however, had proven a little more difficult for long periods of time, but that’s where Bert’s Ability ended and his brilliant mind began problem solving.

I pressed fresh earth around another blueberry stalk, and rocked back on my feet, my legs slick with sweat as I stood.

Days like this, when we were all separated and the property was too quiet, I grew even more restless. Maybe it was because Jackson was gone, and not just ten miles down the road, like usual. He was out in the wild unknown with Sophie and Beau, which left me on edge. Jackson was the most capable of all of us—with his knowledge of the wilderness, his trooper and survival training, and his Ability to sense trouble before it came—but that didn’t mean he was untouchable. Even if it had been a while since we’d had a run-in with any crazy people, it didn’t mean they weren’t out there.

I wiped the sweat from my brow again, glad we’d had a dry spell for the past week, and I peered down the hill at Alex and Ross, digging fence post holes and hammering cross beams for our soon-to-be pasture. One of our many goals was finding a couple of dairy cows, if we could be so fortunate, and a few chickens. We had three usable acres, and we had plans to use every single one of them. That was another item I needed to add to my list of things to do: find a book about caring for livestock. I’d worry about that when the time came.

Ross straightened from bending over a pile of two-by-fours and picked up a water jug from the ground. I hadn’t trusted him when I’d first met him. He’d been hiding something, even Jackson felt it, but that was before we knew what it was. Before Sophie had told me what she’d seen when she’d touched him.

He tipped his water jug back, chugged a few gulps, then he wiped his mouth with the back of his arm, freckled and pink like he’d gotten too much sun.

He was big like Jackson, not as tall, but just as strong, and I could easily imagine him in the Middle East, where I knew he’d spent most of his twenties with his brothers in arms. It was the way he carried himself, with a thoughtful, determined quietness that imbued awe and respect— just like his best friend.

I had difficulty imagining Ross before the outbreak; the Ross who was going to propose to “the one who got away” on Christmas before she got sick; the Ross who wanted to be a family man, like Jackson once dreamed of, and who’d lost his baby sister the day Jackson lost the love of his life.

My chest tightened thinking about her. I’d never known Hannah, but I’d seen a photo of her once in Ross’s house. I’d seen what she looked like standing beside Jackson, beautiful and smiling. I knew what he’d lost when she died, and somehow, it still felt raw, even to me.

I’d thought Sophie’s Ability to see and feel horrible, unwanted things was a harsh reality, but Ross had learned what dying felt like as it passed from Kelsey and into him as she died in his arms. He knew what awaited him in the end. And if that wasn’t enough to screw him up, his time in the infantry didn’t help.

“He spent six years in the army, and who knows how many people’s lives he’s taken. It haunted him before, so I hate to imagine what it does to him now, knowing what death actually feels like.” Jackson’s words were a constant echo, and even if I knew it wouldn’t keep the memories away, I didn’t blame Ross for disappearing to drown himself in beer and booze now and again.

Ross ran his hand over his cropped, red hair and set his water jug down as Thea trotted up to him. Her almond-colored pigtails swayed and she stopped beside him. “Look!” she chirped and showed him something in her tiny, cupped hand.

My heart warmed when Ross smiled at her. Thea and Jackson seemed to be the only ones who could make his face light up. I often wondered if her contagious goodness was a power she possessed over everyone, rather than a side effect of her curiosity and youth.

Ross pointed toward the greenhouse with a few muttered words, and with a hop and a skip, Thea skipped her way up the hill with a grin. She stopped as she drew closer to let a frog jump out of her hands and onto a birch tree, then she skipped around the greenhouse, like she didn’t have a care in the world.

“Elle,” she said and stopped in the open doorway. “I think I got bit again.” Her freckled face crumpled with pain as she scratched the red welt on the side of her left cheek, then she scratched her arm for effect.

Brushing my dirty hands off on my pants, I walked closer. “I think you did too.” I eyed the bites on her arms and legs. “I count five now. They must really like you.”

“Yeah, they do. I don’t think the citronella works.” She reached for her cheek again.

“Don’t scratch it,” I said, and pointed toward the house. “Let’s put some honey on it, okay?”

Thea nodded so happily I wondered if a bit of honey wasn’t her endgame from the beginning.

Taking her hand in mine, I led her across to the gravel path between the mudroom and the greenhouse.

“You have to leave the honey on the bite though, Thea,” I told her. “You can’t wipe it all off and eat it, like last time.” With a sideways glance, I opened the side door and nudged her into the house.

The mudroom was a slate tiled entry filled with dirty shoes and coats hanging from hooks so full, I was afraid if I brushed past them, they might all come tumbling down. Winter boots were discarded and long forgotten in the heat of the summer, and I stepped over them and up into the laundry room before entering the kitchen.

“All right, up on the table,” I said, letting go of Thea’s hand. I reached for one of the jars in the cupboard above the counter.

Like most rooms in the lodge, the kitchen was large, with modern white accents, and industrial chrome appliances fit for an elite, exclusive Yukon getaway. And luckily, there was a place for everything in the floor to ceiling cabinets. While Woody, Phil, and Stanley preferred to keep an eye on things at the prison, the rest of us stayed at the house most of the time, and when we were all together, we needed room and storage to accommodate us all.

“This will only help the swelling and itching if you leave it alone,” I warned her. “Capiche?”

Again, Thea nodded, but my hopes weren’t very high. She felt the need to push any bruise she saw, pick any scab she had, and itch anything that needed a good scratch. “We’ll stick some cedar bark in your pockets this time, for good measure.” Though I was teasing, I’d decided it was worth a try. The mosquitoes preferred Thea and Alex’s blood the most, though we’d all grown used to finding a few new bites by the end of the day, despite our best efforts to repel them.

Unscrewing the top of the honey jar, I stuck a Popsicle stick inside and wound a string of honey around it before spreading a smidgen of it on Thea’s bite. She wiped a bit of honey from the rim of the jar with her index finger and snuck it into her mouth. Her eyes held mine the entire time, waiting for a reaction.

I only lifted an eyebrow. “I’m glad we have three jars of that,” I muttered. The good thing about being the only group living in Whitehorse was that the city was well stocked with most of what we needed, the non-perishables anyway, and honey was one of Thea’s guilty pleasures. She’d been known to make herself sick a time or two, that’s when I’d learned that blanketed yes or no answers didn’t work with a six-year-old—if she asked to have a little bit of honey, I had to quantify exactly how much she could have or she’d go wild.

“When will they be home?” Thea asked as she stuck her finger in her mouth to suck off the final bit of sweetness. They meant Jackson, Sophie, Beau, and Phil.

“Tonight, I hope. If they can get a moose today.” We needed at least one more if we were going to have enough meat stored for our winter food reserve, and they’d already been gone nearly two days.

I felt an aching void when Jackson was away—an unease. Even if our relationship was relatively new, it also felt like ages had passed since we’d arrived, Woody had kidnapped me and Sophie, and everything just . . . changed. Life sped up and the days were filled with so many to-dos, it was like Jackson and I barely saw one another. Our nights, though, were precious, and when the house was silent and everyone had gone to bed, we could finally just . . . be. I’d grown so used to him sleeping in bed beside me, that when he was gone, I missed his strong arms around me, and his whiskers tickling the side of my face and neck. I treasured the moments the ghosts of his past abandoned him and he allowed himself to let go and be playful with me.

Thea’s tummy rumbled, and I glanced at the clock. “Oh, shit. It’s late.”

“You said a curse word,” Thea pointed out. “You have to cook again.”

My shoulders slumped. She was right, and cooking in a house that fed so many people was the worst punishment. I was still horrible at it.

“All right, fine.” I grabbed the wet sponge from the sink to wipe the counter down. “But it is late. Do you want a snack—a real one?”

“No thank you, I’ll just eat honey.”

“I’m sure you would, gladly,” I said, and dipped the popsicle stick into the jar a final time, and wound another bit of honey on the tip for her. “This is all you get. It’s nearly nine and I’m going to make something quick for dinner.” Accidental late dinners seemed to be a natural occurrence and byproduct of the midnight sun—early to rise, late to set.

Thea reached for the honey stick, and I pulled my hand away. “First, recite the rules, please.”

“Eat it outside,” she recited with a huff. “And don’t touch anything, not even the door handle.”

“Until?”

“Until I wash my hands, because of the ginormous ants.” She groaned.

With a satisfied nod, I handed the stick over to her and pointed to the living room. “I’ll open the screen door for you, and you can eat it outside while I make some real food to eat.”

Thea headed for the sliding door to the wraparound deck. I opened the screen, it squeaking in protest, and I made a mental note to oil it later.

Fingers and mouth already sticky, Thea bounced out onto the deck and over to sit on the steps, happily content.

“How is it?” I asked her as she stared and licked at the Popsicle stick with complete focus.

“Amazing.” She licked the honey off the side of her hand.

“Good,” I said through a chuckle. In a different kind of world, Beau wouldn’t be out hunting, and the two of them would already be tucked into their beds. But for now, we all seemed to just go with the flow, stopping when we could to catch our breath.

Hands on my hips, I walked up to the pine railing and stared down the hill at the pasture where Ross and Alex were working on opposite ends. The deck afforded a lookout to the rest of the property, but instead of seeing the smokehouse, the skinning shed, and the new irrigation we’d put in from the river, and appreciating what we’d accomplished so far, I saw what still needed to be done—the pasture, the barn loft and greenhouse, the uncut and unstacked wood for our winter fires . . .

Ross walked toward the house with his empty water jug, and reached for the unwound hose underneath the deck. “Ross,” I said, remembering the time. “I thought you were going to check on the hydro plant today?”

He rinsed his face off with a splash, then shook the excess water drops from his head. “I wanted to help Alex with the fence. The kid seemed determined to get it done today. The hydro plant can wait.”

“Oh, well . . . you didn’t have to do that.” Ross had plenty of his own projects to work on, he didn’t need to take on ours too. “Can I at least get you something to eat? Thea’s having honey, apparently it’s amazing.”

Ross eyed her on the steps as she ran her tongue around her mouth.

“As delicious as that looks,” he said wryly, “I’m okay. I snuck inside and had some of that leftover pasta a few hours ago.”

“Oh, good. I can’t believe I’m only just now thinking about food. Alex must be starving. He’s working himself to near death out there. I told him I would help him do it tomorrow, after I was finished getting the plants potted. But he didn’t want to wait.”

Lips pursed in a flat line, Ross stared out at Alex, a small crease pulling at his brow. I’d come to know Ross’s quirks well enough by now to recognize his expression.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “What? You might as well say it. You and Jackson have the same pinched look when you want to tell me off about something.”

The smallest hint of a smile twitched into place, and Ross shook his head. “Not tell you off,” he said, glancing up at me, and I leaned against the railing, waiting. “It’s just . . . you have all of this.” He swept his hand from the garage and outbuildings on our left, to the new barn and greenhouse to the right. “And you’re so busy being afraid of winter and what’s happening in the lower forty-eight, you forget you’re all still alive and that you get to live.”

My frown deepened, and I waited for him to explain.

“Enjoy your second chance a little, Elle,” he said more quietly. “Most people didn’t get one.”

His words sobered me—shocked me, even.

“Don’t have regrets.” When his eyes met mine, I knew exactly what he meant. Ross knew regret more than anyone—his own regrets and everyone whose death he’d ever felt. It was the very reason he preferred not to go hunting with Jackson anymore. Death was different for him now. Living was different.

“Jackson tells me to slow down,” I told him. “To stop worrying so much. But it’s not that easy.” I looked at Thea on the steps, then at Alex. “It’s not myself I’m worried about anymore. And staying busy keeps my mind from spinning,” I admitted.

Ross cleared his throat. “Just . . . don’t let Herodson take all of this from you too. Not on top of everything else.” His blue eyes shimmered when they met mine, though I wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the setting sunlight or bottled up emotion.

Leaving me with that, Ross grabbed his water jug and headed back to the fence.

My chest ached as his words sank into the off-limit memories in my heart: the dark, unwanted parts of my past, and the sad memories that kept the fear above the surface of everything else. I didn’t want to wonder if one freezing-cold night would be our last ever again. I didn’t want dangerous men to find us like they had in Slana, threatening our lives. I didn’t want any of that, and with the General doing God knows what somewhere else, it felt like it was only a matter of time before another bomb dropped and we were caught unprepared.

I never wanted to feel that way again, even if it meant a few restless nights of sleep. Even if it meant we had to work a little longer and a little harder for now.

3

Alex

I never thought I’d miss snow. Not when I’d lived in Alaska and was surrounded by it most of the year. I definitely didn’t miss it when my feet were so cold I couldn’t feel my toes. And when I’d told Gale, my foster mom when I was ten, that I needed new boots, she gave me a lecture about how money was tight and there were other things more important than new shoes. She said the same thing when I told her I needed a new jacket. Now, a jacket was the furthest thing from my mind.

With a deep breath, I continued my lift and pull of the post pounder as the steel rod broke ground. At least the ground was still damp from the intermittent rain.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Without the ocean nearby, summer in Whitehorse was hot as hell. And the swarms of mosquitoes that came whooshing in after the rain, like a toxic cloud of death, were what nightmares were made of. My skin crawled just thinking about them.

Alaska had been known for mosquitoes, but not so much where I’d always lived. Here, in the Yukon, they could smell my blood from miles away, and seemed to come in masses. Hot days were a blessing in that way only; the mosquitoes didn’t hang around much on a sweltering, dry day.

Using my arm to wipe the sweat from my temple, I glanced at the twelve steel posts along the pasture’s fence line. Progress was progress, I supposed. Slow going, but progress all the same.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

My arms burned with fatigue and sweat trickled down my cheek as I continued post pounding, yet somehow, the more holes I made, the quicker my pace became. Once I was a good two feet into the ground, I moved on to the next one. When we were finished with everything, the farm wouldn’t be huge, but it would be big enough to sustain us, if we could find the livestock to fill it.

Pulling my baseball cap from my head, I wiped the sweat from my brow and glanced around the property. I’d never built anything like what we’d done with this place. I’d never stayed anywhere long enough for it to feel like home, let alone be part of a family. It sounded pathetic, but it was true; this place felt more like home than anywhere I’d ever been.

I hated to think of the possibility that it could all be taken away in the blink of an eye by the General, or by greedy-bastard survivors that wanted what we had worked so hard for. Or worse, that somehow, I would fuck things up—because that’s what I tended to do—and have to leave.

Ross headed from the house, back down the hill to the pasture gate.

“Hey, Alex!”

I looked at Elle, who was leaning against the deck railing. She pulled her long, dark hair up into a knot on top of her head.

“What’s up?” I straightened, and grabbed my water bottle off the ground, unscrewing the cap.

She cupped her hand above her eyes, and peered out at me. “I didn’t realize what time it is. You hungry?”

“Nah,” I called back. “I’m good.” It was probably past nine, but dinner was the last thing on my mind. It was the hottest day of the week, and I could hear the sound of the river rushing beyond the tree line. It was the best part of being out here, and today it was calling for me, like a meaty bone to a hungry dog.

“Let me rephrase that,” she called. “I’m making us something to eat. Come up in twenty.”

I gave Elle a thumbs up, because what was I going to do, argue with her? If you were smart you didn’t argue with Elle. It wasn’t only because she could burst into flames if she wanted to, either. For me, it was because Elle was so damned nice all the time, and the moment her openness became guarded and unhappy, it gutted me. I’d never had anyone willing to set the world on fire for me before, and I knew Elle would quite literally do it for any of us if she had to. She was the closest thing I ever had to a maternal anything, and I didn’t want to disappoint her, ever. And deep down, I didn’t want her to change her mind about loving us the way she did—about loving me.

“I want caribou!” Thea shouted as she ran down the deck steps, past the garage and skinning shed, to the smokehouse. Elle ambled after her.

“We should make enough for the others,” Thea called behind her. “In case they come home.”

I thought they would’ve been back already, and wished I’d gone with them the moment I changed my mind. It was Beau’s first trip, and even though I didn’t think Jackson was going to let him actually hunt, I’d wanted to be there when he shot the rifle for the first time.

But the moment Phil had said he wanted to go, to represent Woody’s group, I’d decided to stay behind. The way he flirted with Sophie annoyed me. And the way he kept urging her to be stronger and faster—better than she already was—pissed me off too. She was perfect, she didn’t need to be something she wasn’t just to suit him. And even if everyone else seemed to forget that Phil and Woody kidnapped her and Elle, I hadn’t. I glanced at the cabin Sophie slept in and the one Phil stayed in sometimes beside it.

Things between Sophie and me were far too complicated to insert myself more than I’d already tried. She was my best friend, at least the closest thing I’d ever had to one, but anything beyond friendship felt impossible. She saw too much. She could feel things in me that I didn’t want to feel—at least, if I let her get close enough. The stronger her Ability grew, the harder it was for me to ignore all the things about myself I hated, and all the things I never wanted her to see seemed to push their way to the forefront of my mind—horrible decisions, regrets, and the moments I was at my absolute worst. She didn’t need to see that, hell; I didn’t want to remember it. I didn’t want her to think about me differently or for things to change between us more than they already had, and I knew they would if I let her get too close.

I chugged the last of the water in my bottle and was about to toss it aside and dive back into work, when I heard laughter coming from down by the river.

My heart pumped an extra, excited beat, and I dropped my tools and headed toward the river crossing, behind the barn. Three heads bobbed between the tree line as they crossed the walking bridge.

Feeling a wash of relief and excitement that they were home, I took my baseball cap off, drenched with sweat, and ran my hand over my head, waiting for Sophie and Jackson to step fully into view. I saw Jackson through the trees first, the butt of his rifle poking up behind his back on one side, and a large bag of meat slung over his other shoulder and backpack.

Sophie walked beside him with a sack of her own slung over her shoulder. Her dusty rose t-shirt was wet with sweat around her armpits and neck, as well as under her breasts, though I tried not to notice. Her hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, and strawberry blonde wisps of hair fluttered around her face.

She wasn’t like the Sophie I’d first met, with scared, crystal-like blue eyes and a frantic smile. She was more confident now, and as much as I hated to admit it, Phil was probably to thank for that. He wasn’t a self-defense master or anything, but he’d taken what Woody had taught him and shown her. Now that Ross was around to help them too, Phil and Sophie were attached at the hip. Always practicing. Always laughing. Always tired. But despite the circles under her eyes, she gleamed in the sunlight as she drew closer.

I reddened with a different kind of heat as I walked toward them, realizing how much I’d missed her.

“Race ya!” Beau called as he and Luna shuffled past her, a smaller sack of meat in his arms, and his back loaded with his camping gear, like the others. Luna trotted toward Taiga, her mate and beta, and Little Foot and Rocky, who scurried out from whatever shade they’d been lounging in, happy to have their mother home.

“You’ll win,” Sophie called after him, and she grinned automatically at Phil as he came up the wooded path behind them.

My smile fell. Fucking Phil. Exhaling my displeasure, I hurried closer to help them with their gear. When my gaze met Sophie’s, her grin broadened, making her eyes twinkle, and relief washed over me. She was excited to be home too, maybe even happy to see me. “You survived,” I teased, taking the sack of meat from her. They had to have walked a couple dozen miles, at least.

“It was Sophie’s hit,” Jackson said proudly. “She didn’t even try to be humble about it either.” He chuckled, as we all continued toward the house.

“Yeah, Sophie’s a badass.” Phil leaned closer so that his shoulder brushed hers. “Everyone watch out.” With a wink, he squeezed her biceps gently, and I nearly lost my lunch.

“Here.” I forced myself to ignore him and switched the meat to my other hand, feeling my forearm strain. I took Sophie’s backpack to lighten her load, my nostrils filled instantly with the scent of citronella and sunblock wafting off of her skin.

“Thanks,” she said with a huff of relief, and when her eyes met mine, she smiled.

Jackson stopped mid-step, his eyes fixed forward. When I glanced up, Elle was standing in the smokehouse doorway, a barely contained grin pulling at her lips.

Thea poked her head out from behind Elle. “What did you get?” she called happily, and she shuffled up to us, eyeing the bags of meat.

“A moose,” Phil told her, and he rumpled her head as he passed her. Thea glared at him and smoothed the top of her hair back down again. Get ‘em, Thea, I silently cheered.

“Well,” She put her hands on her hips. “I hope it wasn’t a baby.” Her voice softened with concern.

“Of course it wasn’t,” Beau snipped from the smokehouse. He dropped his pack in the dirt and frowned, waiting for us slowpokes to catch up.

Thea shrugged. “How would you know?”

“It was a bull, I could tell. Trust me.” Beau turned and started for the house.

“Hey—” Elle called out, glancing back at him. “That’s not where your pack goes.”

Beau grumbled as he lugged it back up onto his shoulder again.

“Put your stuff in the garage, bud,” I told him. “We need to unpack and put it all away.”

Elle hurried toward Jackson, her eyes locked with his. A smile parted his lips, his mustache and beard taking on a life of their own as a massive, happy grin engulfed his face. Watching them was both heartwarming and heartbreaking in a way I wasn’t sure I quite understood. The instant Elle wrapped her arms around him, I felt like an intruder in their private moment and looked away to find Sophie staring at me.

Her eyes caught the sun, brightening her whole face, and we walked over to the skinning shed to unpack the meat. “It looks like you’ve been busy,” she said, pointing toward the pasture.

When I glanced at our progress down the hill, I saw Ross making his way up from the gate. “Yeah. We put a good dent in it.”

“You’re always working on something.”

“That’s how it works, right? Pull your weight or get the boot.” I smiled, but something in Sophie’s eyes held my gaze. It was a flash of pity, and I didn’t like it.

“It’s not like Survivor, Alex. You don’t get voted off the island. This is your home now—we’re your family.”

My heart did a triple pump and I swallowed thickly. She had no idea how much those words meant to me, but I didn’t like that knowing gleam she sometimes had, so I flashed her a smile instead. “I don’t know, Soph. You got pretty freaked out when I accidentally used your shampoo. I think I was on the blacklist for a while. But don’t worry, I’ve steered clear ever since.”

Sophie rolled her eyes and took her pack from me to set by the door. “Come on. Let’s get this meat cleaned before I put you back on it.”

Sun from the skylight filled the twelve-by-twelve space, the knives and pans hanging on the wall blinding us when they caught the light.

“It looks like you guys brought home a bunch more work,” I joked.

Jackson came into the shed behind us, followed by Thea and Elle, who stopped in the doorway.

“Does that mean we don’t have to go to bed soon?” Thea asked, leaning against Elle.

I opened the sack, and pulled out a hunk of thigh meat.

“I was just going to make dinner and get her ready for bed,” Elle said, glancing at Jackson. “We were thinking tacos.”

“No dinner yet?” Jackson looked surprised.

“We’ve been working all day,” Thea explained with exasperation. “Like, all day.”

Jackson eyed Elle for a moment, then glanced from Thea, to me, then to Sophie. “I have a better idea.” He looked at Thea again. “You guys get something quick together to eat, we’ll get the meat cut and hung, and then we’ll all go for a late-night swim. We’ll be in bed before midnight.”

“Really?” Thea chirped.

“I think it’s okay to bend the rules once in a while,” Jackson admitted, and a silent conversation passed between him and Elle before the corner of her mouth lifted with the hint of a smile. “I think,” he continued, “we could all use a night off from chores and pesky bedtimes.”

“I’m in,” I said, the water still calling to me. It was the perfect end to a long, hot day.

4

Sophie

Pulling my tank top over my bathing suit, I tried not to worry too much about what I’d look like in my bikini once I got out there. I’d never worried much about my body in the past. I never had a reason to show it off in a small town with below zero temperatures, and I was always too slender to worry much about weight.

I’d gone swimming with Phil and Beau a couple of times, and I’d waded in the water with Thea, catching pollywogs. But coming home and seeing Alex’s gorgeous smile—it was like I’d been deprived of it for months, not days. I hated that I couldn’t wrap my arms around him, the way Elle wrapped her arms around Jackson, because Alex was afraid of my touch. I hated that I couldn’t tell him how much I missed him because he would internally freak out, the way he always did. He’d put even more distance between us, and that was the last thing I wanted him to do. I hated that I knew all of those things and yet I still wanted him, and had hope that there was some way to make him come around.

I stared at my boney shoulders and bruised arms in the cabin’s bathroom mirror, ignoring the circles that darkened my eyes and my gross, unwashed hair.

Whatever was between Alex and me was such an awkward mess; I needed to use whatever arsenal of weapons I had tonight to remind him that I was still here. I was the Sophie he flirted with back in Whitely, and I wanted him to remember what it felt like the first time we touched—the way the air hummed, and how I could feel his heart beating in tandem with mine. But I didn’t feel feminine or beautiful. I didn’t have much to work with, and the old sunburn peeling off my shoulders, and my nose, pink from too much sun, didn’t help. All I wanted was to look, well, girlie, and I looked like a complete mess.

Letting out a deflated sigh, I pulled my hair up into a ponytail, grabbed my towel, and scooted into my flip flops.

I’d originally chosen to live in the cabin instead of the house because I wanted space—distance from unintentional arm brushes and hallway run-ins. I wanted to be able to disconnect from everyone’s incessant energy so I could decompress and shut down completely at night. But all the previous months of being cooped up with everyone made my current seclusion feel more like a punishment—self-imposed, but a punishment nonetheless.

Alex, Beau, Thea, Elle, and Jackson all slept in the house, confined and together, even if we were no longer sequestered into a single room. I missed Thea’s wild hair first thing in the morning, and Beau’s affectionate hugs and cuddles before he woke up enough to remember he was angry at the world, or at Thea—whichever came first. I missed the scent of Jackson’s strong coffee wafting through the air, and Alex’s morning humming.

Elle and I still woke up and watched the sunrise together sometimes, at least. Like me, her mind was busy. It never truly shut off. But, all in all, distancing myself from the others had proven both lonely and pointless; my mind never quieted, and I was alone for nothing.

Flinging the door open, I stepped outside my cabin and walked right into Ross as he passed by. The three cabin apartments were situated snuggly together, and we’d nearly ran into each other on more than one occasion.

The instant I touched him, our eyes locked. Until I met Ross, I didn’t realize emotions had color—or maybe not color so much as a brightness or darkness. Regret was an aching bone-white that commingled with a hanging gray cloud of guilt. Both were always present with him. The first time we’d been introduced and Ross shook my hand, he’d been drunk, and his mind was masked in a thick veil of fog that I struggled to feel or see through.

Tonight, however, Ross was sober, and the deaths and paling life forces he’d felt since the outbreak clung to him like leeches in his thoughts.

“Sorry,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure if it was for running into him or because he was so lost in all the gray. Unlike me, who could relive someone’s worst and best memories, Ross could only feel what came with death. I could practice and hone what I could do, even if it was a work in progress, but what could Ross do? He couldn’t practice like I could, and even if he never touched a dying person again, he’d already seen and felt enough to last him a lifetime.

“My fault,” he said with a nod, and continued walking with his pack lugged over his shoulder.

“Hey—um, Ross?” I dropped my arm to my side, indifferent that my towel hung in the dirt. Everything was dirty these days, and there were worse things.

He stopped mid-beeline for his Chevy, parked by the house, and like he knew what I was going to say, he hesitantly turned to look at me, and his red-tinted eyebrows lifted slightly.

“I—” I tried and failed to think of the words I wanted to say. I was sorry, but that wasn’t helpful. I was sad for him, and wanted to support him, but I didn’t know how. “I know how it feels, consuming the bad things.”

The openness of his gaze tightened, and Ross swallowed. Yes, I could see his Ability weighing him down like a barbell rested across his shoulders. “If you ever want to talk, or—”

“It’s okay, Sophie. Thank you, though. You’ve got enough shit to worry about. You don’t need mine too.” He flashed me a reassuring smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes—it never did. And I wasn’t sure if him walking away made me feel better or worse. Ross was alone in his struggle, at least he thought he was, and I knew the dark path he was wandering down. I’d been down it and seen my worst self in it. Nightmares. Sneaking pills in Slana, desperate to both get some sleep and stay awake. The loneliness.

“Just . . . keep it in mind,” I told him. “Okay?”

“I will,” he called back, but we both knew he wouldn’t. I was just a kid, after all, at least to him. Like my mom and Jackson, and sometimes Elle, the adults tried to protect us from all that they could, no matter the cost to them. I saw the world so differently now, and it was hard to explain the way it was for me to everyone else; I didn’t need protection, I needed to feel connected. I needed to feel the good things so they would outweigh the bad. It was probably why I clung to the idea of Alex so much. He was good and felt right, no matter what he thought.

“Hey, Sophie. Tell Alex the pasture gate’s finished for me, would you?” Ross nodded toward the barn. “I’m going to check in on Woody and Stanley at the prison, see if they have any news from the lower forty-eight. Otherwise, I’ll be at the hydro plant, probably for the next couple of days.” Ross swung open the truck’s passenger side door. “Have Jackson call me on the radio if he needs me.”

I held my palm up with a slight wave of acknowledgement, and then Ross put his sunglasses on and climbed into the driver’s seat. As he backed down the driveway, I wondered if he’d be conscious at all while he was away, or if he would drink himself into complete oblivion.

I eyed the pasture Ross and Alex had started on as I crossed the gravel drive to the house, wondering if we’d find any livestock to fill it. My mom had a love for animals. I’d always thought it was so out of character, especially when she insisted we head into the city to volunteer at the animal shelter on occasion. And I was even more surprised when I found out she made large, monthly donations to the Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center.

But I guess I shouldn’t have been all that surprised, I saw that now. My mother wasn’t heartless, she’d just been bred not to fail, and once she’d found out she was pregnant with me at eighteen, everything she knew was shattered. She was no longer perfect; she was a blemish to my grandparents’ name and they disowned her. Since my father never actually loved her, she strove to regain control and excellence in everything she did, from her job as the mayor to her hair, perfectly curled each and every day.

She felt a kinship for discarded creatures, I think. And somehow, it felt like I’d still have a small piece of her if we could find a little collection of lost creatures too.

“Soph!” Beau called from up on the deck. He smiled when he saw me. “You ready?”

I lifted my towel in answer.

He called to Luna and hurried down the deck steps, and just as happily, Luna went running after him.

The night he and Thea confessed what had happened to their mother, or rather, what their mother had tried to do to them, and how Thea had protected her big brother, I worried Beau would pull away from me like everyone else did, but it had been the opposite.

Unlike Alex, who kept everything about himself so close it was suffocating, Beau was grateful he didn’t have to keep secrets anymore, and everything was out in the open, between us anyway. Even if Beau still struggled with the knowledge that, as Thea’s big brother, he couldn’t protect her the way she could protect herself, he didn’t feel as alone anymore, and that made me happy.

“Wait for me!” Thea chirped, and hopped down the steps. “Beau, wait!” she called and loped down the dirt hill after him, a dust cloud trailing in her wake. Slowly, I followed behind them.

“Thea!” Alex shouted as he stepped out onto the deck and lifted her pink towel. “You forgot your—” It tore out of his hand, like Thea herself yanked it from his hold, and floated in the air after her. “Towel,” he muttered, and the kids and Luna disappeared into the trees, the towel floating after them.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that,” Alex said as he strode up beside me. His pace was faster than mine, and he forced himself to slow down to walk with me.

I snorted. “Yeah, me neither.”

He was in his swim trunks and t-shirt, and I tried not to feel self-conscious beside him. I’d definitely noticed how he’d changed in the past few months. All of the hard labor had made him stronger and bigger, I could tell by the way his shirt stretched a little at his shoulders, but I tried not to stare. What did Alex notice about me?

“This is going to feel so good,” he practically sang, and clapped his hands together.

“Tell me about it.” The crusted sweat and dirt from the past twenty-four hours made my skin gritty and tight, and I noticed a little pep in my step as I thought about submerging myself in the water.

I heard the screen door open and close up at the house, and when I glanced back, I could hear Phil, Elle, and Jackson chatting as they plodded down the steps. Phil hurried to catch up with us, flashing me a smile as he clomped closer.

He was the same height as Alex, though a little leaner, and as he walked with his hands casually in his pockets, I imagined he was a jock in his past life. Cool, collected, and with an easy, boy-next-door way about him that I’m sure got him all the cheerleaders.

“If I were home, all I’d be doing is swimming—cannonballs all summer long,” he said, longingly. His brown hair flopped into his eyes with each step.

“Let me guess,” I said. “You were on the swim team? Water polo?”

He smirked, skeptical. “Water polo, actually. How’d you guess?”

I shrugged. “Women’s intuition,” I told him.

“Liar.” He grinned. “You saw it, didn’t you? One of my many fascinating memories.”

I shook my head. “No, actually. I’m just that good.” And it was true. I might’ve liked Alex, but I noticed Phil too. It was hard not to. He never seemed to be in a bad mood. He was curious and wasn’t afraid to ask questions, and he answered them just as freely, which made being friends easy. I didn’t have to worry if I accidentally touched him or stood too close. He was just good-natured, open Phil who accepted me just the way I was, and I was thankful for that.

“But I do remember something about dirty laundry and a Speedo,” I admitted with a wink.

“Ha! I knew it.” He pointed at me. “What else is in that noggin of yours?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I smiled, and stepped over a protruding rock. I’d seen plenty about Phil, not purposely, at least not after I got to know him. It hadn’t taken long to trust him. He was the man of the house after his dad died, and took good care of his mother and sister. He was lighthearted because a long time ago he had to hide the hurt.

“We’d be at championships right about now,” he mused, and his thoughts drifted a little. “If I was still home and still playing, of course.”

“If you were home, a lot of things would be different,” Alex muttered, and even though Alex wasn’t a huge fan of Phil after the whole kidnapping thing, I knew that wouldn’t be the case if he understood Phil more. If Alex knew Phil had missed his championship match because his sister was sick at school and his mom couldn’t get off work to pick her up, Alex might cut him a bit of a break. Especially if he knew Phil had lied to his mom and told her the match was cancelled due to the weather, because he didn’t want her to feel bad.

But just like I would never tell Phil anything about Alex he didn’t ask about himself, I wouldn’t tell Alex why Phil was a nicer guy than he gave him credit for.

“Do you ever think about it?” I glanced at Phil. “I mean, how different things would be if you were in Florida during the outbreak?”

He nodded, and I hated that a little cloud hovered over us, but I couldn’t help myself. I thought a lot about how different everything could be, and I knew Phil would humor me.

“Yeah. I used to be angry that I wasn’t home to be around my friends and the rest of my family,” he admitted. “But then again, I doubt any of them are still alive. Being here has taught me a lot, thanks to Woody, and you guys, of course. I might not have anything like this if I was at home.” He cleared his throat. “I might be alone.”

“Well, you’re not,” I said, trying to lighten the mood again. “Though I might take being alone in the Sunshine State over the mosquitoes here. Oh, do you remember that giant water park in Miami—”

“Oh yeah, I forgot you’re from Florida too.” Phil smiled, and it made me feel better about darkening his mood. “Yeah, I used to love that place. Did you go a lot?”

“No, never.” I sighed. “I remember seeing it from the overpass though I didn’t get to swim much, like you. My mom wouldn’t let me.”

“What? Why not?” Phil looked at me, but it was the sympathy in Alex’s eyes I noticed first.

“I got made fun of a lot as a kid for having a club foot. She didn’t like me going out in public. She thought she was protecting me, but I think it only made it worse. I was the only kid in my neighborhood who was inside almost all summer long, so they were always curious and made up a lot of their own stories.”

Phil nudged me teasingly. “Don’t worry, Soph, you’re strong now. Ain’t nothin’ gonna get you down.”

I barked out a laugh, because he sounded ridiculous, and nodded to the river. “Time to get your water fix,” I told him. Further down from the house, where the pebbles progressed to boulders that looked like they tumbled out of the spruce trees that separated land from the water, the river was broader and deeper, and we had our own little cove.

Luna yipped at the bank, and Beau and Thea giggled as the wolf splashed them, her tail wagging excitedly.

I blinked into the reflection of the sun setting on the water’s surface. Everything was washed in pinks and yellows. Lifting my face to the breeze, I inhaled the scent of the river, heat and moisture swirling in the midnight sun.

“Finally,” Beau grumbled when he noticed us, and he brushed a pesky mosquito off his leg before he ran into the water.” Like a good brother, he’d waited ashore with his sister, who was still new at swimming, even if he seemed to be put out by it.

I kicked off my flip flops and pulled my hair out of its noose, watching Thea’s face fall as Beau splashed deeper into the water without her, and her bottom lip protruded a smidgen.

“Careful of the rocks, Beau,” Elle called as she came up behind us. “They might be slippery.” Elle winked at Thea. “Don’t worry, we’ll still have fun.” She knelt down beside Thea to help her out of her shorts.

“You bet we will,” Jackson said, and his low growl had Thea giggling as he swooped her into the air and made his way into the water, one heavy footfall at a time. Jackson wasn’t a giant or anything, but he was a big guy and he was strong; Thea probably felt like she was riding on the back of a bear, laughing giddily as they waded into the water.

I dipped my foot in the water and cringed. “Oh geez.” Goose bumps grew over my skin. The river was refreshing, but it was cold, not glacier-cold, but still, cold.

“You’ve handled worse,” Alex said quietly with a smirk.

I tugged off my tank top and shorts, drawing in the breath I needed if I was going to wash away the day. Too nervous to see if Alex was watching, I hurried into the water before I could lose my nerve, screeching the whole way in. When I submerged myself, the water’s cold fingers rushed through my hair and over my skin, and I felt instant gratification.

Until Whitehorse, I’d never swam in a river. I’d never felt the kiss of cool water rushing over warm skin. Not in a way that was enjoyable, anyway. Not like this. The sweat, the dust, and the moose gut remnants that likely clung to me were washed away, taking the tension of the past couple of days with it.

The trek to Cantlie Lake in search of moose was beautiful but long, and the terrain was rough. Although I was slowly becoming an outdoorsy sort of girl, the muscle and exertion it took to do just about everything these days took some getting used to. That, and all of my self-defense practice with Phil, worked muscles I didn’t even know I had.

Water dripped down my face and hung in my eyelashes as I came up for air.

“It feels so good,” Phil groaned, swimming closer. He looked easy and relaxed, like he was made for the water.

“Sure, if you like swimming in shards of glass,” I joked.

Phil chuckled before diving underwater again.

I peered around for Alex. He was still up on shore, chatting with Elle as he pulled his shirt off, exposing bronze skin and sinewy muscle. He muttered something, making Elle chuckle before he climbed up onto the rock.

He scaled the larger one beside it, until he was a dozen feet off the ground, then he jumped into the river. The water splashed and rippled, and Thea clapped for him as we waited for his head to poke back up. I’d never do something like that, not knowing if I’d hit the bottom. I wasn’t sure if I was simply afraid or just smart.

When Alex finally came up for air, water dripped down his face, the scar on his right temple glistening in the sunlight, and he swam over to me. “You should jump off the rock, Soph, it’s fun.”

But I was shaking my head the moment he uttered you should. “Nope. I’m good. With my luck I’d hit the rocks on the bottom.”

“It’s really deep over there, I promise. You won’t hit the bottom. I jump off it all the time.”

I glanced back at Beau, swimming with Phil, Jackson, and Thea, then back at Alex. “All the time? What, did you guys just swim the whole time we were gone, melting in the sun?”

“Just me,” he teased, and wiped the water from his eyes. “When I needed a quick cool down.”

“I forgot you run hot. It must be all that exotic blood running through your veins you’re always talking about.” My feet searched for the slimy rocks at the bottom to stand on.

A slight smile crept between his lips, and he lifted an indifferent shoulder. “I like to think so,” he said, flippant. I couldn’t help but splash him.

“You’re so full of yourself, you know that?” I splashed him again, and he splashed me back.

“I’m only teasing you.” He flashed me a playful smirk, but I knew Alex’s confidence was all for show. Still, when he flashed those heart-stopping smiles my way and made his eyebrows dance like he hadn’t a care in the world, it was easy to forget the vulnerable Alex he didn’t want me to see.

“Exotic blood aside, I’m just miserable in this heat.” He nodded toward the boulders. “Come on. You know you want to.”

“No, actually,” I muttered, but as Alex swam over to where the rocks were bathed in sunlight. I followed him, glad to have some time alone with him. Plus, it was easy to give in when Alex wanted something because he never really asked for anything. Even if the old me didn’t do adventurous very well, the new me would, and that’s what I was trying to be: new and improved, stronger. I wanted to be a different Sophie.

Alex climbed out of the water, his feet clutching the rock’s surface as he pulled himself up. As I began to climb up behind him, I tried not to notice how his shorts clung to his thighs. The boulders were as high as they were awkward to climb, and as I leaned forward to grip the surface for balance, Alex reached for my hand to help me up.

“Such a gentleman,” I began, but the moment his fingers laced with mine, and I felt it—a warmth blooming through my body, exponentially stronger the longer we touched—I tugged my hand away.

“Sorry,” I bit out. There was an unspoken rule that we weren’t allowed to touch, his rule, not so much mine. I’d be perfectly content if he let me hold on and never let go.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I forget sometimes.”

“It’s okay.” I breathed out the words, hating the chill in the air between us as he backed away. “It’s not like you’ll melt or something.”

Alex winked. “Well, that’s good to know. I was worried. You know how I hate the heat.” His smile grew, warming the blood in my veins again, and mine grew along with it.

I really, really loved his smile. “Oh, I don’t know,” I said with a sigh, and I sat down on the boulder. “The heat’s not so bad.”

Alex plopped down beside me, his soggy shorts dripping wet.

“And you’ve been sneaking down here to swim, so I don’t feel too bad for you.” I leaned back on my palms and held my face up to the dying sunlight. Goose bumps prickled over my skin, wanting more. Or, it might’ve been Alex’s gaze. I could feel his eyes on me, trailing over my body, which sent another wave of goose bumps over me before I gathered up the nerve to look at him.

The instant I did, his eyes snapped to mine, and his dark cheeks reddened. Even if I hated awkward moments with a passion, there was something exhilarating about them too. I wanted Alex to look at me. I wanted him to like me the way I’d liked him since the day I first met him. I didn’t want the constant space between us.

Alex cleared his throat and showed me his bicep. As he moved his arm, I tried to ignore the way the muscle flexed, differently than it used to. It was bigger; not huge, but just enough to make my fingers twitch with the need to reach out and touch it. “The heat’s not so bad, huh? Tell that to the heat rash on my arms.”

“Heat rash?” I studied the little red bumps in the crook of his elbow, wanting to run my fingers over the rash to soothe it. But I pressed my fingertips against the rock to refrain instead. “That sucks.” With an exhale, I forced myself to look away. “At least you didn’t have to burn three times over before you learned your skin just hated the sun.”

The corner of his mouth lifted in amusement, and he glanced at my body again.

“Up here, googly eyes,” I teased. “On my shoulders.” I craned my neck to pick at some of the peeling skin. “It’s so gross.”

“It’s just a sunburn.” His eyes latched onto my shoulder. “I know one thing I bet you didn’t know about me,” he said, goading me with his insatiable smile again.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“I love peeling off the skin.”

I blinked at him. “That’s . . . absolutely disgusting.”

With a chuckle, Alex shrugged and looked back out at the water, and I noticed the giant welt on his shoulder.

“Holy hell, you weren’t joking about the mosquitoes either.” I reached out to touch his shoulder, instantly feeling the heat again as my fingers brushed his skin. I felt the pull to him that made me almost dizzy, and I saw an image this time, too. Of me. Of the whole gang. Then one of his dead mother lying in a pile of her own vomit.

“Shit,” I bit out, snatching my hand away. My eyes latched onto his of their own accord, like I needed instant forgiveness and reassurance that he didn’t hate me. “Sorry.” I ran my hands over my hair and let out a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed on me, then his cheeks burned bright again. A muted ache and sense of fear flowed through me, like a distant echo I didn’t want to feel or see. They were his feelings, and Alex knew it.

“You say we can touch, huh?” The frustration was rough in his voice. “I don’t think so—”

“Alex—”

He shook his head.

“It’s fine. Really. I don’t care what I see.” I leaned closer, willing him to look at me. “Seriously. It’s like that with everyone . . . I’m working on controlling it.”

“Well,” he said, picking angrily at an innocent reed. “I don’t want it to be that way with me.”

“It won’t be that way forever.”

His gold-flecked eyes darted to me. “You don’t know that.”

This time, I glared at him. “Yes, I do.” I knew it was true because I was determined. “I’ll figure out a way.”

“You don’t have to do that for me, Sophie. I’m not a burden—”

“I didn’t say you were a burden.” I reached for him again, feeling the sudden need to ease him in some way, but he scowled at my hand, and I dropped it back onto the rock.

I wasn’t sure what else to say, other than, “I’m sorry.” I didn’t like the meekness of my voice; it was the old Sophie inching her way back in, and that made me angry.

“This is why I hate this,” he grumbled, mostly to himself. “You shouldn’t have to be sorry because of what you can do. I don’t want to make you feel that way, but I can’t help how I feel either. And if touching me makes it worse, for both of us, then . . .” He shook his head.

“Then what? You’re never going to touch me?” The words felt raw and too intimate, and I blushed as his gaze slowly shifted to mine. “You know what I mean,” I grumbled, and I licked my lips.

“I don’t want you to see the dark parts of me, Sophie. I don’t want that to be what you think of when you look at me—”

“It’s not, I promise.”

“Yet.”

I rolled my eyes, hating that this was even a conversation. “Alex . . .” I wanted to tell him to stop being an idiot and just deal with it, because we both liked each other, but I knew he wouldn’t listen to me. Every reassurance out of my mouth would just make things worse, like it always did. “So, this is just how it’s always going to be with us then,” I muttered. “Great.” I climbed to my feet, determined to jump off the stupid rock since it was suddenly too warm and we were definitely too close.

“Soph—”

I didn’t hear the last of his words. The water splashed up around me, and I submerged myself in the two-toned depths of the river, letting it cool the burning tingle on my skin. How could someone be so perfect and infuriating at the same time?

Alex jumped in, and I felt the water shift beside me as I came up for air. I didn’t want to have this conversation anymore, and brushing my hair from my face, I swam toward shore.

“Sophie,” Alex called. Phil, Jackson, and Elle looked over at us. I could feel my cheeks redden even more.

I turned in the water, treading until I could find a rock to stand on. “What, Alex?”

A muscle flexed in the hard-set of his jaw. “If you really want to figure it out, we will. Okay?”

If I really want to figure it out? I glowered at him. My instinct was to ask him if he wanted to be close to me too, or if this was all just to placate me.

“Come on. Don’t be mad. Tomorrow night,” he said, his gaze flicking to everyone on shore. “We’ll meet here and practice or something. Okay? Away from everyone else.” He said the last part quietly, and I could imagine why he wanted privacy, but I wasn’t convinced he wouldn’t change his mind. “Won’t that make you feel better?”

“You look at me like I’m poison, Alex. How is that supposed to make me feel?”

The apprehension on his face softened. “I’m sorry, okay? I don’t think you’re poison, and I think you know that.”

I felt a lick of warmth on my cheeks, and averted my gaze. Maybe because I didn’t want to get my hopes up, or maybe because I didn’t know if he meant what I wanted him to mean. When I looked at him again, I tried to read him. “You really want to?”

He dipped his chin, but it looked like he was holding his breath. If he didn’t want to do this, he wouldn’t have offered, I told myself. So, instead of searching for more reassurance, I nodded. “Fine. Tomorrow.”

Our eyes lingered on one another a moment longer, perhaps trying to gauge how genuine each of us was.

“Hey, Soph!” Phil called. “Nice jump!”

Alex’s gaze shot to Phil and hardened, but I could only smile, feeling slightly hopeful and excited about what tomorrow would bring.

Alex was finally going to let me in.

5

Elle

I stood in front of the foggy mirror, in my towel, staring at my altered reflection. I barely recognized myself anymore, and all the hot running water in the world couldn’t wash away the remnants of the past eight months. I studied the dull green of my eyes, and my skin that was two shades tanner than it had ever been in my life, then I blinked away. If Jenny were still alive, I’m not sure she’d even recognize me anymore.

The sun. The heat. The exhaustion. It had a way of creeping up on you as time moved in a continuous stream of blurry hours and days, between wake and sleep. I’d neglected myself as much as I had neglected the dusty, brushed metal fixtures in front of me, and the tiled floor I stood on. Chunks of mud and bits of gravel, tracked in from shoes, didn’t seem important when time was against you, and your future was so uncertain.

My palms burned with the threat of fire, churning just below the surface of my skin. And if I allowed it, they would burst into flames. It was a mighty, monstrous thing I could do, and my gratitude for it grew exponentially as our uncertain futures seemed to stretch on.

Jackson shut the shower off behind me and let out a heavy sigh. I watched him through the fogged glass as he ran his hand over his loose hair that nearly hung to his shoulders, and as he wrung it out. I wasn’t the only person who was exhausted. The droop of his shoulders gave him away.

I was still in awe of us—of Jackson, a man I cared deeply for that shared my bed. I’d never shared my bed with a man for longer than a few months, and although it had only been that long for us, being with Jackson felt different. It felt like it could last forever, even if he was a man with a history as dark and twisty as my own. Maybe the difference was I actually wanted a future with him.

“It was good what you did tonight,” I told him, and handed Jackson a clean towel over the door.

Water dripped from his nose, and his wet lashes blinked lazily at me.

“Swimming,” I explained with a weak smile.

He dried his arms, his tattoos moving with his muscles, like the creatures themselves were alive. “It’s been a long week. They needed some spontaneity.”

“And you?” He clicked the shower door open and ran the towel over his face and buffed his hair. His hazel eyes trailed the length of his legs as he dried them, then they fixed on me, waiting.

I tightened the towel wrapped around my chest. “What about me?”

“Did you even sleep while I was away, or have you been working and worrying the entire time?”

“Oh, sleep?” I huffed out a breath, or maybe it was a laugh, and I shook my head. “Yes, a little.”

“Did you eat?”

“Yes, of course I ate.” Though it was more like nibbles in between projects, if I remembered correctly. Since we didn’t have much of a daily routine, especially without Jackson to officially call it a day, I’d failed to adhere to any sort of regular lunch or dinner schedule, and the more I realized it, the worse I felt, for Thea and Alex’s sake.

“You can’t keep going like this, Elle,” he said, using his authoritative voice. I appreciated it when he was talking to Beau and Thea, but I bristled a little with his eagle-eyed stare focused on me.

“Like what?” I crossed my arms over my chest and met him glare for glare. “Focused? Determined?”

Jackson wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped closer, his eyebrows pulling together with unnecessary concern. “Exhausted. Anxious.”

“So, I’m a wreck now, huh? You sure know how to make a woman feel sexy.”

His head tilted, and the twitch of his lips meant he was refraining from an eye roll. “No, you’re beautiful,” he said as his eyes scanned over me. “But I think you know what I mean. And the others aren’t blind. Alex sees how hard you’re working, and he wants to work just as hard. Your fear is their fear.”

“I think anxiety is only natural—”

“Elle.” My name was a breath passing between his lips. “I worry about you.”

“You don’t have to worry,” I said with a smile, but a strange sense of unease crept over me. Did he?

“You, more than any of us, know how pointless it is to live in a constant state of what if.” He took my hand in his, staring at my palm against his. “Back in Slana, you told me I couldn’t change the past, that considering all the different things I could’ve done differently when—” he cleared his throat—“when all that happened was eating me alive, and you were right. There was only so much I could’ve done. Just like there’s only so much you can do now.”

I felt the snow in my bones all over again, and remembering how worried I’d been about Jackson back then struck a chord. When he’d retreat to wherever the hell he went at night, I’d be concerned. And I was perpetually distracted and uneasy when he’d withdraw into himself and close out the rest of us for days.

“You’re right.” I gulped down a breath. What ifs followed me around for years after I’d left Dr. John, only to be replaced with fears about the General. I felt the coil of unease in every muscle, and filling every thought. “I don’t want any of you to have to worry about me.” Not like I’d worried about Jackson, and not when everyone deserved some peace of mind after everything we’d been through.

Jackson’s gaze was a living thing that pulled me closer to him without him saying a single word, and he tucked a wet tendril of my hair behind my ear.

“You aren’t afraid then?” I asked. “Not of winter or Herodson’s goons finding us?” I assumed I already knew the answer because any sane person would be afraid, but Jackson was almost always the perfect picture of calm.

“I’m conscious of the precarious situation we’re in, but no, I’m not afraid.”

That seemed doubtful. “No?”

Jackson snaked his strong and protective arms around my waist and peered down at me. “Winter will be rough, but it won’t be like before. It won’t be like Anchorage or Slana. We know what we’re up against now. And we aren’t in Alaska anymore.”

A chill trickled from the back of my neck down my spine. I’d never been so cold as I’d been in the days before we made it to Slana, through the storms that made driving on roads impossible and walking on foot through blizzards our only option.

“And yes,” he continued. “Herodson is dangerous and a constant threat, but he always will be, and until there’s even a whisper of him coming all the way up here—thousands of miles closer—we have lives to live. And we’re not helpless.”

“I feel like I’ve heard that somewhere before,” I mused, recalling every argument he and I had while he’d been lost in a bourbon haze.

His eyebrows drew together. “It might’ve taken me a while, but I see that, now more than ever.” He brushed the crook of his index finger against my cheek, and his gaze was warm, making the heat inside my chest flare to life again. “But I’m talking about you right now, not me.”

Despite my deflecting, I knew Jackson was right about one thing: we weren’t helpless. We had emergency plans in place. Our little dirt road to the lodge was heavily camouflaged now and nearly impossible to find; our fuel stores and extra weapons were staged in hideouts throughout the city—no dangerous person could completely catch us off guard.

“Sometimes,” I breathed, “when I close my eyes, I can see them—the men from Slana.”

Jackson’s hands gripped me a little tighter.

“They could smell us,” I reminded him. “What’s to stop others from finding us the same way? That’s what I can’t get out of my head—”

“Elle,” Jackson said quietly, his voice an earnest calm. “That night . . .” He closed his eyes like he was trying to quell his own fear, or perhaps his regret.

“I don’t blame you,” I whispered. “Look at me.” I reached up to cup the back of his head, willing his eyes to open. When they finally did, I refused to let him look away. “It’s no one’s fault, no matter what you think. Not yours, anyway. But you can’t blame me for being worried about it.”

His hands tightened on my waist, and his thumbs made little circles on my lower back. “If anyone comes, we’ll know, I’ll know,” he promised. “Whatever Woody’s little birds don’t pick up on first, I will. Then, you can fry their sorry asses.” He said it so matter-of-factly that I laughed.

“It’s just . . .” I smiled, more with defeat and exhaustion than with amusement. “I don’t like feeling like we’re at a disadvantage again is all.”

“Neither do I.” His voice was quiet and thoughtful. “But we wanted a real life here too, don’t forget.” There it was, a tinge of fear in his voice and a slight desperation in his eyes, but it wasn’t about surviving, it was about living. He and Ross were both right, and while they’d lost everything, I’d gained so much and I didn’t want to let it go.

I placed my palm against his bare chest. “Ross told me the same thing today.” I flashed him a rueful smile. “It’s like you’re best friends or something.”

“Yes, brilliant friends,” he said with a self-satisfied grin, but like always, when it came to Ross, Jackson’s thoughts began to wander.

“So,” I said, hopeful. The last thing I wanted was Jackson descending down a rabbit hole of his own, one with haunting shadows. “About this self-care you’re lecturing me about. Does that apply to sleep and food only, or are there other, more extracurricular activities I should employ more frequently?”

Jackson’s eyes flashed with anticipation. I dragged my index finger down the center of his chest to where his towel was tied around his waist. “I mean, I get it if sleep is more important . . .”

“Well, exercise is important too.” His voice was low and gruff, and his lip twitched. He picked me up into his arms, causing me to shriek as my towel fell from around me.

I covered my mouth, hoping I hadn’t woken Thea and Beau down the hall, and snickered.

“I’d say once a day.” He shrugged. “At least.”

I stifled another laugh as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his mouth to mine. “Whatever you say. You’re the life coach,” I said, and kissed him through my smile.

With a growl, Jackson kissed me back, more fervently this time. “I missed you,” he said, and nestled his nose against the column of my neck with a contented sigh. His beard tickled, his lips were warm against my skin, making my insides roil and burn, and every tightly wound inch of me needed him. Desperately.

“I missed you too,” I breathed, and pulled his mouth against mine. “Let me show you how much.”

6

Alex

The breeze rushed through the open windows of Jackson’s Tacoma as I led the caravan into Riverdale, a neighborhood in Whitehorse detached by the Yukon River. It was only noon and there was still a lot to do before the end of the day, including helping Jackson unload emergency supplies in one of our many hidden bunkers.

“You both helping me finish the bus’s bio-diesel conversion today?” Bert asked from the backseat.

“I still have to finish the pasture,” I told him, but Phil nodded.

“I’ll head back with you.” Phil said, sitting in the passenger seat beside me, eyeing Bert, who sat crunched up in the back. For an old guy he was nimble, I’d give him that.

“Why don’t you like sitting in the front?” Phil asked, glancing over his shoulder. “I feel like an asshole sitting up here while you’re folded up back there.”

“Call it a quirk,” Bert muttered.

We’d come to learn he was full of them. Aside from the bushy gray hair that hung down to his shoulders, he was a Willie Nelson look-alike. He had the big, unabashed smile, the raspy voice, and just as many wrinkles. He even wore a camo bandana around his head every single day, switching it out for an American flag, or a pink paisley one that Thea insisted looked the best, when Elle made him wash the others.

I didn’t know the particulars, but Ross had mentioned that Bert lost his wife in a car accident while fleeing Fairbanks during the outbreak. Between Bert’s grief and Ross’s, the five months they spent palling around together before Whitehorse were dark and, if I was to guess, a drunken haze.

“It’s just up here,” I told them, and turned off the main road.

Our supply bunkers throughout the city had everything from medical supplies to weapons, food, and clothes in case we ever got holed up there for a while. Even though Riverdale felt a little too much like Whitely for my comfort, cut off from everything by the Yukon River and the Mackenzie Mountains, it was an area we could more easily control. And with the hospital down the road, if we needed it, it was one of the safest places we could bunker up in Whitehorse.

The streets of Riverdale were like the rest of the city, empty and dusty. When we’d decided to make Whitehorse our permanent home, Ross, Phil, Woody, and Jackson had cleared the main road of visible bodies, and Bert and I had moved the abandoned cars. Some of them had been a simple jump or hot-wire, others had required Bert’s special Ability to manipulate the vehicle engine.

Even with the streets cleared, the neighborhood reeked of death, and not so much the smell of it, but in the way the buildings stood looming and lifeless. And the way the wind whistled through the vacant streets, otherwise silent. Most of the time, the place was a giant echo of solitude, and I wondered if it’d ever come to life again.

A few months ago, I would’ve said I hated coming into the city. It was like walking through a grave; even if I couldn’t see all the bodies that filled every building, I still knew they were in there. The more familiar we became with desolate, sprawling Whitehorse, though, the less it bothered me. The stillness had become expected. The debris tumbling down the streets was just part of the scenery, and the taller the foliage was that poked through the cracks and crevasses of the roads and sidewalks, the less lifeless it began to feel.

As I turned off of Lewes Boulevard, there was movement in an alleyway to the left, and I slammed on the brakes.

“Holy shit,” Bert blurted.

Phil braced himself on the dash, and the three of us lurched forward.

Jackson screeched to a halt in the Explorer behind us.

“What the hell, Alex. I almost blew chunks—” Phil groused, but he straightened as a dog trotted into the middle of the road, and the three of us caught our breath.

The dog looked like a collie of some sort, with matted tan fur, but he wasn’t skin and bones, like I would’ve expected.

It had been a couple months since we’d seen any animals roaming the streets, domesticated ones at least. Most of them starved to death, which was bad enough, but at least they didn’t have to wander aimlessly through the streets, suffering with little access to food— especially after having barely survived the winter months.

“We need to put more food out for them,” Bert said, mirroring my thoughts.

But I shook my head. “We tried that. The squirrels and weasels take it all.”

“Too bad we can’t take it home, Sophie would love that.”

I looked at Phil. “What do you mean?” Beau was the animal lover, not Sophie.

“She’s been talking about how excited she is to get a few animals.”

“Really?” I couldn’t help my surprise.

Phil shrugged as if the revelation was nothing to him. “It has something to do with her mom.”

She confided in Phil more than she confided in me these days, I knew that much already. But about her mom? Even if it wasn’t all that surprising, it still hurt a helluva lot.

I watched as the dog lifted his nose to the air, finally eyeing our movement inside the truck, then trotted to the opposite sidewalk and between two apartment buildings, like he had somewhere more important to be.

“Well,” Phil said, “He’s not starving, which means he’s eating somewhere. I’m just curious where . . .” As his mind wandered, I continued down the road.

Part of me thought we should bring the dog back with us, so the poor mutt’s fate wasn’t left to chance, but we had so much to deal with already; I wasn’t sure Elle would appreciate my bringing home a dog we’d have to feed, especially with eight wolves prowling around the property most of the time. At least Luna, Taiga, and the rest of the pack were self-reliant, hunting and patrolling whenever they wanted.

Glancing into the rearview mirror at Jackson and Sophie in the Explorer behind us, I turned toward the fitness center parking lot to unload the boxes, crates, and bags the truck and the Explorer were filled with.

As I pulled into the parking lot, I flung my seatbelt off. We still had a lot to do before we could head back.

Phil cracked the passenger door open as the truck rolled to a stop, and I killed the engine.

“Here we go,” Phil muttered, and Bert climbed out of the back behind him.

Creaking my door open, I stepped out onto the asphalt, but it wasn’t black under my feet. The parking lot was grimy from months of melted slush and rainstorms, and what few vehicles were left in the lot were caked in layers of dirt.

I lifted my rifle out of the back of the truck and peered around, ensuring nothing looked strange or out of place. It was all the same as expected, desolate and quiet, save for the New Year’s Membership Sale banner that flapped in the breeze. The gym wasn’t where we’d hole up if we ever needed to, it would be the small secondary school down the street, but we didn’t want to have all of our supplies in one place, and the back room and outside storage container with old equipment was as good a place as any.

“I’ll sweep the interior,” I told them and glanced at Phil. “Start getting everything unloaded. We’ll make sure to get the canned food moved in first and out of the sun.”

“Then I’ll need help getting this diesel down,” Jackson said, glancing at Phil as they all began unloading.

I turned for the gym.

“Wait,” Sophie called, shutting the passenger door of the Explorer. “I’ll do a sweep with you.” She reached for her gun from the backseat, and hurried toward me.

“What’s that look for?” she asked, eyeing me as she walked past.

I gripped my rifle in front of me. “What look?”

“That look—the one that tells me you were about to tell me not to.”

“I wouldn’t dare tell you that you can’t do something,” I admitted and followed after her. “I know better than that.”

But Sophie didn’t believe me as she hurried toward the boxy fitness center. She was right not to, because my first instinct was to tell her I’d do it on my own. It wasn’t a giant gym or anything, but it was big enough that I didn’t want to worry about something happening to her if someone was inside.

Switching off my safety, I glanced around the parking lot one more time, at the towering apartment complex across the street and at the food outlet the next block over, then hurried inside after her with my rifle held tight in front of me.

Whitehorse was empty as far as we knew, but it was too big to patrol twenty-four seven. Instead, we relied on stale air and dust as an added security system. If someone opened a door, we’d be able to tell, and if something even skittered across the dusty floor, we’d be able to see it.

I raised my rifle as Sophie opened the glass door, and we stepped inside.

The city had been swept for survivors before we’d arrived in May, at least as much as Woody could handle between himself, Phil, and Stanley. Even if the wolves made rounds every so often, there was still the chance of drifters we might not be aware of.

I kept my eyes fixed as we surveyed the reception area. The overhead lights were off, but I made a mental note to turn off the Powerade fridge in the corner before we left, as well as the vending machine beside it. Even if we had the power, it seemed careless to waste it, and the less inviting everything remained, the better.

Sophie’s and my footsteps echoed against the cement floor as reception opened up into the main floor and machine room. There were a few mats placed sporadically around, but the warehouse-size space felt mostly vacuous and empty. Like the other buildings, the air was stale and musty inside, and the lingering moisture of winter and intermittent rain clung to the walls. It was far better than the stench of rot and decay that permeated the air for the first couple of months after the outbreak, but luckily too much time had passed for that now.

“Jesus—” I spat as our reflections in the wall mirrors lining the back of the room practically jumped out at me. We were barely lit by the muted daylight.

Sophie snickered and continued through the room, but my gaze lingered briefly on her reflection. She was no longer the wide-eyed angel I saw standing in the doorway of her apartment. Her gaze was fixed and determined, with her rifle aimed at the dark hallways as she made her way toward the aerobics room.

“I’ll take the locker rooms,” I whispered.

Sophie glanced over her shoulder with a nod as she continued down the hallway.

I veered off through the stair steppers and ellipticals, the rowing and weight machines, eyeing the half-formed boot prints on the dusty floors. They were left over from the guys’ first sweep months ago, and weeks of dust already covered part of their prints.

But as I drew closer to the locker room, I stopped short. A footprint, bare and much smaller—half the size of mine—headed the same way, then I saw another one. It wasn’t a fresh footprint, but the fact that it was there at all, small and not one of ours, made my heart beat harder and faster. A child’s? Something about the thought made my palms sweat.

I followed them into the women’s locker room until I saw another larger set of footprints, and not with tactical soles like the guys’.

“Sophie,” I rasped over my shoulder, unwilling to look anywhere but in front of me as I continued further inside. It was dark and dank, and I paused, straining to hear movement, even if my gut told me whoever had been there was long gone. When I spotted the light switch on the wall, I flicked it on and stepped quickly inside, aiming my gun around the tile and cement room.

I froze at the sink and stared at the body shriveled on the grouted floor. The woman had been dead long enough to rot and not smell anymore, but she wasn’t a skeleton. I stepped past her, forcing myself to clear the rest of the bathroom. I swept the shower stalls that lined the far wall and the toilet stalls that lined the other. I followed the footprints in a crazy mess throughout the horseshoe shaped space—the little prints overlapping the bigger ones, like someone had been running around in circles, scared.

Making my way back to the entrance, I sidestepped the body, determined to find Sophie, but I stopped at the door when a flash of faded color on the woman’s arm caught my eye. Tattoos. I looked at her body more closely. She had dark hair, which looked more like a mass of black string, splayed on the floor. Her jeans hung on protruding hip bones, and her torn, long sleeve shirt was pasted to her torso. There was no meat left on her body, no color in her leathery skin. She looked sun-dried and sunken in, but it was her sleeve of illegible tattoos that gripped me. Something felt . . . off.

I hadn’t thought of Bella Carson in a long time. She was a nineteen-year-old girl I’d sold Ritalin to when I was sixteen, an errand-favor for a friend, Harley. I’d needed extra cash for clothes, but I’d gotten far more than I’d signed up for.

The first time I met Bella, she was high as a kite, studying for a college exam. I’d left her with a dozen pills and when I returned a few days later with more, I’d found her convulsing on the floor of her apartment, her tattooed arms flailing around. I ran, scared and not wanting to get caught. I’d told Harley, needing to tell someone—anyone but the police, but she’d died sometime after.

Her death, just like my mother and stepfather’s, had felt like it was my fault, like I could’ve prevented it. Seeing the three of them in their final moments was nothing compared to how many dead bodies I’d seen since the outbreak, but somehow theirs were more horrifying and difficult to forget.

“Alex.” I heard Sophie’s rushed footsteps and held my hand back, feeling my fingers brush her arms. I didn’t want her to see the girl. At least, not until she expected it. Sophie stumbled back into the doorway.

“Soph, wait—”

“What? I—”

I pried my eyes from the woman’s body to Sophie as she shook her head, then her eyes rounded and her mouth clamped shut. She stared at me like she was waiting for me to say something. Then her brow furrowed and she looked down at my fingers clutching her arm.

Bella. Fuck. I silently cursed myself and dropped my hand, stepping out of her way. She probably saw all of the others too, because nothing could just be my horrible memory, not anymore.

I dragged my hand over my hair. The body on the floor was nothing compared to Bella’s flailing limbs and convulsing body as her eyes rolled back in her head. I stepped past Sophie, and headed for the machine room. “The locker room is clear,” I told her, hanging my rifle at my side.

“So is the aerobics room,” she whispered. “Alex—”

“Not now, Sophie.” I didn’t want to talk about Bella or have Sophie remind me once again that I could tell her anything. I didn’t want to talk about any of it, because I wanted to forget. Sophie would get an inside look at the horrors of my mind soon enough. For now, I just needed some air.

As I strode out of the building, I couldn’t help but glance at the surrounding apartment buildings. The woman had been dead in the locker room for a few months, at least. The question was, had she been there before, or had she shown up after Woody and the guys swept the building? And what had happened to her?

7

Sophie

After three months of sleeping in one of the cabins on my own, I trudged up the stairs with my things, finally moving into the house with the others. Elle had been insisting for a while that I’d be more comfortable inside, rather than out there on my own, and after what happened at the gym in Riverdale, I’d decided it was time.

I’d felt off since we’d left town, and not because I knew Alex might’ve had second thoughts about meeting with me. If he did, I wouldn’t be all that surprised. But it was something else—a fuzziness and sudden sense of exhaustion that I couldn’t shake. I assumed it was because of my dreams and sleepless nights, and Elle’s argument to sleep in the safety of the house won out in the end. The house was busy and alive, and I could use the distraction.

Thea’s hums were soft from her bedroom on the other side of the landing as I reached the top of the stairs. I glanced at her open doorway, content to know I’d be closer to her and Beau.

Turning left, I walked past Alex’s room and the bathroom, toward the last empty room at the end of the hall. I dropped my backpack in the doorway and stared into my “new” room.

Sunset pictures were framed and matted against the honey-colored accent wall. A leafless ficus was sadly situated in one corner, dead after months of neglect. The queen bed, though draped in white goose down and adorned with fringy, fluffy white pillows that might’ve once been clean and pristine, had an opaque hue of dust to them and looked forgotten. The windows were large, letting in the natural light of evening, providing a view of the jagged, snow-covered peaks of Mount Logan to the west.

It was the perfect room, in theory, and Alex had left it for me knowing as much. The writing desk was the dead giveaway, and I had a backpack filled with journals that would cover it soon enough.

I yawned, and considered plopping down on the dusty bed and drifting off to sleep, but I still needed to unpack the necessities, at least, and I had to meet Alex soon. I’d been waiting for time with him all day, especially after Riverdale, but now, as my mind grew heavy, I considered pleading for a raincheck. Not because I didn’t want to see him, but because I wanted to be present, completely present, for all of it. Whatever happened tonight would be a huge, defining moment in our relationship and I didn’t want to go into it with a foggy brain.

A door slammed open, and I glanced down the hall.

“Where are my markers?” Beau stomped into Thea’s room and loomed in her doorway. “I told you not to use them. You always forget to put the caps back on and they dry out.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh.” He stomped inside and rustled around. “Why are you always so annoying?” He walked back into his room with a Crayola case in his hand.

“I’m not annoying! You’re annoying!” Thea shouted back. “I wish I had a sister instead of a mean, stupid brother.”

Jackson and Elle’s bedroom door swung open at the end of the hall. “All right, you two.” Jackson walked out of the master bedroom, pulling his t-shirt down over his chest. “That’s enough.” He peered into Beau’s room first. His hair was wet and pulled back behind his head, his beard freshly trimmed.

“Thea keeps taking my things,” Beau tattled, his hands on his hips as he scowled at her.

“I just borrowed them,” she growled, as they matched each other glare for glare from their doorways. “Don’t have a hernia.”

Jackson and I looked at one another, both of us suppressing a laugh.

“I’m not having a hernia,” Beau quipped. “Besides, you don’t even know what that is.”

“Yeah-huh.”

“Nuh-uh—”

“All right,” Jackson said again, sweeping Thea up into his arms. I pursed my lips, strangely comforted to hear their bickering echoing through the house. It was full of life, and I had missed it.

Jackson stepped out of the hallway and onto the landing, and Thea shrieked with laughter as he swung her onto his back. “It’s time to help me with dinner.”

“Can we have potato chips?” She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. “And pizza. I want pizza.”

“I don’t know about pizza tonight, but I’ll see what I can do about sneaking you some potato chips.”

“Okay!”

“You can’t tell Elle, though. She likes to hoard them all for herself.”

Thea giggled again, and Jackson winked at me as he passed. “Welcome home, Soph,” he said. “There’s never a dull moment.”

I grinned, completely content.

“Come on, Beau! You get to pick a protein,” Jackson called up the stairs. Moose, I mused, or duck or caribou. But definitely not fish. Beau and Thea never picked fish.

“Coming!” Beau called, though he was less than enthused. “Come on, Luna,” his voice commanded more softly, and the black wolf trotted out of his room as he hurried to the stairs.

“I have some markers,” I told him, pointing to my backpack in the doorway behind me. “I’ll let you borrow them if you don’t tell anyone I have them.”

A smile crept between his lips, and with a nod, he headed down the stairs after Jackson and Thea to the kitchen.

As I turned for my room, I stopped just shy of Alex’s bedroom and peered inside. Fleetingly, I thought I was invading his privacy, but I was just looking. At least, that’s what I told myself as I stepped inside.

His blackout curtains were drawn, letting the evening sunlight in. A long-sleeve shirt was draped over the wooden chair in the corner, and his bed was perfectly made, with his boots, tennis shoes, and flip flops in a row underneath his queen-size bed pushed up against the wall.

My shoes wouldn’t be like that. Their place would be wherever they landed on my floor, and I thought of my mom having to pick up my things all the time. I liked my stuff a little messy. Maybe it was always in spite of my mom’s rigidity, or maybe I just liked the freedom of having a space of my own so that I could do whatever I wanted.

“Find something intriguing?” Elle said from Alex’s doorway. I glanced back to find her setting a stack of folded laundry on the foot of the bed.

My cheeks flushed, and I shrugged. “Just comparing,” I told her. “Everything in here has a place.”

“He’s very particular,” Elle agreed. “That’s why Jackson folds his laundry. They’re both that way.” She winked at me. “The kids don’t care how crappy I fold.”

I grinned, appreciating how real Elle was all the time. “I don’t care either. I say why bother anyway?”

Elle chuckled softly and threw her hands up. “Hey, I never claimed to be Mom material.” Her words sobered me a little and my smile settled into place.

“No, but you’re doing a really good job.” I wanted Elle to know that. She was the big sister I never had, and the closest thing to a mom Beau and Thea would ever have again, and she was better than any other friend we could’ve hoped for.

“Aw, thanks, Soph,” she whispered. “That means a lot, actually.” Her eyes shimmered a little, and she peered around Alex’s bedroom. “I guess when you move around a lot, you don’t have the luxury of getting too comfortable.” She stared at Alex’s backpack next to the chair in the corner.

“What is it?” I glanced around his room again, uncertain what her pensive expression was for.

Elle’s gaze refocused on me. “I just—you know how Alex always had a backpack by his bed in Slana, in case something happened and we needed to go?”

I nodded and stared at the canvas bag again, realizing it was the same one. “He still has it?”

Elle didn’t have to agree; I already knew what she was thinking. Whether it was to leave this place in a hurry if something happened, or to leave for another reason, he still had his bag, packed and ready to dash out the door by the looks of it. We all had bug-out bags, but this was different. This was Alex’s safety net. Even if it collected dust in the corner; he hadn’t felt at home enough to unpack it yet.

“I guess some things don’t change,” she whispered.

A thought occurred to me. “Do you still have candles in your nightstand?”

The corner of her mouth twitched and she smiled sheepishly. “Yes, I do, actually. I haven’t used them, but I have them there, just in case.”

I knew about Elle’s stepfather and what he’d done to her growing up. I knew about the sexual abuse and how she lived each day holding her breath in trepidation. She’d never told me about it, of course, because Elle tried to protect us from things that went bump in the night as much as she could, but I’d seen it in my dreams, even if they weren’t dreams at all, but her memories. Somehow the light had always made her feel safe, and maybe it still did.

“Do you still think about him?” I asked. I wondered about it some nights while I was lying in bed, imagining a young Elle wrapped in a robe under the blankets, miserable and sweating because she was so hot, but refusing to take the covers off—like the layers and the blankets would somehow protect her—fearing her stepfather would be standing in the doorway.

“No,” she said after a moment. “I don’t think about John. At least, not like I used to. When I think about Jenny, I sometimes think about our lives before, but it’s not the same.” Elle moved out of the doorway so I could step through.

“I’m glad you don’t worry about him anymore,” I told her. The last thing she needed were monsters from her past lingering when there were plenty of them roaming around the world now. I turned for my bedroom with a yawn and contemplated sneaking in a teensy-weensy nap before I met Alex.

“Sophie?” Elle’s voice was quiet and apprehensive, and I looked over my shoulder at her. “Was it bad? When they took Jenny, I mean. I’ve wondered about it since Whitely, but I’ve been too afraid to ask. It’s probably better not knowing, but it just—there’s this big question mark I can’t shake. I think it’s that I never got any closure or said goodbye.”

I thought about JJ convulsing on the stretcher in the hallway of the apartment complex, and the blood sprayed on the elevator walls as she choked for breath. “It wasn’t good,” I admitted. “But I don’t think she suffered for long.” At least, I hoped she hadn’t.

Elle seemed satisfied with that answer, or at least she didn’t want to press me further. “I’m going to grab one more load of laundry off the line, then help Jackson with dinner. Come down when you’re situated.” She turned for the stairs.

“Oh,” I said. “Alex and I might be late.”

Elle tilted her head with interest. “Late?”

“We’re going to practice tonight,” I told her, which was all the explanation Elle needed.

Her eyebrow rose slightly.

“I think he’s finally going to let me in.”

Although I didn’t talk about Alex much with Elle, she knew I was frustrated that he’d pushed me away. Her frequent, reassuring comments that he’d come around gave her away.

“I’m glad,” she said. “You two have been through a lot together. You need each other.”

Pursing my lips, I almost smiled because her words validated how I already felt, and it was good to hear that someone else thought the same way I did. It gave me hope that Alex might finally admit it too.

“Well, good luck.” Elle turned and plodded down the stairs. “And get some sleep tonight. You look zonked!” she called back.

I gathered my bag and pillow from the doorway and tossed them on the bed. Everything needed a little airing out, but with a little attention, it would be perfect. I stared longingly at my pillow, wondering if all of that could wait.

Gulping down some of the water from my bottle, I told myself to rally. As I unzipped my backpack, a truck engine rumbled up the gravel driveway. It sounded like Ross’s Chevy.

I walked over to the window and peered down at Ross and Phil climbing out of the truck. I wasn’t sure what was up, but our time between the lodge and the prison was generally scheduled to ensure we always knew where everyone was, especially with no word from Woody’s little bird, Nightingale, in weeks. All we knew was that Nightingale had alerted him about the General’s followers, the yellow bands, lurking in British Columbia a few months back—it was why Woody was so on edge when we’d first arrived. But he’d heard nothing since.

While no news was generally good news, it was still unnerving. Nightingale was generally good with monthly correspondence, but had gone dark. It was one of the reasons Elle was so apprehensive.

I wasn’t sure if Ross and Phil had good or bad news, but they had come for a reason, and I abandoned my stuff in my room and headed back down the hall to the stairs. I stifled another yawn, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. I was used to being tired, but it was becoming a chore to focus.

When I reached the living room, Jackson was at the sliding screen door, with Thea still hanging off of his back. “I’d be worried you’re here if it wasn’t almost dinnertime,” he jested. I stepped outside behind him as Phil and Ross came up the steps, and stifled another yawn.

“Dinner? Great, perfect timing then.” Phil’s smile grew to a grin when he saw me. “Oh, hey, Soph.”

I gave him an open-palmed wave. “Everything okay?”

Ross nodded out toward the pasture fence that stretched into the trees. “I came to see if the fence was still standing because you’re going to need it.”

It took me a moment to realize what he was saying. “Wait, what? You found some livestock?” I couldn’t help the excitement in my voice.

Ross nodded and waited for Phil to share the rest.

“I got to thinking about that dog today,” Phil started, and he leaned against the deck railing. “He was healthy-ish, and I wanted to know where he was going. After Riverdale, on my way to the prison, I made a detour and headed toward the edge of town, where that dog was heading.”

“And?”

“There’s a farm,” he explained, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smile. “There were three cows, though I don’t think one of them is going to make it. And while the other two aren’t in the best condition, the female—”

“Female?” Jackson clarified.

Phil’s grin grew. “Yep. She’s got a big pasture, and with all the rain, she’s had plenty to eat. The inside of the barn is torn to shit, and I’m sure that has something to do with a winter she survived, but they made it. And the dog—he must live in the garage there. There was dog hair everywhere, and probably twenty bags of kibble torn to shreds. It got them through for a while, at least.”

“How bad of shape are the cows in?” Jackson asked with less excitement.

“I don’t know. Woody might be able to give us a better idea.”

Thea climbed off of Jackson’s back and pulled the hem of her shirt down. “If it’s a girl, can we have milk again?”

“Maybe, squirt,” Phil said.

Ross nodded toward the pasture. “I figure we should get them as soon as we can. There’s no sense in letting them wander, or risk losing them. Not when the fence is ready.”

“Agreed.” Jackson pointed into the house. “Come on in, you can plan while I cook.”

Thea bounced her way back into the house, and Jackson and Ross filed in after her.

“Elle is going to be so excited,” I told Phil as we followed them inside.

“There were three goats, too,” he added. “They’ve chewed on just about every piece of wood in that damn barn, but they’re alive. There was a horse inside that didn’t make it though, he had no way out of his stall.”

I tried not to imagine what else might’ve been in there, and I changed the subject. “If they’re alive, I wonder how many other farms might have survived in those foothills.”

“I don’t know, but I was thinking we should make a list of all the locations we can check in that area.”

“Great idea.” I followed Phil into the living room, grabbing a spiral notebook and a pen off the side table, and curled up on the sectional across from him, anxious to get started. There was something I was forgetting, but as exhausted as I was, I was just happy to have something to focus on long enough to make it to dinner. If we could sustain a fully functioning farm before winter, so many of our concerns would be taken care of—dairy, methane, maybe even meat if we were ever in dire straits and needed it.

“Tell me,” I told him. “I want to know what else you found.”

8

Alex

Leaning against the side of the greenhouse, I removed my Canucks baseball cap, and wiped the sweat from my brow. At least the evening was cooling off, even if the sun was still in the sky.

“Thanks for getting that door in, Alex,” Elle said, dropping the last of the dry clothes into the laundry basket.

Phil’s contagious laughter echoed down from the deck, and I tried to ignore the fact that he was here again.

Elle walked around the greenhouse and stood beside me with the basket resting on her hip. She stared at the door with a quizzical expression.

“What’s wrong?”

Reaching forward, she closed it, jiggled the handle, then opened it again; testing it out like it might fall off the hinges or something.

“You know, I might not be a carpenter,” I admitted, “but I can install a door. You don’t have to check it.” I was only partially a joking.

Elle’s green eyes shined with amusement. “I’m not questioning your skills, Alex. I’m praying the weasels don’t know how to open it is all.” She closed the door with a satisfied sigh and glanced back at me. “Unless those critters drop in through the roof tonight, we might get a reprieve from their terror.”

“I dunno. They’re pretty determined.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll get the greenhouse finished this week. Then it will be critter-proof.”

“I know we will.” She winked at me and glanced toward the house. “I’m going to see what Ross is here for.” Jackson’s deep chuckle reached our ears. “And make sure dinner gets made,” she said wryly.

“Sounds good.”

She headed toward the mudroom, and I turned on the hose. It was time to wash the day’s sweat and grime off me, a temporary fix until I could squeeze in a shower. And if I was honest, I could use a good cool down before I met up with Sophie at the rock. Especially after what happened in Riverdale. Finding dead bodies didn’t get easier for me, even if I thought it would’ve by now, and I had a gut feeling everything Sophie saw in my mind today would likely be brought up again too.

Holding my breath, I rinsed off my face and ran my hand over my head. The water was cool as it poured over me, and I could taste the salt on my lips. At least there was plenty to do to keep busy, which kept me from stewing all the time. Wiping my eyes with my shoulder sleeve, I shut the hose off. After tonight, though, I imagined I’d have plenty to stew about.

With a deep breath, I tugged my cap back on and headed across the property, past the outbuildings that flanked the far end of the house and toward the tree line. The river’s constant whir on the other side was predictable, and I needed that right now—certainty and familiarity, because my stomach was in giant knots.

It was worse than any first day at a new school, or sitting across from my probation officer, awaiting punishment. All of that had just been part of my life, the everyday bullshit I’d grown used to. It had never scared me, not like this. Nobody ever cared enough to get so close, and it scared the shit out of me.

Sophie was my blurry line—my “hopeful maybe” that I felt an undeniable connection to, despite knowing that anything between us would be like navigating a minefield. How could it not be when every touch or conversation was a trigger? One wrong move and everything would detonate, and I hated to risk what was currently a bearable relationship, on what could be. Whether it was to become closer friends or, dare I think it, something more—whatever Sophie wanted would come at a cost.

All the death and loss that had resulted from the outbreak was easier for me to accept than it was for everyone else, because I didn’t have anything important to me left to lose. Not like Elle, who still mourned her sister; Sophie, who mourned her mom; and Jackson who’d lost his entire family. Instead, I’d gained a family. The only person I missed was my grandmother, and I’d lost her years ago.

I felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of her raspy chuckle. It was the white noise I fell asleep to on her couch, watching reruns of The Golden Girls—Blanche had been her favorite.

For me, this wasn’t a second chance, it was my one chance, and my chest ached with an overwhelming feeling I had sometimes, the feeling that the bottom would drop out again soon, and I’d do something to lose it. Whatever Sophie and I were, I didn’t trust myself not to screw things up once I let her see the real me.

I couldn’t help listening to the small voice in the back of my head, which told me that no matter how much I wanted this to work, it might not. Sophie might get more than she bargained for when my Ability amplified hers. My palms were sweating imagining Sophie freely inside my mind and it occurred to me that I might regret what I was about to do, just like I’d regretted so many other things, and I didn’t ever want Sophie to be a regret. But I couldn’t stand to see that look on her face, like I saw every time I pulled away—the sadness and the hurt.

When I got to the rock, it was empty, but I knew Sophie was inside, settling into her room. I was glad she was moving into the house. It hadn’t felt right knowing she was out there, away from all of us. Regardless of what happened today, I might at least be able to sleep a little better, knowing she was closer.

Leaning against the boulder, I told myself to stop spiraling and shut it all down—all the fear and anxiety. I was doing this. I’d already told Sophie I would, and it was all she’d ever really asked me for.

She was my rock, even if I never told her that. We’d been through everything together, from the very beginning. Even if she didn’t know it, she pushed me to be stronger and I had to be that for her. I liked being that for her. I wanted her to trust me and rely on me, the same way she wanted me to trust her.

After a few more agonizing minutes, I began to pace. If I could amplify what she could do, I would see all of Sophie too, and I felt a strange mixture of intrigue and discomfort, knowing we’d both be an open book.

I glanced toward the house. The longer I paced, the more I questioned whether or not she was even coming. The sun was sinking lower, and it felt like nearly an hour had gone by. The realization I might’ve been stewing for nothing stung a little and I tried not to be annoyed. Then, it dawned on me that something might be wrong.

“Shit.” With a long stride and determined footsteps, I hurried back to the house. Here I was pacing around like an asshole, while Ross and Phil were back. If they were back, it meant they must’ve had news.

It couldn’t be bad news, right? Phil had seemed as carefree as ever, standing on the deck. I broke into a jog. Something came up at the hydro plant, maybe? Issues with power meant our reinforced, state-of-the-art prison was useless to us. Maybe Woody had finally gotten word from Nightingale about movement in the lower forty-eight.

That didn’t seem likely as I rounded the lodge and hurried up the deck steps, chastising myself for being a damn idiot. Everyone was inside, probably having a meeting, and I was late to the party.

When I slid the screen door open, I stopped in the doorway.

There was chatter and clanking pans in the kitchen, but only Phil and Sophie were in the living room, Sophie grinning on the sectional, a notebook in her hand. Her eyes enlivened as she looked at me. “Hey, they found some livestock—cows even,” she said happily.

My heart sank as I looked from her smiling eyes to Phil’s, and then my blood began to boil. “Cows?”

Phil nodded. “Cool, huh?”

Cool? I was losing my mind out there and she was curled up inside, laughing with Phil.

Sophie’s eyes lit with sudden realization, and she opened her mouth and jumped to her feet. “Shit, Alex—” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I forgot. I was on my way out there and I just . . . I—I don’t know how I could forget.” She blinked worriedly at me.

As apologetic as she looked, my pride wouldn’t let the reality of her forgetting me for Phil simply fade away. “Don’t worry about it,” I told her, and headed for the stairs. “I need a shower anyway.” I took the steps two at a time and couldn’t get away from either of them fast enough.

Sophie had stood me up for Phil. And a cow.

* * *

I tried to sleep, but it was pointless. My head hurt from thinking too much, and every time I closed my eyes, I saw Sophie’s face as she’d stood in her bedroom doorway before bed.

“I’m so sorry, Alex. My mind was fuzzy, I think I was just super tired. You know that’s not like me.”

No, it wasn’t like her, at least not like the Sophie I knew when Phil wasn’t around. I saw the regret in her eyes, I even heard it in her voice, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. All of the anxious mind chatter I’d waded through all day—all of my apprehension—had been for nothing. I’d talked myself into it for nothing.

Still, I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to hate Phil for being her distraction, but even then, all I could focus on was my wounded, stupid ego. I didn’t want Phil to matter, but he did. I wasn’t dense, I knew I needed to get used to him, but still, I’d wanted to matter to her more.

I’m not sure how long I was lying in bed before I heard murmuring in Sophie’s room. I sat up, but couldn’t make out her words as I strained to listen.

Pulling the blankets off, I climbed out of bed. Listening. Waiting for footsteps or another voice, but the house was quiet again. I was about to crawl back into bed, when I heard another muffled sound.

I opened my door and stepped out into the hall. Everything was dark, and Sophie’s bedroom door was closed, but I stepped closer to listen.

Her murmurs were quiet, and I could barely hear them through the door.

“Soph,” I whispered. Suddenly, she cried out, and I flicked the hall light on and flung her door open.

Sophie’s outline shook beneath her blankets as I ran over. She was asleep, and I wanted to wake her, but I hesitated. There was something intimate and strange, seeing her so unaware.

When she whimpered, I leaned closer. “Sophie?” Shadows from the hall played over her face as she frowned. “Sophie,” I said more firmly. I wanted to shake her awake, but was reluctant to touch her. “Soph—”

Finally, her eyes peeled sleepily open.

“Phil . . .” she whispered, and my heart shuddered to a stop and my blood ran cold.

I struggled to find my tongue again. “No, it’s Alex.” I clutched her blanket in my fist. “You were having a bad dream . . . I think.”

Sophie’s eyes flitted closed again, and she turned to her side, oblivious to my standing there. She didn’t make another sound as she fell back to sleep. Once again, I was left with the sour burn of disappointment, and Phil’s name, hanging in the air between us.

9

Elle

“How much do cows eat, anyway?” Beau asked as we loaded the goat pellets into the back of the Tacoma. The truck bed squeaked as he propped one sack up against another to help me make more room.

“A lot. But they’ll graze on the grass while it’s growing. And, if we can get them to have a baby, we’ll have to feed them even more.”

“A baby!” Thea chirped.

“Hopefully.” I nodded to the truck, loaded with sacks of grain, pellets, and vitamin supplements. “But it’s after summer and fall that we need to think about, and food for all the animals, when the ground freezes and things will stop growing for them to eat.”

“What about the goats?”

I smiled, grateful Phil and Ross had found a few of them too. “Goats will eat just about anything. But this will tide us over for a bit.” We weren’t exactly ready for livestock, but we could stock up on enough food for now, and consider long term plans later. More than anything, we wanted to keep the animals alive; I doubted they’d last through another winter without our help.

Beau nodded. “We’ll get them settled in before winter comes,” Beau said, and he seemed perfectly content with that, happy even, which was reassuring. It was difficult to know what went on in his head sometimes, and I was grateful for the small things that made him smile.

“Exactly.” I slammed the tailgate shut. Beau’s affection for animals made sense since he communicated differently with them, especially with the wolves. I imagined he had a respect for all animals now.

“Hey, Beau,” I asked, as a question I’d thought about a dozen times popped into my head. “Does it bother you, eating moose and caribou, or any animals, now that, you know . . .” I glanced at Luna panting by his side. Beau had never said anything, but I also tried to imagine having a connection with animals and then seeing them on my dinner plate.

Beau shrugged. “No, not really.”

“Are you sure, because you don’t have to eat everything we eat. We can figure something else out.”

He jumped over the side of the truck bed, landing in the gravel with a thud. “The wolves eat caribou,” he explained. “I guess it’s just the way life is. We have to eat to survive.” He glanced at Luna, waiting patiently for a quick pet beside him. Beau scratched behind her ears, and her eyes flitted closed, then he looked at me. “It’s not like I can talk to other animals anyway. Only the wolves.” I could see him trying to work it out in his head, and I could tell he’d thought about that part of it before. “I’m not sure why,” he said more quietly.

“Well, if it ever starts to bother you, or if you have questions or something, you’ll tell me, right?”

Beau shrugged. “Sure.”

“Will you promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

“All right then.” I peered down the dirt road that led back to the highway. The good thing about a sprawling city was not always having to go into the city to find what you needed. The old feed store was on the fringe of Whitehorse, where there was more land than road.

I grinned as my eyes landed on a hidden find. “Do you see that?” I glanced at Beau.

He squinted toward the road. “See what, bushes?”

“Not just bushes, Beau. Raspberry bushes.” I was unable to hide my gaiety. Raspberries were my favorite; they had been since I was a little girl. It conjured some of the few happy memories I had, picking berries with Jenny up on the hill by the house in the summertime. “Come on, get your sister,” I said. “We need all the fingers we have to fill the baskets.”

Beau turned for the feed store. “Thea, come on,” he grumbled. “We have to pick berries.” He made his way inside with Luna trotting in beside him. Beau was her human, I realized, if, like dogs, wolves had humans. She was always at his side, and maybe even looked at him as one of her pups. But while the others remained more like wild wolves, living on the periphery of our lives, Luna, Little Foot, and sometimes Rocky, were very constant.

“Thea, come on,” he grumbled again from inside. Clearly Beau wasn’t as excited as I was about berry picking, but he’d appreciate eating the jam when we were finished with it.

“I’m coming!” she shouted back.

“Grab some extra containers for the berries!” I called. “We’re going to need them.” As I turned for the bushes, I noticed footprints in the gravel next to my feet. Thea’s shoe prints were small next to mine, smaller than I realized, actually. I smiled.

Ross was right, even if we were sometimes afraid and still had hurdles, we were also lucky. I went from having only an estranged sister, to a whole clan.

Tightening my ponytail, grateful to have my hair off my neck in the heat, I headed over to the raspberry bush tucked just off the road. It was lush and brimming with red berries, though some of the exposed fruit had been picked away at by the birds. Deeper in, in the thick of the green, were dozens of velvety leaves and bursts of red.

Eagerly, I reached in to grab one. Perfection. I popped it into my mouth, enjoying the soft sweetness against my tongue, then I reached for another. Nothing I owned wasn’t already stained or tattered in some way, so I lifted the hem of my tank top for a makeshift basket, crouched down on my knees, and began to gather what I could reach.

“You guys are missing out!” I called. Berries were everywhere, and the more I picked, the heavier my harvest became. I could feel my shirt stretching, and could see the red juice seeping into the yellow fabric of my top, but I didn’t care as I popped another berry into my mouth.

For every handful I picked, a few made their way into my mouth, and the deeper I reached, the more I found. I heard soft footsteps in the gravel and felt a shift in the air behind me, and smiled. “I should let one of you crawl in here.” I tried not to crush the mound of berries weighing down my shirt as I collected the last few that I could reach. “You can pick the ones I can’t.”

Filled to capacity, I pulled out of the bush and turned around, but no one was standing there.

A chill ran down my spine. “Thea?” I glanced at the truck in the empty lot and then into the doorway of the store as Beau, Luna, Little Foot, and Thea came out. Beau and Thea each had a giant feed scoop in their hands.

“Will these work?” Beau asked, walking closer.

I stared between them.

“What?” Beau’s head tilted to the side. “There are metal buckets, if you want.”

I held up my hand. “I could’ve sworn one of you was out here already.”

Beau and Thea looked at me like I was crazy, and maybe I was. “I heard something . . .” I glanced around. “One of you was standing here.”

Beau pointed to the finch on the branch a few yards from me. “Maybe it was the birds,” he said. I looked at Luna who seemed as bored as Beau was. If someone had been here, she would know. But even as I told myself I was just mistaken, the certainty I’d had seconds ago lingered. There was a shadow . . . Wasn’t there? And I’d heard footsteps. I glared at the little finch hopping along in the gravel.

Thea’s brow creased with worry, and I realized I was acting crazy. “You’re right,” I said, rising to my feet. “It was the birds. You two are such slowpokes. Look how many berries I already have. Can you two sneak in there and get those ones I can’t reach, please?”

“I want to go into the bush cave first,” Thea declared, and she brushed past Beau and crawled inside.

“Whatever,” he muttered. Beau was nothing if not predictable.

The day instantly grayed as a cloud drifted in front of the sun, and I peered up at it. The shadow could’ve been a trick the sky was playing on me, even if that didn’t feel right either.

I glanced around at the lot again, looking for something else that might’ve been amiss, but there was nothing I could see. Save for the wolves, the kids, and our new finch friend, we appeared to be alone.

“We’ll just fill these up and head home,” I told them, keeping my eyes on the wild grasses and woods surrounding the vacant lot. Even if I was making something out of nothing, it was a reminder not to let my guard down.

Refusing to leave the kids, I clenched my shirt-basket tighter in my hand and felt for my holstered pistol with the other, reassuring myself it was there.

10

Alex

I stared up at the steel-sided behemoth that peeked out from behind the metal wall surrounding the prison. How do you reinforce a state-of-the-art correctional facility whose entire front three stories are bulletproof—but not Ability proof—glass? You spend countless days of backbreaking work, hauling tons of steel over from the scrap yard, and you use hundreds of gallons of fuel to power cranes that can lift beams and sheet metal nearly fifty feet over your head . . . Unless you can get your seven-year-old, pseudo-sister to use her telekinesis.

Between Bert making sure we had working lifts, Thea’s mental brawn, and my Ability’s extra oomph, we’d been able to tackle the
big, grueling prison project in a matter of weeks, not months.

After weeks of scavenging tools and extra rechargeable batteries, finding the scrap material we needed, sketching blueprints, researching structure retrofitting and foundation restrictions—in case we decide to add underground tunnels later—and super charging the electric fence, the prison had become the fortress Ross had imagined three months ago, save for the drawbridge and moat.

The CB radio in the truck clicked on. “Hey, Hot Stuff, where you at?” I rolled my eyes at the unfortunate handle I’d been stuck with, thanks to my penchant for spicy foods.

“Pulling up to the gate now. You gonna let me in?” While Bert and Stanley got monikers like Dozer, for Bert’s mechanical inclinations, and Uno, for Stanley’s inability to say the word instead of shout it when he played the game with Thea, I got the nickname that made the others nearly piss their pants with amusement every time they heard it.

The steel gate rumbled and rolled open, and I pulled the Tacoma inside the walls of the prison, parking between Woody’s Blazer and Bert’s van. I assumed Ross’s truck was around back, and I knew Elle, Beau, and Thea were out getting animal feed; so as usual, I seemed to be the last to arrive.

I climbed out of the truck, glancing up at the darkening afternoon sky, and wondered exactly what it was that Ross needed to talk to us about. The gate rumbled closed again, and I peered down the dirt road, to the row of spruce and pine trees that lined the highway. We were hidden, unless you already knew we were there; and even if we couldn’t protect ourselves from every single Ability mutation, we could at least stand a chance now, and put up one helluva fight.

Ross rounded the corner of the building, the bill of his baseball cap covering his eyes.

“What’s going on?” I asked him. He looked at me, but said nothing. “Where is everyone else?”

Ross glanced up at the sun, like he was trying to gauge what time it was, then shook his head. “Uh, Sophie’s in the cafeteria, practicing with Stanley and Phil, I think.”

Of course she was.

His gaze darted to me, then he pulled the steel-paneled door open for us to walk inside. I peered up at the darkened windows of the prison’s entryway. The facility was a thousand times nicer than any place I’d ever been in, but had the same feel to it. Even the shiny, modern finishes—the birchwood desks and spacious welcome lounge—couldn’t stave off the chill of my four visits to juvie. It was just as vacuous inside, and the squeak of the door and our heavy footsteps echoed as we walked through the reception area. Echoing footsteps had always been an ominous sound.

We walked past the processing and booking rooms, which were used as storage, toward the first cellblock. The first wing was our main area of operation; it included Stanley and Woody’s offices; three stories of cells, where we all had a room to sleep in when we stayed; the cafeteria; and a small, covered fitness quad, where we ate lunch and dinner on the nights we stayed late working.

“What do you think about the metal siding?” I asked, glancing up to the covered windows. The only natural light coming in these days was what filtered in through the seams in our reinforcements. “What’s left to finish, the back of the building?”

Ross didn’t answer at first, which I would’ve attributed to him not hearing me, but he scratched his jaw, distracted.

“What is it?”

“I think we’re getting sidetracked,” Ross said as we walked through the double doors toward the cafeteria. The stark white walls reminded me of the first time I was hauled in after being truant from school for three days. Probation was fussy like that.

“And I think,” he continued, “we’re spending a lot of time trying to prepare for a maybe.”

His words surprised me, and irritated me a little. “Are you for real?” We’d worked our asses off and this had been his idea to begin with—staying here, making this place the fortress he wanted.

“You know as well as I do, this could all be for nothing. The General’s yellow bands, or black bands, or whatever the hell bands he has now might come looking for survivors, but they might not give a rat’s ass about us either.”

I stopped, uncertain of what, exactly, I was hearing. “And if he does and we’re not ready?” I shook my head. “Where the hell is this coming from all of a sudden? This is what you wanted.”

“Yeah, well,” Ross nodded for us to keep walking, “It took us nearly two months to get this far, imagine how quickly it could be torn apart by an entire army of mutants.”

“Wow, you’re a ray of fucking sunshine today,” I grumbled. “Are you going to give Jackson and Woody that pep talk when we get in there, and really brighten everyone’s day? Or am I the only lucky one?” Ross didn’t seem drunk, and that’s when he was the most brutally honest, so I was beginning to worry he knew something we didn’t.

I clamped my hand on his shoulder, and forced him to stop and look at me.

Ross was about six feet tall, with shoulders a bit broader than mine, but otherwise the same size as me; and I looked at him right in his baby blues. “What’s going on? It’s too early in the day to start off with this doom and gloom crap. That’s Woody’s job anyway.”

Ross took his cap off, dusting it off on his knee, then met my gaze with hesitation. “The water level is dropping.”

There was only one reason I could think of as to why the river level would matter. “Is this about the hydro plant?”

Ross stared at me without answering.

“What’s that mean, exactly? Because clearly it’s not good.” The natural rush of the water kept the turbines circulating and the power grid working, that much I knew. “It’s not like the river dries up.” But as the words sank in, I realized I wasn’t entirely sure that was true. A lead weight dropped in the pit of my stomach. “Does it?”

“With less glacier runoff, the water isn’t rushing like it was, and without the high water level and the current—”

“There’s not enough to drive the turbines.” I had learned about water and wind power in fifth grade, I did a science fair project about it, actually. I was proud, until no one came to see it on Science Fair Day.

I imagined a pool of water collecting around the engines at the energy plant, stagnant and useless. We’d only been in Whitehorse for the spring and summer, when everything was wet and melting.

“But, what about the rain we’ve been having?”

Ross shook his head. “It’s going to stop eventually. The river won’t freeze, but if it’s too low, the plant will stop functioning.”

If Ross was right, no power meant the prison wasn’t as fortified as we’d thought; the locks weren’t as reliable or strong, and the alarm and camera systems weren’t operational. I imagined Woody and Stanley’s little command center dark and utterly useless.

We’d spent nearly three months working on the prison, leaving the house a second priority. We hadn’t prepared for a winter without electricity. “Shit. Wait—that makes no sense, though. What’d the plant workers used to do from October to March?”

“By the looks of it, they used those massive, rusty fuel-injected backup generators we wrote off to pull the extra weight when the water got too low.”

“But . . . generators need fuel.” I leaned against the wall. Fuel wasn’t something we could rely on for much longer. Quantity wasn’t the problem; there was a ton of it since there wasn’t much use for it anymore. It was quality that was questionable, and even if the fuel were stored in the best possible conditions, and with enough stabilizers to zap out every imperfection, the shelf life would only last so long. We’d be taking a huge risk relying on it.

Ross crossed his arms over his chest and heaved out a breath.

“You have a brilliant plan, right? You and Bert have thought of something, and you’re just making me squirm.”

He started back down the hallway again like he didn’t want to answer that. He passed Woody and Stanley’s offices, and headed toward the cafeteria.

“Ross?”

“Not yet, but we need to come up with one soon.”

11

Sophie

I was Stanley again, and sat in Woody’s cluttered office, wishing he would clean the damn thing for once. He would be much more productive without having to search for notes and schematics—the things his mind never shut off about. He would be less scatterbrained and more grounded.

He poured two fingers of scotch into a glass, and I took in the dark circles beneath his shadowed blue eyes, wishing he would listen to me when I told him he needed to take better care of himself. For all of our sakes. For mine.

I cleared my throat. “Statistics show that 83 percent of people who are organized are less distracted when it comes to—”

“Stanley,” Woody groaned. “Not now, please? Here—” He pushed the glass across his desk to me. “Have a drink, and give that brilliant brain of yours a rest.” Woody’s eyes held mine, like it was more of a plea than a request.

He didn’t like me worrying about him, but what Woody didn’t realize was that someone needed to worry about him, because he was always worried about everyone else and the bigger picture. He’d been alone for too long before he’d found Phil and my coming to find him. He seemed to forget we needed him, like I knew he needed us.

The memory felt strangely intimate, and I tried to move past it, but it clung to me as my cerebral fingers searched for something that wasn’t about the General, knowing I didn’t need more of that to dream about at the moment.

Woody looked down at the second glass he began to fill. “So, what do you think of the new arrivals? That Elle’s got a bit of fire in her, doesn’t she?” Realizing his own pun, he chuckled, and held his glass up to mine. “If we’re going to have any sort of establishment in Whitehorse, we’ll need good people. Honest people. People who don’t know about or want anything to do with Gregory.” Yes, troublesome Gregory Herodson. The bringer of doom and dark fates. The heartless son of a bitch who—

“Stanley?”

Clearing my throat, I lifted my scotch to Woody’s, then took a drink. His eyes didn’t leave me as he knocked back the contents of his glass.

I, on the other hand, hesitated before taking a large swallow. The scotch was hot going down my throat, and until I’d met Woody, I wasn’t sure I’d ever even had it before. The General never let me consume anything other than infused vitamin drinks to ensure my health, coffee on the days I was commanded to work more than twelve hours, and water.

From what little I could remember about myself from before the outbreak, I’d never been much of a drinker. But around Woody, I indulged for reasons I was only just beginning to understand. It helped with the nerves. It helped with the incessant hum I felt when he was around me.

“So?” Woody hedged.

“What?” I took another sip of my scotch.

Sitting back into his seat, Woody clasped his hands in his lap and smiled ever so slightly. “The new arrivals,” he reminded me in a soft voice.

That was one thing Woody never was: cruel, or short with me when my mind wandered or spun a million miles a minute. Side effects, I assumed, from an unknown number of mind-wipes and control sessions. Because that’s what Herodson did, he controlled people’s minds.

“I think they are honorable,” I told him. “But you already know that.”

“Yes, I do. Thanks to you. But what do you think of adding a whole brood to our humble little family.” Woody meant Phil, him, and me—all of us strangers until a couple months ago. Phil had been with Woody since December. I’d only started hoping the whisper of the crazy man whose name I’d heard circulating around the Colony was more than a rumor—the one that got away from the General years ago—before I finally got away myself.

If I could trust anyone, I knew it would be Woody, the man who tried to warn the world about what we couldn’t see, and everyone scoffed at him.

“I think they are a welcome addition. If they will forgive you—if they can trust us—they will be useful.”

I felt a warmth spread through me, into my chest and cheeks.

“What if he finds us here?” I whispered. “If the woman does what you said she can do, if they all do what Phil says they can do,” I added in a rush, “then they are important to us. They can help keep us safe from him—we need them—”

“Stanley,” Woody said, his voice almost tender. He reached his hand out to cover mine.

I stared at it, at the heat of his palm on my clenched fist that relaxed beneath his touch.

“Even if Gregory came here himself, I would protect you. He’d have no power here.” He pointed to his mind. “You’re safe.” I swallowed as warmth blazed in my chest and palms, and I forced myself to look into his blue eyes. They grounded me when they were steady, which was rare, and I believed that Woody would do whatever he could for all of us, for me. There was something that bound us together, even though I couldn’t explain it.

I forced the memory away this time and looked for another, less worrisome memory amidst the dark shadows of Stanley’s mind. I didn’t want to feel the fear, so I was going to stop practicing until I saw more gray and reached for the memory.

I walked down the aisle of a warehouse among a group of soldiers, a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and straight shoulders walking in front of us. It was General Herodson.

I knew his stance all too well from Stanley’s memories, and my apprehension and fear were an acrid taste in the back of my throat. While I didn’t feel the fear in Stanley as I had before, I knew any memory of the General would be a disturbing one, so I braced myself.

“Atwell!” The General called to a large man, built like a semi, crouched in the shadows beside boxes of inventory tucked in the aisleway. He looked guilty the moment he turned around, and I wanted to tell him not to lie, whatever he’d done, because he’d already been caught. “How is your patrol going this evening?” General Herodson’s voice was sharp and clear, a tone commanding every ounce of attention from everyone working in the warehouse.

“Nothing unusual, Sir,” Atwell reported, stepping away from the shadows. It was his first lie.

Even if I hadn’t known the timid girl from Atwell’s past was planted there as a test, I knew innately that Atwell was lying and afraid. I could feel it, like thick smoke in my lungs, oppressive and thick.

“How are the Ability transfers going?” he asked, as if more questions would keep the General distracted.

The General eyed him carefully, the twitch of his trimmed mustache the only indication he was displeased, but Atwell didn’t know him well enough to notice.

“Have there been any new developments?” the soldier continued. “I know some of the men would like to get outfitted with Regeneration or Telekinesis.” They were Abilities that would never be his to hone.

I detected Atwell’s heart rate spike, and I could see the sheen of sweat on his brow. An unexpected hatred poured out of him that I could feel in the air around me, a humming that brushed the tiny hairs on my skin. It was in the shrewd glint of his eye and the tightness of his jaw that indicated he was barely holding it together. This was his admissions test into the elite, and Atwell had failed.

The General took his time to respond, and finally clasped his hands behind his back. “Not yet, no. However,” he said smugly, “we have had an interesting breakthrough on another project. We’re calling them ‘Re-gens’—they’re reanimated corpses, more or less. They even retain their Abilities, though they’re altered somewhat from what they were during their first lives.”

Though I remained quiet, the slender girl in the shadows was watching the conversation before me unfold like she was both curious and afraid.

“The process wipes their minds completely clean,” the General continued, “making them very easy to influence. No need to deal with pesky memories or morals.” He eyed Atwell a moment longer, then cleared his throat. “As you were,” he said with a nod, and we took a few more steps down the aisle, before the General paused. He smiled to himself, and turned his head toward the girl in the shadows.

“CL-01,” the General called. And like a daisy popping up to reach the sunlight, she stepped out at the General’s beckon.

Atwell’s eyes narrowed on the girl he’d been trying to hide.

“Come here, CL-01.” The pale girl stepped into the aisleway. She looked from the General to Atwell, whose face was heavy with dread. CL-01 was young and of Asian descent, and she looked far too innocent to be in a place like this. My heart ached for her.

She walked slowly toward the soldier.

“CL-01 is a particularly amazing Re-gen, don’t you agree, Atwell? We just finished her the other day.” The General’s voice hardened as he eyed the liar standing in front of him with disdain. “Take their weapons, my dear.”

As I tried to pull away, I saw a flicker of Atwell’s face, only this time he was strapped to a chair, and I couldn’t bring myself to leave the memory behind.

I was in the Colony again, in a laboratory with the General standing in front of me, and the female doctor with teal eyes standing beside him. She wore a white lab coat and held a stack of manila files to her chest.

“Darling,” the General said to her, and he pointed to a bald doctor hunched over the machine Atwell was wired to with a large dial, and blinking, flat buttons. “Did you want to check on Dr. Maxwell’s progress?”

Dr. Maxwell fumbled with his pen and cleared his throat as he looked up from his notes. “Oh—um—yes, of course, Dr. Wesley.” As he stepped out of the way, she shook her head.

“No, please. I don’t wish to interfere. I just wanted see how things were going.” I couldn’t look away from Atwell, strapped into the chair with wires attached to his forehead. His face was slackened, his skin ashen, and his head lulled to the side.

“Fabulous, actually. You’ve come just in time. I’ve discovered the higher the electrotherapy, the stronger the Re-gens’ Abilities become. In his case, it’s his strength, so far as I can tell. He’s only growing stronger.”

A knot thickened in my stomach, knowing the soldier was only a shell of who he once was.

With a thick, lifted brow, the General peered back at me, waiting for a confirmation that the doctor’s claims were true. I—Stanley—nodded.

“Good,” the General said. “Just as you suspected then, my dear.” Pleased, the General reached up and stroked Dr. Wesley’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. She flinched imperceptivity at his touch, though her eyes gave nothing away.

“However,” the General continued, and glanced from Atwell to Dr. Maxwell. “Let’s keep the electrotherapy at a minimum, shall we? I don’t want the Re-gens getting too powerful.”

“Right. Of course, sir.” Dr. Maxwell licked his lips. “It’s MA-01’s daily electrotherapy application. Would you like to watch? I’ll turn the voltage down, of course, per your instruction.”

Herodson dipped his chin in answer, and with a single, curt nod, Dr. Maxwell smiled, and turned around to flip a switch. The machine hummed to life. When Dr. Maxwell spun the large dial slightly, Atwell’s eyes snapped open and a high-pitched cry tore from his throat.

“Miss Sophie?”

There was a bright flare in my mind’s eye, and Atwell, the General, and both doctors flashed to nothingness.

Opening my eyes, I blinked at Stanley, his slender frame prominent in the white expanse of the cafeteria. I let go of his hands and grounded myself back into the room. It was large and stark, with only long tables and attached bench seats that squeaked with every movement, though I could barely hear it over the sound of my thrumming heartbeat.

I wiped my hands on the thigh of my jeans and wanted to unknow everything, for a little while, at least. Science was something I used to like; now it was as if I’d seen behind the curtains and I could never look at it the same way again. Not a single one of Stanley’s memories seemed to be good, and right now, I needed something less frightening than wretched souls, mutant experiments, and tyrants to think about.

Searching Thea’s mind that night at the Ranskins’—trying to uncover what she and Beau were hiding—was one thing. I’d learned to grab hold of a single thread of what I was looking for and pull it closer. But in Stanley’s mind, it was too mangled and messy. Nothing was clear or easy to navigate, and I knew the General’s evil doctors were to thank for that.

“I think I need a break,” I told him.

His pointy chin dipped, waiting and expectant. I ignored the memory of his conversation with Woody, and thought of Atwell. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine.”

Stanley’s brow furrowed slightly, like he was trying to decide if he believed me.

“I didn’t see colors,” I explained further. “Only shadows. I’ve had enough of those memories for a while.”

“Ah, yes. The colors. Well, I can’t say I’m very surprised. Perhaps you should practice with someone whose mind is untouched and a bit more . . . manageable.”

“That cancels just about everyone out,” Phil jested from the bench behind me. I couldn’t help but wonder if Alex would’ve been curious enough to sit behind me while I practiced, had last night gone the way I’d intended. Maybe I’d even be sitting with him now, and we’d be practicing together.

Regardless, he’d hate it. I still struggled to move beyond the memories and emotions that pulsed the brightest, no matter their colors, and those tended to be the worst ones. “I need to practice with Thea. At least then I’ll get to play with frogs and eat honey all day.”

Stanley’s lip curved a little, and I could tell he wanted to smile; he and I both knew no matter what jokes were made, there was no playing down the truth. Horrible, terrifying things had happened, and more than anything, I knew now we were the lucky ones in the scheme of things, no matter what came next.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Miss Sophie?” Stanley dipped his chin again, eyeing me closely.

I scoffed. “Yeah. I’m fine.” The question should’ve been: how could Stanley be after everything he’d been through?

“Because, I could feel your fear this time.” Stanley lifted an eyebrow, waiting for his words to sink in.

“Wait—you what?”

With a curious grin, he nodded. “I could feel it, like it was my own—but it wasn’t, it was yours.”

“But . . .” I knew that whatever had happened to me last night, whatever fuzziness was in my head, was because of my Ability. It was the only thing that made sense, and this proved it. “It’s changing again, isn’t it?” I was as terrified as I was hopeful. “Like not just getting stronger, but it’s different?”

He nodded, glancing between Phil and me. “Perhaps your Abilities will continue to transform, and this is only the beginning.”

Phil’s brow lifted. “You mean, like into bigger, different Abilities?”

“No, well, I’m not sure I would say that. I think they would be reminiscent of what they are now, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they continue to change as you learn and age. Like your bodies, your minds will mature to their full potential.”

I took a drink from my water bottle to wet my throat. It was a little overwhelming to think that this lack of control and uncertainty was only the beginning. “Are you trying to freak me out, Stanley? Because it’s working.”

“No, of course not.”

“I think it’s cool,” Phil said, nudging my shoulder.

“You would,” I grumbled. “You think everything about our Abilities is cool.”

“That’s because it is.” He chuckled. “I’m serious. If you keep getting stronger, that just means you’ll have more control. Try to see the positive. Right, Stan?”

Stanley stood with a knowing grin. “I’m going to leave you to practice with a more amiable mind.” He lifted his leg over the bench seat and glanced at Phil.

“Really?” Phil’s eyes alighted with excitement.

“Wait, what?” My head whipped back to Stanley as he headed toward the coffee pot on the countertop. “No,” I told him. Phil would do a lot for me, and I appreciated that, but I didn’t want him to have to see some of the things I had in some messy, accidental transfer of horrors.

“Oh, Soph, why not?” Phil’s face fell a little. He took my hand in his, and the warmth of it—the intimacy—made me blush, and I pulled my hand away. Phil had never openly told me how he’d felt, but he didn’t hide it either.

He cleared his throat. “Look, I know you want to get this figured out, so let’s get it figured out together. That’s what you’re here for, right, to practice?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, incredulous. He seemed gung ho, but then Phil wasn’t Alex, which was something I seemed to have a difficult time remembering. But it wasn’t Alex’s fault for the distance between us today—that was on me. Even if I could blame my Ability for screwing with my head, it didn’t change the fact that I’d hurt him. I knew I did the moment he stepped into the doorway, and it all clicked back into place. Maybe getting my Ability under control was the only way to fix things—maybe it would be my peace offering to him.

Finally, I conceded. It was impossible not to see the potential fun in practicing when he acted like such a kid at Christmas about it.

“Great. Plus, it might help you with your dreams.”

“What dreams?” I startled, and looked over my shoulder as Alex stepped into the cafeteria. Though he sounded concerned, his green eyes narrowed on me.

I tucked my hair behind me ear. “It’s nothing—”

“It’s why she’s been so distracted,” Phil said over me, and I could hear the bite in his tone. I hadn’t told him what happened with Alex, but Phil wasn’t dense either. It was obvious that Alex had been angry last night, when he walked away.

“I’ll get it under control,” I told them both. “It’s just part of how this awesome Ability of mine works now, apparently.”

Alex’s brow twitched, and he looked from me to Phil, considering something. I wanted so badly to know what he was thinking, and when he looked at me again, his expression softened a little. “I didn’t realize.”

“Maybe if you’d ask her how she’s doing once in a while you would,” Phil said curtly.

“Phil, it’s fine,” I told him. He didn’t know how it was with Alex, and I didn’t like the edge in his tone.

Alex didn’t either because he took a threatening step closer. “You got something to say to me, Phil?”

Phil rose to his feet.

“You’ve been around all of what, five minutes?” Alex growled. “Suddenly you think—”

I jumped up, my blood boiling with annoyance. “Stop it,” I told them, looking to Stanley for help.

Stanley looked concerned and dumbfounded as he glanced between them, but was no help to me whatsoever.

“Just leave it alone,” I ground out. “Why does everything have to be a pain in the ass?” My head ached just trying to think without having to worry about dealing with them too.

Phil scratched his shaven jaw, his eyes cutting away from Alex to finally look at me.

Alex moistened his lips, drew in a deep breath, and then, finally, his shoulders eased a bit.

“God,” I breathed. “You’re both idiots.” A pissing contest was the last thing I needed to deal with.

I grabbed my journal, annoyed. The dreams—all of the crap I was going through—was about me, yet somehow, in the past five seconds, it had become about them. I turned to leave.

“Wait, Soph,” Alex said, surprising me.

Hearing the regret in his voice, I paused in my brusque rush to leave and looked at him. “Why?” I couldn’t help my impatience. I was tired, I was irritated, and I didn’t know if he was fluffing his feathers because Phil was standing there or if it was because he really wanted me to stay. For a single second I hoped he would tell me he forgave me for last night and he wanted to talk, but when I saw the hesitation in his eyes, I knew it was neither of those.

“Ross needs to talk to us, and it’s important.”

My thoughts tumbled as I looked away from him. I knew I’d hurt Alex, and I hated myself for that, but part of me thought I deserved just a little bit of a break.

Deflated, I sat down at the table again, I opened my journal so I could focus on anything other than Alex standing behind me.

It might’ve been utter exhaustion, but I wasn’t sure I had it in me to keep fighting for what could be between Alex and me. I was beginning to wonder if the only thing Alex had ever fought for in his life was to survive. I couldn’t fight for the both of us.

12

Alex

Sophie sat back down at the table, refusing to look at me, and opened her ink-smudged journal. My heart was pounding back into place, and even if I’d wanted her to stay, not just for Ross, but because I didn’t want her leaving angry, I wasn’t going to say that with Phil standing there. I didn’t want him having any part of this. He already made everything harder between Sophie and me; he didn’t get to insert himself in this too.

I glared at him as he sat back down at the table with a huff, and loosened my tightened fists. That Phil thought he understood any of it was infuriating, but it was that Sophie might’ve actually confided in him that pissed me off the most.

Of course I knew Sophie was having dreams—dreams about Phil. Part of me almost wished I’d just touched her last night, so that I’d know exactly what she was dreaming about; then I’d at least know what Phil knew. But everyone’s focus shifted to Ross when he walked in, and I forced all thoughts of Sophie and Phil aside.

“What is it you need to talk to us about?” Phil leaned back against the cafeteria table, his arms crossed over his chest and his legs stretched out in front of him, like he had somewhere else to be. He was a cocky asshole, I’d decided.

Stanley resumed his seat beside Sophie, and capped his pen, discarded in his notebook. He studied Ross carefully through his black-rimmed glasses.

I pulled out a rolled up bag of jerky from my back pocket and leaned against the wall, settling in for Ross to give everyone the bad news.

“We’re waiting for Jackson and Woody,” Ross said and tossed his baseball cap onto the table. “They needed a few minutes more.” He glanced at me. “Nightingale reached out again.”

My jaw tightened on a salty strip of jerky. “They did?”

Ross nodded. “I don’t know the details yet.” He walked over to the coffee pot on the long, mostly empty counter, grabbed a clean mug from the upside-down stack, and poured black coffee to the rim. He either didn’t know what they were chatting with Nightingale about, or he didn’t want to say quite yet.

When Ross turned around, blowing on his steaming mug, his brow instantly furrowed. He surveyed the room, all of us in our respective corners. “Everything okay in here? You could choke on the tension filling this room.”

“It’s fine,” Sophie, Phil, and I all muttered at once, then Woody’s voice echoed down the hall. Jackson came in first and beelined for the coffee pot next to Ross.

“Well, what do you know?” Woody said, pausing at the doorway with a larger-than-life grin. “Here are my favorite group of rascals.” He ran his fingers through the nest of his wild, blonde hair as he made his way over to the cafeteria table and plopped down beside Stanley. I wasn’t sure Woody ever brushed his hair; he perpetually looked like he’d been struck by lightning. The gap between his front teeth was only icing on the cake. “You’re all getting along nicely, I hope.”

Phil and I glanced at each other.

But unlike Woody, with his half-baked smiles, Jackson stood stoically at the coffee pot, staring out at us.

“Well?” I said, shoving the bag of jerky back into my pocket. “What did Nightingale say?”

“Was it something about Herodson?” Phil’s voice deepened with apprehension.

Woody shook his head, and held up his palm. “Easy, Fido. Herodson has bigger things to worry about than us right now.” His voice was light with an unexpected amusement.

I braced myself against the wall with my foot. “What’s that mean exactly?”

“It means all of his pet projects, his precious Re-gens, didn’t only take up against him in the rebellion in March. Rumor has it they’ve started a colony of their own in California.” His eyes locked with Stanley’s. “They’ve banded together, and if I were Herodson, I’d be losing my shit right about now.” Woody glanced at Sophie. “Pardon my French.”

She waved his apology away. “So—what are you saying? That there’s going to be a war or something?”

“I’m saying that General Herodson’s well-honed, regenerated army has not only deserted him, they’ve become stronger than him in just about every way imaginable.” I wasn’t sure about the rest of the group, but I needed more of an explanation than that.

“Look . . .” Woody leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Maybe it’s worth reminding you that all of Herodson’s pet projects have been programmed and created in a way that will suit him best—to be a stronger asset to him in every single way. They’re like his militia of attack-Labradors on steroids, and now they’re no longer at his side.” He paused, waiting for his words to sink in. “That means they’re fighting for themselves, not for him. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

I nodded along with the rest of them, but I was still anxious to learn what, exactly, that meant for us.

“Now,” Woody continued with a barely containable grin, “I’m not sure if Re-gens hold grudges, but if even half of them want retribution, he’ll be looking over his shoulder, even in his sleep—if he’s even getting any, that is. As Stanley here knows, he’s implemented enough electroshock therapy to have the Re-gens’ Abilities shooting out their fingertips like lightning bolts. He’s not safe if they are against him.” Woody chuckled, all too pleased by the situation.

I dared to hope the Re-gens would annihilate Herodson, but I was beginning to wonder if Woody hadn’t completely lost it this time. With our power source in question, could we really be so lucky? It seemed unlikely. But then, things changed quickly. We’d gone from trying to survive the winter, to learning that a megalomaniac might be coming to kill, brainwash, or experiment on us—or a combination of them all. Now, the General was indisposed for a while?

Trying not to get lost down the rabbit hole of hopeful what the fucks, I crossed my arms over my chest, heaved out a steadying breath, and chewed on my jerky, waiting. Woody had to have more good news—or at least more than the crazed, gleaming look in his eyes and big smile—to back up his story.

“Nightingale told you this?” Phil said, looking from Woody to Jackson for confirmation.

Jackson dipped his chin, thoughtful. I was trying to determine if he believed it or not himself, but his face gave nothing away—no surprise or hope. No skepticism, either.

“Yep, good ol’ Nightingale came through for us again,” Woody said easily, as if that was all the explanation we needed. But we didn’t know who this Nightingale was, or what their credentials were. What made Nightingale trustworthy, when the General had already brought so many people into the fold?

“What if your Nightingale is wrong this time?” I asked, because I knew everyone else was thinking it. Woody was smart in a lot of ways, but he was also desperate for the General to fail.

“Or,” Sophie interjected, and her eyes narrowed with disbelief. “What if they’re lying so that you think General Herodson is distracted?”

Woody scoffed. “Look at all of you conspiracy theorists. I’m so proud.” He practically beamed. “Truly but, she owes me,” he said flatly. “Nightingale wouldn’t deliver me maybes.”

“She?” Sophie confirmed, and I was certain my eyebrows nearly reached my hairline too.

“Yes, she. I saved her life during the outbreak, in a matter of speaking anyway, and she owes me.” He pointed at Sophie. “And those are her words, not mine. I call her Nightingale because she always seems to have good news.” He leaned back on his elbows and peered around the room at us. I had a dozen questions but it was all I could do to absorb his words.

Jackson watched Woody too, like he was waiting for something, or maybe processing all of the things he knew that we didn’t yet.

When Woody’s eyes met Stanley’s, Woody smiled warmly. “Trust me, we’re all working together in this.”

There was one thing I’d noticed about Woody and Stanley. However deep their connection went, and whatever bond of hatred they shared for Herodson, Woody was very protective of Stanley. I wasn’t sure if it was because he felt bad for the guy, having been the General’s puppet, or if what they’d been through by the General’s beckoning had made them kindred spirits. Either way, Woody would never put Stanley in harm’s way, and the tension in my shoulders eased a little.

“Does she work for the General, or did she, like Stanley used to?” Phil asked. “Is that how she knows so much?”

I glanced at our bow tie wearing friend, who, by the looks of it, would rather melt into the wall than talk about the General. Stanley didn’t like attention, and Woody cleared his throat so all eyes shifted back to him.

“She’s military, but I wouldn’t say she worked for him. Not knowingly, at least,” Woody explained. He’d actually pull off a military uniform well, if it wasn’t for his crazy hair and his belly that stuck out a little too far to be completely convincing. “She definitely got into some thick shit when the Virus finally hit Alaska, though. And she knows people—in Washington and Hartley Bay. She’s got connections and knowledge, it’s how she’s stayed alive this long.”

Sophie bit the side of her lip. “Then, what was it you did that saved her? I mean, if she knows so many people, why did she need you?”

He glanced around the room at our anxious faces. “I think it’s safe to assume that Nightingale came to me because I’ve never been quiet about my hatred of Gregory, even if I’ve never been stupid enough to call him out by name. I’ve been on watch lists most of my life, and who else would you go to if you needed help but didn’t trust the people who you worked for? The crazy guy everyone writes off. Am I right?”

“You all might think I’m paranoid,” he continued, “but it’s kept me alive this long, hasn’t it? Now, look what’s happened. I, of all people, would be skeptical of her if I didn’t know how badly she’d wanted to disappear back in December. She reached out to me over the radio waves—on a secure station only I use—and it freaked me out that she’d found me, I’m not going to lie. She had intel somehow, a way of finding me, and I nearly lost my shit.” He looked at Sophie. “Excuse my French, again.”

She bobbed her head, impatiently waiting for him to continue.

“But I recognized the fear in her voice. She needed the fastest way out of Alaska, undetected, and she was willing to give me any and all information she could in exchange for it.”

“How did you get her out of Alaska?” Phil asked with awe, which was my next question as well.

Woody smiled as if it was all a game of espionage and intrigue. “The Permafrost Tunnels.”

“In Fairbanks?” Jackson frowned.

“What? Don’t tell me you believed they’re just a couple of research tunnels from the 60s?” Woody shook his head and laughed. “It was the 60s! They didn’t care about science back then, unless it helped their wars. It’s not a coincidence that Alaska has so many military bases. The North is the perfect smokescreen because no one wants to actually be here.”

“A person could go crazy thinking about all of this,” Jackson muttered.

I scrubbed my fingers over my head. “Yep.” Secret tunnels and code names were enough to make my head spin, but then again, I was getting used to that these days.

“Ross, you know what I’m talking about,” Woody said in need of backup.

But Ross only shrugged. “I was infantry. I was on a need to know basis,” he explained. “And I was never stationed in Alaska. I know nothing about escape tunnels.”

“Whatever—the point is,” Woody huffed, growing restless, “that Nightingale is the one who confirmed General Herodson was behind this to begin with, and she was the one who told me how the outbreak spread so quickly.”

“The shipping ports,” I recalled. Woody had told us about the sleeper cells Herodson had throughout the US, ready and waiting for the word so they could infect the ports, transporting the Virus more efficiently throughout the world. The northern ports were a perfect bridge to the rest of the arctic.

“Nightingale hasn’t given me a reason not to trust her yet, so I’m not going to start doubting her now.”

I still couldn’t believe that Woody, of all people, was telling us that we didn’t have to worry about the General, or at least it seemed we could sleep a little better now.

“If we don’t have to worry about Herodson at the moment,” Ross said, his voice booming in the charged silence. “I suggest we talk about the hydro plant.”

Everyone, including Woody, looked at him.

“We’ve only got a month or so left of rushing water, which means a month or so left of guaranteed power.”

And with those words, everyone’s faces tightened with worry, and all sense of momentary relief was gone.

“We never considered the fluctuations of the river when we decided to make this place our fortress,” he continued. “And the water level and current are decreasing.”

“But, you were all here last winter.” Sophie glanced at Woody, then her pleading gaze landed on Phil. “You were fine, right?” She looked at Stanley, hoping for some reassurance, like maybe they had figured out a way to do it before and might be able to enlighten everyone—but I’d already learned why that wouldn’t work.

“When we came last year,” Woody said, “everything was still running—it’d only been a few weeks after the outbreak.” He looked at Phil, like he was remembering something, and then rubbed his temples with a sigh. “I considered the water level fluctuating, but I never considered how much.”

“We’ve been a little preoccupied,” Stanley added in Woody’s defense, and he pushed his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose.

Sophie’s eyes met mine before she looked to Jackson. He always had an idea. Between him, Ross, and Bert, they’d be able to fix anything.

“Is that where Bert is?” I asked. “At the plant?”

Ross took another sip of coffee and nodded. “He’s calculating how much time we actually have before we’ll need to rely solely on generators. And we need to figure out, realistically, how far we’ll get with the fuel quality we have, and what to do after.”

“And we need to consider alternatives for the lodge,” Sophie said. “Maybe solar panels or something? Do we cut more wood for the fireplaces—and what about the well?” She glanced around, fear and uncertainty shining in her eyes. “I mean, do we abandon this place, for now?” But while all of that would help, I knew there was another, more reliable option, if we could make it work.

What if we only needed another energy source to keep everything running—an energy source besides the water? I didn’t understand much science, but I got car engines, and the turbines were essentially engines of their own.

I stared at my hands. “What if we don’t need fuel?” When I glanced up, everyone was looking at me. “I have an idea.”

Jackson’s gaze met mine, his eyebrows drawn together in consternation. “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”

13

Elle

The water was cool against my feverish skin as it gushed over the last of the freshly picked raspberries from our excursion in Whitehorse. Though it was nearly seven o’clock, the sun was still warm, and the breeze I’d woken up to had settled to naught.

Since what had happened in the feedstore parking lot—the shadow I saw but didn’t see—I’d been running hotter than usual. It was the fire in my blood, stoked by a nagging apprehension, and I couldn’t seem to shake it. Jackson would know if something was wrong, I kept telling myself because that was true. He could sense those things, and he’d have radioed or come home sooner if he was worried about something.

Momentarily satisfied, I pushed the thoughts away and glanced at the four large salad bowls of red berries on the counter. With the three baskets of crabapples inside the pantry, we’d have plenty of natural pectin for blueberry and raspberry preserves to add to our stock by the time I was finished. Plus, we still had cranberries and huckleberries to pick in the surrounding woods, so we’d be set with dried fruit for the winter.

Each new task had felt overwhelming when we’d first decided to stay out here, and while I was far from an expert in canning and building and all the other things that went with living off the land, I was learning, just like Jade, Del, and Took had taught us. All of us were becoming more self-reliant, little by little.

Every time I remembered Jade’s caribou stew recipe without looking at my notes, I thought about her and how proud she’d be. When I told Jackson not to burn the spruce, only the birch, I thought about the happy moments we’d had with the Ranksins in Alaska. And when Beau and Thea made their own fishing poles, the way Jackson had taught them, I thought just maybe they’d be okay out here on their own one day, and it made all of the sleepless nights and long days worthwhile.

Loud and excited footsteps scurried down the stairs as the rumble of the Tacoma echoed up the drive.

“They’re home!” Thea shouted, and ran into the living room. “Maybe they brought me something!” The sliding door screeched open as she ran out onto the deck.

Beau muttered something, probably in annoyance, and the screen screeched shut behind them.

If Jackson, Sophie, and Alex were home, it meant the day was winding down, which should have given me a sense of peace, but I thought of the shadow again. If someone had been standing there, Luna would’ve been the first to sense it, and I trusted her more than I trusted my own instinct, but still, the feeling of not knowing needled at me.

Beau and Thea’s excited voices drew closer again, and I heard Alex’s easy, rich chuckle as they walked around the deck. After a few moments and two more rinsed bowls of raspberries, Jackson’s heavy footsteps made their way into the kitchen.

“You’d be proud of me,” I told him as soon as I heard his boots on the hardwood floor. “The venison is seasoned, the salad is made, and I even boiled the potatoes already. All you have to do is turn on the grill.”

He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. “So, you took what I said to heart, huh?”

Shutting my eyes, I leaned into him, letting the water drip from my fingers. “Wait, like I don’t listen to you or something?”

Jackson kissed the side of my head, then pulled away. “You mean like you listen when I tell you something’s too heavy and you should wait for me to help you, only you don’t?” He walked over to the dining room table and set his backpack down. “Or when you throw out my holey socks, even though we’re supposed to be—”

I glanced over my shoulder at him with a furrowed brow. “There is absolutely no reason you have to wear holey socks, especially the ones I’ve already mended that sprout more holes.” I ran the final bowl of raspberries under the water.

“I think you get my point though,” he said flatly.

I grinned. “Fine. Also, you’ll be glad to know we also picked a ton of raspberries today. It was fun and not a chore on the list of things to do.”

He chuckled softly, if a little exasperated. “Good. I’m glad.” He walked to the refrigerator, scratching the back of his head. “And, I’m also relieved dinner is ready, and not for the kids’ sake this time. I’m starving.” The door creaked as he pulled it open. “Other than berry picking, how was your day?” There was a hesitance to his voice, or perhaps exhaustion.

“It was good. Busy, but nice. We went to the feedstore to get some grain for the cows, so we’ll be ready when we bring them home tomorrow.” I tried to blow a strand of hair from my face, and when that didn’t work, I brushed it away with my shoulder. When Jackson didn’t reply, I glanced behind me.

He stood in front of the fridge, staring into it like Alex tended to do when he couldn’t decide what he wanted; only Jackson was frowning.

“What’s wrong?” Wiping my hands off on the dish towel, my mind swirled, thinking about the shadow and that I’d been right. Something was definitely bothering him. “Jackson?” I stepped over to him.

As if stirred from deeper thoughts, he stared thoughtfully at me, then grabbed the water pitcher from inside the fridge. He did look exhausted. Jackson was so imposing in appearance, it was obvious when he was out of sorts; his shoulders slumped more, his brow puckered with contemplation, and sometimes he even worried his bottom lip.

“It seems we don’t have to worry so much about Herodson at the moment,” he finally said, pouring himself a glass of water. In the heat of the evening, the glass instantly beaded with condensation from the cool water.

Hearing Herodson’s name made my heartbeat quicken, but then Jackson’s words settled into place. “We don’t?” I might’ve sounded cool and collected, but my mind was spinning a little, and my palms were sweating at the mere thought of that vile man and every horrible, monstrous thing he stood for. “Why, what do you know?” I took the water pitcher from the counter top and refilled his glass.

“Apparently his army has deserted him—more than that, actually, they could be preparing to move against him.”

“Against him?” While the news was good, it seemed unlikely. Then again, they had rebelled against him a few months ago, so what was to say they wouldn’t take it further. I thought of Stanley and what he would like to do to General Herodson if he had the chance, so I could picture an entire Re-gen army wanting a piece of him too.

I stared down at my feet. My shoes were dusty from berry picking, and my laces were covered in stickers from the bramble. I had a million questions and could list a hundred reasons why it couldn’t be that easy. The General wouldn’t go from sociopath and world dominator to running away scared so easily. I looked at Jackson. He was watching me from the brim of his water glass. “How do you know?”

He wiped the water from his mustache and ran his index finger down his water-beaded glass. “Woody’s Nightingale reached out to him again. I’ll tell you all about it, I promise, but right now, the General isn’t what I’m concerned about.” Jackson worried his lip, thinking.

“Then,” I said with bated breath and my blood whirred in my veins. “What are you worried about?”

Jackson walked over to me and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me protectively closer. His hazel eyes were dark and fixed on me, and as anxious as I was for him to speak, I feared what he’d say as worry lines etched his face. “We only have electricity for another four to five weeks. Even if we can get solar panels up in time to run the house and the prison, they won’t do us much good in the dead of winter.”

I exhaled as his words resonated. “No, they won’t,” I agreed, and swallowed thickly.

No more electricity? The hydro plant had been the perfect conductor, run by nature so we wouldn’t have to worry much about it. We’d focused on everything else—irrigation to ensure we’d always have water diverted from the river if the well ran dry; firewood to keep warm; food, and even candles and kerosene. We could figure everything else out if we needed to, but we needed electricity to keep the prison running, to keep us safe. It was one of the few things that helped me sleep at night, and everything was electric, from the lights, sensors, cameras and locks, to the electric fence and cell doors. “The communication equipment,” I realized. I peered into Jackson’s eyes, my mind starting to corkscrew as my to-do list tripled in length. As I began to tally all the things we’d have to prioritize now, I was overwhelmingly confused. “Why is this an issue now?”

“Nature,” he mused. “The water level is lowering.” Jackson scratched his beard. “We were ignorant to think it would be so easy.” I saw the swirling trepidation in his eyes.

Jackson pulled a set of plans out of his bag. “The generators are so old, we thought they were left from before they’d modernized the station, and they hadn’t replaced them because they were used for emergencies.” He unrolled the plans across the dining table.

I walked over and peered down at the blueprints and maps of the power compound. “The river is only a problem in the winter, until the glaciers melt again, right?” I had to ask, to make sure I was seeing the whole picture. “The prison will only be inop until spring?”

Jackson nodded. “Bert says they have to have water level measurements and logs somewhere, only nothing is analog anymore, everything is digital. Stanley is going to do some searching in their database tonight and see what he can find.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so worried,” I said. “Can’t Bert use his Ability to run the plant?”

He looked at me as if that were doubtful. “Powering the entire facility would drain him—could even kill him,” Jackson said carefully. “Just working on the vehicles the way he does zaps him, he can’t be on all the time, feeding a machine like that for months.”

“Well.” I threw my hands up. “Does he have any other ideas?” I couldn’t help my frustration. This was what I’d been worried about. Not being prepared or ready for what it meant to live out here. “We’ll put the greenhouse on hold, and I can get everything canned and off my plate this week. We’ll all put our heads together and focus on another energy solution. There has to be one.”

“There is,” Jackson said, and I almost smacked his arm.

“Then why didn’t you start with that?”

“Because Alex came up with it and you’re not going to like it,” he answered in a rush.

My heart did a double thud, and I swallowed thickly. “Why, what did he say?”

“His Ability,” Jackson explained, and all too quickly I began to understand.

“You want him to amplify Bert.”

Jackson dipped his chin. “Like what Alex did with Bert and Thea while reinforcing the prison; boosting their Abilities to make them stronger, and able to work longer.”

It seemed like the perfect solution, and as relieved as I felt, realizing there was a way around this mess, I knew the cost it would have on all of us.

“For the prison to stay up and running, Alex would be living at the hydro plant all winter.” Or so I assumed. He couldn’t just think about something and make it happen, he had to be touching Bert. And Bert needed to be where the power was needed.

Jackson’s eyes lingered, and his jaw worked beneath his beard as he waited for me to finish processing.

Other than overnight hunting trips or late nights at the prison, the six of us hadn’t been separated since December. It’s just the way it was, and it was safer. And if Nightingale was wrong, and black bands or yellow bands or goddamn purple bands with rainbow hearts showed up in the meantime, he would be in the heart of the city . . . with Bert. Alone. “You’re okay with this?” I needed to see the certainty in Jackson’s eyes. I needed him to tell me this was the best way, because I wasn’t sure it was worth the risk.

Jackson reached for me, and rested his hand on my shoulder. “I don’t want this, Elle, but what’s the better option, to abandon the prison for the next three months or have Alex and Bert bunker up at the plant and wait it out?”

“You make it sound like he’s going on a vacation or something,” I grumbled.

“It could be worse, Elle. I know you’re worried, but it makes sense. And he’s the one who thought of it. If he wasn’t willing, he wouldn’t have even offered.”

“You know that’s not true,” I told him. Alex would do whatever was needed, despite being alone, cold, and potentially scared all winter in that cold, metal place.

“Elle, he’s not a kid—”

“I know that, but—it’s Alex.” My chest tightened, and I wasn’t even sure why. He was capable, smart, and probably more even-keeled than the rest of us. But bad things happen when we’re apart. I thought of the men that came to Slana, and the car accident. I thought about Beau falling through the ice in Mentasta Lake, and all of the close calls since.

“He’ll be less than five miles away. And we’ll have the converted snow machines once we get them finished. It’s not like Alex will be completely abandoned or alone. Bert will be there.”

While Bert was great and all, he wouldn’t be the person I’d want to spend all winter cooped up with, so that wasn’t exactly comforting. “Are we sure there’s no other option?”

“There’s not,” Alex said from the living room.

I spun around as he walked toward the dining room table.

“Not unless we go without power and leave the prison vulnerable.” His t-shirt was bunched around his hands shoved inside his pockets, like this was just another day and he wasn’t offering to leave the safety of home, and the safety we had in numbers.

Sophie stood quietly behind him, her mouth pursed in a none too pleased line.

“Alex,” I said, taking a step closer. “We still have a month to figure it out.”

“Maybe. Or Bert and I can use the time to make sure this idea works, or build up to it, if we have to.” His expression was level and determined, and it wasn’t my place to argue with him.

“Okay,” I finally agreed, resolved but unhappy about it. “But I don’t care if we’re without power for a night or two, I expect you to be here for family dinner, at least once a week.” I held up my index finger. “And we’ll see if Rocky or one of the other wolves will stay with you, just as an added precaution.”

“Sure,” Alex said with a small smile. “Whatever you want.”

“And,” I said, stepping closer. I peered into Alex’s determined green eyes, imploring him to understand. “If at any point you change your mind—if you think for a single moment that you could get hurt or that it’s taking too much of a toll on you—swear to me that you’ll tell us.”

Alex tried to flash me one of his broad, toothy grins for reassurance, but I shook my head. “Swear to me.”

Slowly, his smile waned, and I watched as the sincerity gleamed in his eyes, knowing how much this meant to me. “I swear.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t believe Alex, but when it came down to it, he would do whatever he needed to for us, regardless of the consequences—working late with me so I wouldn’t have to do it alone; spending time with Beau and Thea when he really wanted to go hunting with Jackson or scavenging with Ross. And I had a hunch he kept his distance from Sophie, not just out of self-preservation, but in fear of what would happen if the group dynamic shifted too much.

“Thank you.” I eyed him closely, then I turned away.

“Careful, Elle,” Alex said wryly. “You’re starting to sound like a mom.”

“Oh, goodness no. I’m far too young for that. Maybe a cool older sister, though.” I winked at him.

With a smile, Alex turned, bypassing Sophie as he headed through the living room and up the stairs. Alex could flash the most warm, charismatic smile, but even I could feel his cold shoulder as he passed her.

I walked up behind her, suddenly concerned with what his decision was really about. “Everything okay?” I asked quietly, though it clearly wasn’t.

“Yeah, sure,” she said, brushing her hair over her shoulder. She flashed me an unconvincing smile. “Let me know when you need help with dinner.” Quickly, she turned and headed out to the deck to join the kids, pulling the screen closed behind her.

“I must not be part of the cool kids group anymore, because I have no clue what’s going on.”

Jackson pulled me against him with a small curve of a smile. “Tell me about it.”

It wasn’t that long ago that I was trying to navigate guys and adulthood, and despite my best efforts, I’d been horrible at it. I hadn’t had Abilities and the end of the world to worry about, even if it felt like it sometimes. “Lord help us,” I muttered, breathing Jackson in. At least he was a constant I could grab onto when it felt like the world was beginning to wobble.

His arm tightened around me and he huffed a laugh. “I think we’ll need more help than that.”

14

Sophie

I lay beside Thea in her bed as the house fell silent for the night, her head resting perfectly in the crook of my arm. The rain pitter-pattered outside in the muted evening, but no light seeped in through the blackout curtains.

Thea and I had taken to reading before bed. At first, it was to make her feel more comfortable as she eased into her own room, away from everyone else, after months of cramped living quarters. Gradually, though, it became our nightly routine, poring over my journals, her giggling at my sketches and trying to discern one plant or type of fish from another.

She pointed to my hasty rendering of a lodgepole pine. “Can you eat pine needles too?”

I rested my cheek against the top of her head. “Remember the tea Jade made us the first night we met her, when Elle was recovering from the car accident?”

Thea scrunched her nose. “I didn’t like it.”

“No, you didn’t. But you like spruce tips.”

“Only in tea,” she clarified.

“I don’t know about that,” I said, recalling Thea’s many facial expressions when it came to food, specifically the ones she didn’t like. Elle might not have been versed in cooking, but she followed recipes to a T, when there was one, and her candied spruce tips had been quite the hit before Thea knew what they actually were. “You like them when they’re drizzled in sugar.”

“Everything’s better with sugar,” she said with a yawn.

“This is true.” I brushed her hair from her face and craned my neck to look down at her lazily blinking eyes. “Time for bed, munchkin?”

I wasn’t sure if it was the long days filled with energy-zapping sun, or if Thea was growing more comfortable in the house after the past three months, but she didn’t protest as I closed my journal and slid my arm out from under her. I tucked her goose down comforter up around her shoulders as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

“Night, munchkin.” With an air kiss, I switched off the table lamp. The room was cast in a muted pink glow from the star lights that hung along the opposite wall. Thea wouldn’t have her creature comforts if the power shut off and her room was shrouded in darkness. She might not even sleep in her own room anymore. Those were the little things that made Alex so willing to leave for the plant, I kept telling myself. Not me.

I stepped over Rocky, a tawny fluff ball curled up on the floor beside the bed, and out into the hallway.

“Sophie,” Thea chirped through another yawn. I turned to find her eyes were closed.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think the bad guys likes wolves,” she said as if she’d given the idea a lot of thought.

I looked at Rocky on the floor. “You don’t think so?” Rocky’s wolfy eyebrows lifted as he peered up at me, then his bushy tail thumped happily on the floor. It was difficult to imagine not having the wolves, now that they’d become a fixed part of our home and our lives.

Thea barely shook her head. “I think it’s why we’re safe here.” That she even had to worry about bad guys nearly broke my heart. We didn’t talk about it with Beau and Thea much, other than to tell them that they were safe, and that they should both use their Abilities in any way they could to protect themselves if anyone ever tried to hurt them. “I think you’re right,” I told her. “I wouldn’t want to mess with them, especially before their breakfast.”

“Or when they’re tired.” Thea yawned again, her eyelashes barely fluttering open. “Luna gets grumpy when she’s tired.”

“True,” I whispered. “Very, very true.”

With a final exhale, Thea tucked her hand under her pillow. “Night.”

“Night, munchkin.” I pulled the door closed halfway and gripped the journal in my hand as I stepped onto the landing, ready to head to bed myself.

I thought the others had gone to sleep, but the lights were still on downstairs, and I peered over the rail into the living room. No doubt Beau was sneaking a midnight snack, or maybe Jackson.

With a yawn of my own, I made my way downstairs to find Ross asleep at the breakfast bar. His arms were folded on the granite countertop, his head resting on a stack of chicken-scratch covered paperwork. There were plans strewn around, and building sketches of the hydro plant. For all of Ross’s worrying, the severe lines that often etched his face were softened by sleep.

I’d never seen Ross asleep before. Like me, he struggled to shut his mind off—an undesired side effect of seeing and feeling too much. His brow twitched and creased, and his russet eyelashes fluttered.

It was probably a bad dream, but I hesitated to wake him. “Ross,” I whispered.

He twitched again, and a moan rumbled in his throat.

“Ross,” I bit out, and I reached for his arm. “Ross, wake up—” Instantly, I was lost in the dream world.

I was Ross, huddled in the corner of a living room, dressed in an Alaska State Trooper’s uniform as I rocked back and forth, sobbing. Despite the lights on in the room, only darkness surrounded me, and I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to breathe. An inexplicable emptiness was all-consuming.

Then, everything flashed to white.

The wind was biting cold, and my throat was so thick with dread, I couldn’t swallow. I stood in the parking lot at a bus station, scouring the haphazardly parked, snow-covered cars for one that looked familiar. A specific one. The one.

Heart thudding in my chest, I trudged on weak legs, numb with cold, along the half-covered tire tracks, fear weighing down my every movement. A dying hope flared to life when I spotted a dirty, white Outback. It was Kelsey’s car; the one I’d changed the oil in only a few weeks ago. And I could see her outline through the frosted glass.

Everything inside of me shuddered with cold and fear. I couldn’t feel my feet or hands, but I didn’t care. Taking a few fumbling steps closer, I stopped a yard away and stared through the driver side window, at Kelsey’s unmoving body.

“Kels . . .” Her name was barely a breath as I opened the door, and then I began to wail.

Like me, she was thinner and harried. But unlike me, she looked dead.

My lungs wouldn’t work as I tried to breathe. I’d followed her trail for days; I hadn’t slept and I’d barely eaten so that I would find her in time, and I was still too late.

Anger consumed me. Anger toward myself, for not being there when she needed me. Toward her, for leaving to get that stupid medicine for her mother that she’d never returned from. The notes she’d left in her wake had grown less coherent, and it was a miracle I’d found her at all. Still, I’d held out hope. Every note had meant that she was still alive; I just had to find her.

I couldn’t tear my gaze from Kelsey’s milky-blue eyes, or the dry lips of her gaping mouth as the cold wind made her blonde hair dance around her face. She looked like she’d been dead too long, but somehow, she still felt alive in my arms.

“Why didn’t you wait for me,” I sobbed. “I was coming—you should’ve waited . . .” I held her against me, resting my forehead on hers. She’d lost her damn mind, even if I hadn’t wanted to admit it. There was no reason for her to be so emaciated or dehydrated, and all I could think was that she was so sick, so changed, I was lucky to have found her at all.

Suddenly, she gasped for air, and I fell back into the snow.

“Kelsey!” I shouted, and scrambling back to her, I pulled her limp body into my arms again.

Her eyes shifted slowly around, unable to focus, and her lips smacked, cracked and chapped, like a skeleton in need of water.

I could somehow feel it, the last essence of life drifting from her. It was a blackness unlike any fathomable feeling—a void. The Virus had eaten away at her mind. She wasn’t Kelsey anymore; she was something else. She’d turned into one of them.

“Kelsey!” I whispered through hot, incessant tears. No matter how much I shook her, no matter how much I shouted for her to hold on and fight to live, death was hovering, and I was helpless against it. “Stay with me!” Feeling a light somewhere inside her mind, I clung to it. I didn’t understand it, but I could feel it, a fading beacon I tried to hold onto. Even as my mind tried to help her move forward, my heart was pulling her back. She gaped and groaned until finally her heartbeat waned. A pang of fear was followed by confusion, and remnants of whatever was still inside her dimmed.

I sat with her wrapped in my arms as the Virus ate away at all that was left of her. The complete darkness that had consumed her mind was gone like a puff of smoke, and then the chills covering my body dissipated.

As Kelsey took her final gasp, I felt a rush of air escape from my own lungs, and the woman I loved—the stranger in my arms—left the world forever. Then, shame settled over me, and I knew I would never be able to live with myself again.

“Ross,” I nearly shouted, and his head shot up.

He blinked at me.

“You—” I paused to catch my breath. My heart was a battering ram against my ribcage. “You were dreaming,” I said dumbly, and swallowed my horror. It was too raw and real, and I could feel his shame, even if I didn’t understand it.

Ross glanced around at the papers surrounding him, then shot up to his feet. “I was, uh, just trying to see how much power we’d need.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. His cheeks were damp with tears. “For the hydro plant.”

I turned for the water pitcher that was on the kitchen counter.

“I was just finishing up.” He scrambled to gather all of his things, his mind clearly moving at warp speed. “I must’ve dozed off.”

“It’s okay,” I told him. “You’re okay—here.” I handed him a glass of water. He needed one—I needed one.

“I’m fine,” he breathed, clutching his papers to his chest. “I’m fine.”

But Ross wasn’t fine. Ross hadn’t been fine since I’d met him, constantly suspended in a second chance he felt he didn’t deserve. All of the death he’d seen bred a new sort of horror—to know what each final breath might’ve brought with it, and to know how it felt.

“Have some water,” I told him. “You don’t have to rush out.” If anyone knew how horrible the memories were, I did. “You shouldn’t be alone—”

“It’s fine, Sophie. I’m fine.” His gruffness was back and desperate.

“It’s not all like that,” I told him, because it couldn’t be. “The Virus, what it did to her mind—that’s not what happens to everyone.” I refused to believe it. “She was sick—”

“Goodnight, Sophie.” He gave me a curt nod, then hurried through the living room and out the sliding glass door to his cabin. Once again, I was left alone with a barrage of unwanted feelings and gut-wrenching memories; but unlike Ross, I didn’t have anywhere to retreat to.

15

Sophie

I tossed and turned in bed, my mind a fuzzy haze as it flitted between sleep and wake. Familiar faces flashed in and out, blips of things I’d forgotten or didn’t want to remember, flaring to life again, like one card after another pulled from a Rolodex of memories.

Phil was curled up in the corner of a hotel room, shaking with fear and cold as he grieved for his mother and sister dead in their bed. He stumbled down an abandoned street with wind chapped lips and the deep burn of hunger in the pit of his stomach.

JJ flailed, convulsing on the stretcher, and a trail of blood stained the carpet as the EMT wheeled her into the elevator.

My mother’s empty promise that she would come home when it was safe, echoed in my ears—her brittle goodbye as she sent me away, knowing she would never see me again.

Elle’s hands burning hot with flames as Jackson’s father gurgled his final breath in her grip.

Elle’s body, engulfed in flames, as she singed the intruder at the house in Slana to ash, a commingling of sulfur and charcoal scenting the air as I took a deep, steadying breath.

A younger Ross flashed to my mind. He sat against a cement wall, debris and blood covering his fatigues as he stared down at his shaking hands. But it wasn’t his blood. He stared at the rifle in his lap, then at the dead child lying beside him. The boy’s eyes were open. His mouth was gaping and a bullet hole dotted the little boy’s heart. Ross was a shivering mess.

Then, I saw Alex, barely nine years old, standing on stairs that were threadbare, in a house that smelled strangely sweet. He stared down at his mother’s heaving form, hovering over his stepfather, who was motionless.

“What have you done!” his mother squealed. Her face was swollen, her lip was bleeding, and the sobs that tore out of her were nearly deafening.

Fretful tears and confusion filled Alex’s eyes.

“Why?” his mother screamed. Sobbing, she stared up at the ceiling. “Take Alejandro—take him instead.”

“Mama,” he sobbed, and dared to take a step closer to her.

I tried to open my eyes as the memory faded, but Alex’s misery pulled me back in. My mind cried to wake up, my body grasping for any good in the darkness, and then I saw him.

Alex was standing in the light—but it wasn’t my Alex. He was a young boy, desperate for love and affection, desperate for acceptance as he sobbed, pulling me back into unwanted horrors.

An old woman with kind brown eyes reached for his face; her thin, wrinkled fingers, trembling and weak. Tears filled his eyes as the life in her began to fade.

“Don’t go, Abuela,” he pleaded, taking her soft hand in his. He squeezed. “Please.” He lowered his forehead to her arm, and cried. “I need you.”

“No, mijo. You are strong.” She paused to draw in a strangled breath. “And you are good—”

“No!” Alex shook his head with a sob, knowing that wasn’t true. He’d torn his family apart and his foster home didn’t want him either. His mother was dead, his stepfather was dead, his sister had been taken away, and it was all because of him. His abuela was all he had left in the whole world, and without her, he had no one—his greatest fear of all.

“Why does everyone always leave?” He cried into her hand.

The years progressed, and a taller Alex slept restlessly in a hedge outside, with only a jacket and beanie to warm him. I could feel the cold in his bones and the depths of his despair. I could feel his self-loathing and regret. But it was his loneliness that gutted me.

At the thought of his sister and her uncertain fate, something hardened inside of him, a shell encasing his sadness, and I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Alex,” I breathed, finally opening my eyes, wet with tears. I sat up in bed, frantic to wipe the dampness away.

I peered around my room, focusing on my stacks of journals on the desk—cloaked in dark shadows—as I caught my breath. I tried to focus on the chill in the air and the sound of raindrops tinking against the gutters outside my window. I tried to focus on anything but my mind, brimming with too much feeling, and too much emotion.

But all I could think about was Alex, and I couldn’t bear it anymore. All the memories felt too big and overwhelming. They were crushing me along with every hopeful feeling I clung to. I didn’t want to feel the pain and emptiness anymore, and I couldn’t bear the loneliness. There had to be good, too—I had to show Alex there was something good.

I flung my covers back and hurried out of my room, sniffling back the desperate ache that still lingered. I needed to see him, an older, stronger Alex—my Alex. I needed him to know.

“Alex—” I called, and turned his doorknob, pushing into his room.

Alex stumbled back, barely out of bed and unsteady on his feet as he blinked himself awake. “Soph—what’s—”

I flung my arms around him, wanting him to feel my warmth, wanting to tell him he was loved and wanted. “I’m so sorry,” I breathed.

“What?” he whispered. His arms tightened around me. “Sophie—are you okay?” His words were a rush of concern, and I shook my head.

With abandon, I pressed my lips to his in a silent promise. You are not alone. He would never be alone again. He was safe and warm, and here with us. He was here with me.

I’d seen the memories before, but tonight they felt more like they were my own, real and aching inside me, and Alex was my remedy. Or maybe I wanted to be his. I wasn’t sure if I kissed him for me or to reassure him, but the spark between us—the draw I had to him—warmed the coldest parts of me, and I pulled him closer. I wanted to push away his fear and sadness. I wanted him to see the good.

For the briefest of moments, Alex kissed me back, his lips were soft and his arms were strong. “She was right . . . You are good,” I whispered against his mouth. As I thought of his mother and his father, and I thought about the fear I’d felt inside of him spreading, I kissed him harder. I never wanted him to feel unworthy or lost again.

Then suddenly, Alex pulled away. I saw it in his eyes first, the sheer confusion and shock. And then understanding dawned on him, and I, too, realized what I’d done.

He could see each and every memory as piercingly raw as I could, because he was touching me—I was touching him. Everything he never wanted to think about again was more alive than ever between us.

Instantly, I panicked. “Wait—” I said, reaching for him as he moved back. “None of that matters. You’re good, Alex. They were wrong—”

“No,” he growled. “Stop.”

“Alex—” I grabbed for his hand, but he tore it away and backed into the nightstand and it crashed against the wall, stopping me where I stood. I’d never seen him look so horrified.

“Please, Alex—” I shook my head. “I know I seem crazy right now, but—”

“You pity me,” he rasped, and I saw the disgust on his face.

“No, I don’t—”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re not talking about this right now—and don’t look at me like that.” He demanded, and my heart ached at his words.

I tried to swallow my emotions before I lost whatever composure I had left. “Like what?”

“With sympathy,” he bit out. “Like you feel sorry for me.” He was angry. Alex had never been angry with me before.

My eyes clouded with tears as the distance between us became colder and colder the further he drifted away. “I don’t—”

“You can’t lie to me, Sophie. I know exactly how you’re feeling.”

“Then you know how much I care!” I bit back at him.

“What’s going on?” Elle said, rushing into the room. Her hair was mussed, her eyes like saucers, and her face was cast in hallway shadows. “I heard a bang and shouting.” Her gaze swept over me, then she looked at Alex and stepped into the room. Jackson appeared in the doorway behind her.

“Is everything okay?” he murmured.

But Alex just stared at them, then finally, he glared at me.

Everything continued to spiral. “Alex,” I whispered. “I’m sorry I said anything. I—”

“Everything’s fine,” he ground out, and sidestepped me. He grabbed his sweatshirt, hanging on the back of his door, and strode past Elle and Jackson, putting as much distance as he could between us.

I stopped breathing for a moment, waiting for him to turn around and come back, until finally, I felt the permanent distance between us. I exhaled and my chin began quivering again. My heart wasn’t only heavy with memories and dreams, but in that moment, I knew deep down that this was the point of no return. My legs gave out beneath me and I crumbled into a quaking heap on Alex’s bed. I wasn’t sure if it was my changing Ability or if it was what I’d seen in Ross’s dreams that brought so much to the surface, but I could barely think straight.

“Shh,” Elle whispered. “I’m here, Soph.” She wrapped her arms around me, but she didn’t ask me what happened or tell me everything would be okay, because she knew, as she held me, that there was nothing that could be said to mend a broken heart.

No matter how much I wanted it, things would never be easy between Alex and me, and whatever remaining hope I’d had that we’d find common ground was gone. Probably forever.

16

Alex

Idleness wasn’t something I’d ever been all that good at, so while the rest of the world slept, I made my way around the property, checking on everything after the rain. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway, not after what happened with Sophie, so I hadn’t even tried.

I made my way around the greenhouse, tipping the extra water off the top of paint cans and out of the potted plants so they would dry in the sunlight. I repositioned the tarp over the stack of two-by-fours outside the pasture fence, waiting to be installed in the barn loft, and I stared at the muddy pasture that would make one hell of a Slip ’N Slide if Thea and Beau noticed it before it began to dry. The trough was a quarter of the way full with water, though, which was a plus since we were getting the livestock at some point today.

As I made my way back toward the house, dreading the awkwardness once everyone was awake, I noticed movement in my periphery.

Luna, black like the shadows, trotted between the trees and deeper into the woods, Rocky and Little Foot following after her. The wolves had it easy, coming and going as they pleased. They operated on primal instincts, focused and without confusion or second thoughts. Meanwhile, it was all I could do not to think about Sophie.

I stared up at her bedroom window as I drew closer to the house. “I’m so sorry.” The rawness of her voice still hummed in my ears; and in that blurry moment, between what I assumed at first was a dream and then reality, I thought she’d been talking about us. For a split second, I’d even embraced it, allowing myself to forget about Phil and about her leaving me in the lurch the other day by the river. But that wasn’t what she was talking about at all. She wasn’t in my room because of us, she was there because of me. Because I’d completely undone her without even meaning to.

Her kiss, which had allowed me to see for a single second how badly I’d wanted her to do that, left the bitter taste of pity in my mouth. I hated the sympathy in her eyes. I hated it like I hated every dark thought and lingering regret. She wanted to fix me and make me better, and all I wanted was to forget all of it and never look back. There was too much feeling. Too much remembering. Too much of everything I’d tried to move away from for so long.

More than anything, I knew Sophie needed to be free of me so that she could get better, because I wouldn’t be the reason she lost sleep at night. I wouldn’t be the reason she cried or why agony crumpled her face like that again.

Stopping at the cabins, I ran my hand over my face, exhausted and disgusted with myself. I wasn’t sure I could say what needed to be said, but after last night I had to, and that’s why it hurt so much. Sophie was part of my life and my closest friend, even if it was hard sometimes. I felt things for her I’d never felt for anyone, but it was too much for both of us. She needed to get her Ability under control so she could close her eyes and simply sleep. And I needed . . . space. Each time I touched her, it felt like every scab was being torn off, and every wound reopened. I wasn’t ready for that either. I couldn’t forget if I always had to remember.

A cupboard slammed inside the house, followed by the muffle of voices. Thea was clearly awake. When you were the shortest one in the house, you found creative ways of doing things to get what you wanted when there was no one around to help, but that didn’t mean she was quiet about it.

“Alex!” The deck creaked as Elle walked up to the railing and peered around for me. I should’ve known she’d be worried once she realized I wasn’t in the house, and I couldn’t prolong seeing Sophie any longer.

Scrubbing my hands over my head, I walked toward the deck. When Elle heard my footsteps, she glanced down at me.

“There you are!” Thea chirped, stepping up on the rail to see me better. “I’m having cocoa.” She licked the chocolate from her lips and lifted her mug.

“Like clockwork,” I told her.

Elle leaned her elbows on the railing, and the scent of bacon met my nose as I drew closer. “Do you want breakfast?” she asked. Her dark hair hung down around her face, and I could see the concern in her green eyes. “Jackson’s making bacon and hash browns.”

I stared down at my stomach as it rumbled in answer. “Apparently.” Shoving my hands in my pockets, I made my way up the steps. I took them slowly and one at a time, knowing there was something more she wanted to say. She watched me as she sipped on her coffee, a contemplative and bemused look in her eyes.

“I’m fine,” I told her. I might have been an exhausted, conflicted mess, but I would survive. “I should probably talk to Sophie though.”

Elle nodded, staring at me over the brim of her mug.

“Sophie went for a run,” Thea chirped, licking hot chocolate from her lips. Her hair was a tangled mess, and she still wore her princess nightgown. “She said she needed to sweat.”

“She just left a few minutes ago,” Elle added, glancing in the direction of their run route.

“And you didn’t go with her?” That seemed odd.

Elle shrugged, but I knew she couldn’t have been as nonchalant as that. “She was extra anxious this morning. She didn’t want to wait for me to finish my coffee.”

I frowned. “We’re supposed to do everything in pairs,” I reminded her; it was Elle’s rule, not mine. And even if we didn’t have to worry so much about the General now, there were other reasons to stay together, reasons that had four legs and sharp claws; reasons that walked on two legs and could look friendly when really they were fiendish.

Elle took another sip from her mug, eyeing me like she was waiting for me to catch on to something.

“What?”

She shrugged again. “You could still catch up to her, if you leave now.”

“Aw, yes.” I inhaled a deep breath, realizing it was all part of Elle’s plan.

“She really shouldn’t run alone,” she added.

I glowered at her, but Elle’s mouth quirked in the corner. With a sigh, I resigned myself to grab my tennis shoes. Give me a hammer and busted fingers over cardio any day because running wasn’t my thing. Regardless, it looked like I was going to talk to Sophie, whether I was ready to or not.

* * *

When I finally caught up with Sophie, she was only a mile out; her pace was steady but faster than I was comfortable with. And while she was barely breaking a sweat, my heart was pounding and my body tensed in protest.

“Soph!” I rasped.

Her hair swayed with each bouncing step, and she peered behind her, doing a double take. “Alex—what—”

“You didn’t think Elle would let you run alone, did you?” I allowed myself to slow a little, and fell into jogging steps behind her.

Her eyes twinkled as she took in the sight of me, and she tried not to smile.

“What’s so funny?” I barked, wiping the sweat from my brow as I forced myself to keep pace with her. I might’ve been stronger and had bigger biceps than her, but she was the athletic one.

“Nothing, I just—I’ve never seen you run before.”

I rolled my eyes. “What, like it’s hilarious or something?”

Sophie’s eyebrow lifted in surprise. “No, that’s not—” She shook her head and refocused on the road ahead. “Never mind.”

I glanced ahead, where the road began to bend, and wondered how far we were going. “How far do you generally run?” Even if the air was still damp and chilled against my sweat-dampened skin, I could already feel the heat of the morning sun. I didn’t like it.

“Five miles—well, four and a half,” she amended. “I think I’ll make the full five today though,” she said beneath her breath.

Groaning, I slowed to a walk. “Soph,” I breathed. It was too hard to keep up and talk at the same time. “Sophie!” I called as she jogged further away.

She made me stew for a few more steps before she finally slowed down. She waited another painstakingly long second before she braced her hands on her hips and reluctantly looked at me. “What, Alex?”

“I know neither of us want to, but we should talk about last night.”

With a forced laugh, she threw her arms up. “Unlike you, I have no problem talking about last night.”

I smiled because she was so full of shit. “So, about that kiss then . . .”

Her red cheeks bloomed even brighter, and she glanced away, like the hills lining the road were suddenly much more interesting.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Narrowing her eyes, she glared at me. “Yeah, I kissed you. It didn’t go over very well. What about it?”

I stepped closer, tentatively so as not to give her the wrong idea, or maybe it was to buy myself more time before I got too flustered and lost the determination I’d been rallying all morning.

“Well?” she said, heaving a breath. Her nose was pink from the cool morning, and her chest was heaving. She was beautiful, actually, and I hated that this was so damn hard.

“Look, I know things between us are complicated. There’s no need to glare at me.”

“Alex, things are complicated because you make them that way. It’s all pretty straight forward to me.”

I clenched my teeth together. She was good at spewing rebuttals and reasons, but half the time she didn’t believe them, not wholeheartedly anyway. “So, you like seeing all that shit when you touch me?” My voice was harder than I’d meant, but it needed to be if I was going to be able to say all that I needed to.

Her mouth opened, but she couldn’t bring herself to lie to me. “Well, no I don’t, but not because I think differently of you.”

“No?”

She stared at me, unblinking. “No, I don’t.” Her tone was terse and unwavering.

“So, when you kissed me last night it was because you woke up and thought, ‘Alex is hot and I really like him, I’m going to walk in there for an impromptu make-out session’?”

Her eyebrow twitched, but when she said nothing, I continued.

“It wasn’t because of all the crap you feel because of me—because of what I feel? Or how overwhelmed you were because of it? Because when you touched me, Sophie, I was overwhelmed. I felt everything you were feeling, and it was a thousand times worse than the shit that’s in my head.”

Her jaw clenched and her eyes shined crystal clear, but she continued listening without argument.

“Sophie, we can’t do this.” The words were almost a plea. “This isn’t the way it should be.”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to tell you, Alex? It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Why, because you’re scared?”

“Hell yeah, and for a dozen other reasons.” I tried to steady my breath, but my chest was too tight.

She rolled her eyes and looked away from me, like I was being ridiculous. “You’re overthinking it—all of it.”

“Am I?” I took a few steps closer, more determined for her to accept the truth the more she refused to listen. “Sophie, you came into my room last night, devastated and in tears, because of me. How could I possibly want that for you? It’s hard enough for me to get out of my own head, I don’t want to be in yours too. I won’t be the reason you’re distracted and not sleeping. I won’t be a burden to you.”

“You’re not a burden,” she nearly shouted. “Stop saying that.”

While her words were like a sweet song to my ears, I couldn’t get that look of anguish on her face out of my head. I couldn’t ignore the sadness and the misery I’d felt blaring so much louder than all the other feelings that had consumed her in that moment.

“You’re only saying this because of what happened with Phil the other day,” she said, and it almost felt like a scolding. “It’s why you’re so willing to go to the plant. You’re punishing me.”

“What? No, I’m not. Give me some credit—”

“So, you’re not mad?” she bit out.

“Yeah, I mean”—I shrugged, searching for intelligible words—“I was pissed, but I get it now. And I’m not blaming you for what happened, but you need to get your Ability under control or you’re gonna go crazy, Soph.” I thought about her dream of Phil, and how peaceful she’d looked when she’d said his name. “And I’m a huge part of that.”

“Yeah, well, I’m working on it.” She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed like I was being unreasonable. Maybe I was. But it didn’t feel that way. It felt like distance was the only option, for now anyway.

I flexed my hands at my sides, willing myself to say the painful words I knew needed to be said. “I think,” I started, forcing my tongue to work. “I think I should take a step back and you should keep practicing with Phil. He can help you and be there for you in a way that I can’t.” Every word out of my mouth was a sledgehammer against my heart, but it was the truth.

“What?” she spat. “Why does that sound like a breakup and we’re not even together?”

I smiled, exasperated, and shook my head. The situation wasn’t funny, it was maddening. I didn’t know the words to say or how to make her understand. “You—” I started. “You’re able to be different with him.” We both knew it was true. “He’s easier for you to be around than me, even if you won’t admit it.”

“Alex—”

“We can’t even touch, Soph.” And I can’t bear to see you in tears because of me anymore.

Her nostrils flared and her arms dropped to her sides. “You act like you want me to be with him or something.” The words were acerbic, like she hated me for thinking it. “He’s my friend, that’s what Phil is. You’re—you. You’re different. I trust you more than anyone. I mean, you’ve been there, through everything.” Her voice broke a little as she took a step closer, and I hated the words that came out of my mouth next.

“But it’s too hard,” I admitted. “For me.”

Sophie’s eyes shimmered like fresh rain in the sunshine, and her lips pursed as my words filled the morning air. “I knew it. This isn’t about me or Phil. This is about you because you’re scared. You’re pushing me away because you don’t want me to see things—well, I already have, Alex. And you can’t take them back.”

“No, but I can stop it from happening ever again,” I told her. It was all I could do not to shout the words. “Why aren’t you listening? I don’t want to see you like I did last night again, ever.”

Sophie began to pace, her head shaking, and I knew the tears were coming. I could feel them in the backs of my eyes too. She was right—we were breaking up. I felt it in every tightly coiled part of my body that was just trying to get through this. But as much as I hated to see her upset, I hated to see her suffering more; and Sophie knew I was right about this, even if she was being stubborn about it.

“Sophie—”

“I get it,” she shouted, her eyes darting to me. She wiped a tear from her cheek. “We’re nothing. You’re going to disappear. I’m not surprised—” Her gaze fixed on something in the sky beyond me, her eyes round and riveted.

“Alex . . .”

With sickening dread, I peered over my shoulder. “What—”

“Run,” she said, just as I saw the swarm blotting out the sky. A cloud of mosquitoes was coming toward us. “Hurry!” she shouted and burst into a sprint. I fell into step behind her, racing down the highway a dozen yards before she veered into the trees.

“What are you—”

“There’s a cabin!” she called, though I could barely hear her voice beyond my gasping breath and crunching footsteps.

The earth was moist from the fresh rain, and I realized it was prime mosquito weather, especially so close to the lake. “Damn it!”

Branches whipped over my skin and crunched under my feet, and my eyes burned from the cold air as we ran, probably faster than I’d ever run before. My chest burned with the need of more oxygen, and I wondered what Sophie’s plan was. Tiny flying insects that craved blood had a way of finding it, and no crack or crevice ever seemed too small. As soon as the swarm caught up with us, we’d be in hell itself.

We ran through a grove of trees and over an old walking bridge at a narrow bend in the river. The seconds felt like eons, and I could hear the nascent hum of the mosquitoes behind us.

“Over there!” she called when the cabin came into view. But as she pointed, she stumbled on a branch, and it got caught up in her feet. She landed on the ground with a yelp, and I dropped down to help her to her feet. She grabbed hold of me as I pulled her up. I felt a spark of fear and pain when she leaned against me, and together we hobbled toward the cabin.

She grimaced but kept moving until we reached the door. I shoved it open, practically ramming into it, and we stumbled inside.

Slamming it shut behind us, I gulped for air. My throat and chest were on fire, and my calves burned with fatigue.

Light filtered in through imperfections in the siding. It was a big cabin with a loft and some broken furniture, but nowhere else to go. I took an unsteady step back, trying to catch my breath. We were caged inside—surrounded by a swarm of mosquitoes whose hum was so deafening, my ears rang. They zipped and buzzed around us as the light filtering inside the shack became speckled with black.

“Here!” Sophie shouted. She picked up an old painting tarp and plopped on the ground in the corner. “Hurry—”

We were a flurry of sweaty limbs and heaving breaths as I pulled the tarp tight around us, tucking it in. It was damp from the rain and smelled of mold, and I nearly gagged as I tried to breathe in. I forced myself to ignore the zing of electricity between us, as our shoulders and arms touched, and we settled into the corner of the shack.

“We just have to wait it out until the sun rises higher—until it’s warmer,” I reassured her, and myself. “We just have to hold on a little bit—shit.” I smacked a mosquito on my leg, and looked at her.

Sophie was shivering. No, she was trembling, and in my effort to ignore the exchange between us I’d missed how scared she was and how much her thoughts had spiraled.

“Soph,” I whispered, and put my arm around her. She covered her face with her hands and shook her head.

It wasn’t just fear and the pain of her ankle, but everything from the past eight months that came pouring over her at once—how tired she was of being out of control and feeling weak; how lost she felt. It was all catching up to her, and I was a dark cloud in the center of her thoughts.

Sophie wanted her mom back. She wanted her to tell her everything was going to be okay, that she wasn’t losing her mind and that things would be better soon. But her mom was dead and never coming back, and Sophie was far from in control. Shaking her head, she began to cry.

“It’s okay,” I murmured, pulling her tighter against me. “Everything will be okay.”

She nestled her face into my skin, her feeling of weakness seeping into me, as if it was my own, and the helplessness she hated began to consume her. “I don’t want to feel this way anymore,” she whimpered.

“I know,” I whispered. “It will get better, I promise.” Because I was going take myself out of the equation.

I kissed her forehead and willed her to think about summertime and swimming in the river; about catching frogs with Thea by the water; and the cold nights we all played card games and drank hot chocolate, like things were actually normal in the world. I tried to think about anything that would distract her from the swarm buzzing around us, and the fear that she would never be normal or happy again.

December

4 Months Later

17

Sophie

Even in the heated building, December found a way to seep inside—it was a briskness that hung in the air. Maybe it was the size of the facility that made absolute warmth impossible, or the fact that I knew it was snowing outside, but either way, I shivered and crossed my arms over my chest as I leaned back in my desk chair.

The lights in the administration offices were bright and humming above our small command center of sorts. It was the heart of our questions, queries, and search for answers after everything that had happened, and something for Stanley and me to do when we were holed up inside during a snow storm.

Rusty, the old collie dog mix that we’d found in Whitehorse a few months back, stared at Stanley as he paced in front of the whiteboard. “The question is,” he muttered, and when his voice trailed off, Rusty looked at me, and I shrugged.

He was a member of the small livestock herd that we’d rounded up in August. The two cows we’d originally found hadn’t made it; we thought it was due to grass tetany, after starving most of the winter and then gorging themselves on the lush, water-saturated grass after all the rainfall. But the goats did, and like them, Rusty had settled into his new home just fine once he realized he was fed regularly and had a warm place to sleep.

“Dr. Wesley would’ve considered which biomarkers would thrive and which would die off when she was engineering the Virus,” Stanley continued. I was surprised the carpet wasn’t threadbare as he walked back and forth. Each of his steps was more determined than the last.

In the six months I’d known Stanley, I’d learned he was a verbal processor, even if I was more of a contemplate-in-silence type. So I let him pace, and I tapped my pen on the edge of my desk—which had belonged to Sarah Joran, the warden’s secretary, according to the nameplate—waiting for Stanley to come up for air.

He and I had been pondering the news Nightingale shared with us during her last check-in, over two months ago. The Re-gen camps in Northern California had been confirmed, and we’d all been relieved they remained an opposition to the General. And, since all the dust had settled from the outbreak, survival numbers were starting to trickle in. Refuges were beginning to see an interesting pattern.

Most survivors were between the ages of five and thirty years old. While it made sense that younger, able bodies with better immune systems might have a greater chance of surviving, that wasn’t exactly the case.

“Some survivors were sick prior to the outbreak, some terminally ill, but they survived and are better now. In fact, the Virus might’ve inadvertently affected the dying cells,” I told him, offering poor Stanley any kernel of wisdom I could. He was like a hungry mouse hoarding bits of cheese when he found a question he struggled to answer. No fact was too small, and nothing was coincidence. Everything built to some bigger theory that might never be answered.

“Then, that’s what she wanted to happen. Nothing about the Virus is accidental. It took over twenty years of mind control and countless causalities to perfect for a reason,” he mused.

“Side question,” I interrupted. “Do you think Herodson was crazy before his whole plan to take over the world, or do you think he was part of something gone wrong; discovering he could manipulate people and then a whole new maniacal world unfolded for him?”

“Does it matter?” Stanley asked dryly.

I shrugged and went back to tapping my pencil against my notebook. “I guess not,” I muttered.

“So, the question stands, Miss Sophie,” he continued, staring at his whiteboard of hastily drawn lists and pie charts. “Why would they choose to save even the sick?”

“Maybe Herodson was a sick kid growing up. Maybe that’s why he hates the world.”

Then Stanley’s expression pinched. “Or she did it for herself.”

“Dr. Wesley?”

He nodded. “She has kids, though I’ve only met Peter. And I heard he was a sickly thing before the outbreak.”

“Great. They reproduced.”

“At least it makes sense now, why Beau and Thea both survived, I mean. She has a soft spot for kids or something.”

Stanley nodded to himself as he turned to me. “Yes, or the more youth that survive, the more powerful their Abilities and impressionable their minds. I think the reason depends on who made the decision.”

Stanley and I were dissimilar in many ways, and yet we made a good team when it came to putting all the pieces together. Stanley was better with formulas and precision, given his pharmacist alter-ego in his past life, and he was obsessive-compulsive about everything—from his immaculate attire, completed with one of seven bow ties for each day of the week, to his perfectly straight, legible handwritten notes and organized workstation. I wasn’t quite as organized or put together. My clothes were generally wrinkled and worn more than once, from my jeans to my t-shirts and sweaters. While his notes were stacked perfectly, and his sketches and equations so legible I’d even measured the distance between each letter to see just how ridiculously perfect he was, my journal was a scratchpad of question marks and underlined words, scribbles and squiggles, either marking out words or connecting them.

“That’s why you’ve been so worried he’d come for us,” I thought aloud, and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t realized it sooner. “You knew he’d want everyone who survived, it would be the only way to have complete control.” I shook my head. “But I thought you didn’t know anything about the Virus, I mean, nothing outside of who, what, when, and where.”

He shook his head with a brittle, almost hysterical sound that resembled laughter. “I don’t. You only know what Gregory wants you to know. My mind was probably wiped a time or two if he ever worried I might’ve been a traitor. I know nothing other than many people only follow him out of fear, like me. I wasn’t his friend, I was his toy, just like the rest of his Truth Guards and the Re-gens, even Dr. Wesley.”

“Dr. Wesley? Soft spot for children aside, I thought she was the madwoman behind all of this?”

“Dr. Wesley was always kind to me,” Stanley said thoughtfully. “I’ve thought about her often since I left, wondering if somehow he would punish her for the Re-gen’s rebelling.”

“Why would he do that?” I sat back in my seat, wondering what the hell she would have to worry about as the creator of it all, and if I had the slightest capacity to feel sorry for her. Without her, the General’s Great Transformation wouldn’t have been possible. Without her, he never would have succeeded. Without her, everyone we cared about would still be alive.

“I don’t think she was there by choice,” he said quietly.

Woody cleared his throat in his office, and I glanced down the hall. The door was cracked open, and I could hear his chair wheeling around every so often, and a shuffling of papers when Stanley wasn’t sighing so loudly. I wondered if he was as restless as he seemed, or just the same ol’ crazy Woody, only I was cooped up with him so I noticed it more.

All of us were a little stir-crazy; there was only so much we could do when the snow was so thick. I could’ve been home, but I would only feel claustrophobic. At least here with Stanley, I could keep my mind busy and think about something other than Alex and how much I missed him.

He and Bert had been locked up in the plant for a solid month now that full winter had set in, and his plan to keep the hydro plant functioning was working. Sometimes I was angry at Alex for leaving, even if I knew deep down that space between us was probably a good idea for a while. My dreams had gotten better, and my Ability was becoming a bit more manageable, but I still caught myself hoping Alex was thinking about me and this would all blow over eventually.

Static screeched to life in Woody’s office, followed by a rush of scrambling movements and the squeak of chair wheels. I peered down the hall, toward his office door again.

“Hawk Eyes.” A garbled, female voice said, though it was hard to hear.

I glanced at Stanley. “Hawk Eyes?” I mouthed.

Stanley stared down the hall, like he could see through Woody’s door.

“—is Nightingale. Over.”

“Yeah—I’m here, Nightingale,” Woody said, more animated than I’d heard him in days. “You scared the shit out of me. I thought the demonic bastard finally got you.” Woody chuckled with uneasy relief, and radio static clicked on and off. I waited with bated breath to hear Nightingale’s voice again. She didn’t check in unless she had something important to say, and my pulse quickened a little.

More garbled words emanated from the speaker that I couldn’t comprehend.

“Say it again, Nightingale, you’re too far out of range—I can’t make out what you’re saying. Over.”

“—dead.” Her tone was pitched and anxious.

“I can’t understand. Nightingale, do you copy? Over.” He said the words slowly then clicked over again.

When she spoke again, her consonants and syllables were slow and fuzzy. “—is dead. Do you copy?”

I looked at Stanley. “Who’s dead?”

His eyes didn’t move from the doorway.

Woody’s office was silent for so long, I considered barging in when I heard the squeak of his chair again. “Repeat that, Nightingale. Because I could’ve just sworn you said the son of a bitch is dead.”

There was more static and then a single, unbelievable word. “Affirmative.” Nightingale slowly continued with a string of words I could barely believe: Re-gens, standoff, and Hope Valley. I stared at Stanley, my mouth gaping as I waited for a reaction from him, but he kept blinking dumbly at the door.

“—the doctor,” I heard next, and I rose slowly to my feet. There was more fuzziness, then she said her final words. “—dead—go—soon.”

“Nightingale!” Woody shouted, and the radio rattled as he pounded on it. “Don’t disappear on me, now, God damn it.” But when he let go of the handle again there was only static.

Stanley’s eyes finally met mine. “If he’s truly dead . . .” Stanley swallowed and shook his head. “If he’s dead,” he repeated, “there is no more puppet master.”

I tried to wrap my mind around the possibility of General Herodson being nothing more than a distant nightmare now. He’d left our lives on a whisper, the same way he’d been brought in. Suddenly, the past seven months felt like a waste, but at the same time, I’d never been so unbelievably grateful for Hope Valley, whatever it was.

“I’ll go tell the others,” Stanley whispered, and took off down the hall to find Phil and Ross. His dress shoes pattered against the linoleum, and then the connecting door to the hallway creaked open. Stanley was gone in half a second, leaving me alone with my incredulity.

The tall menacing man with severe, dark eyes and narrowed features that haunted my dreams, was gone? Dead—as in forever? In a world where reanimated corpses bred armies, I wasn’t sure I could believe there was no more General Herodson, bringer of death and plotter of mass destruction. And how did Nightingale know this? Had she been there?

There was a rustling, an unexpected growl, and then a crash inside Woody’s office. Despite Nightingale’s good news, I got the feeling Woody wasn’t all that happy about it, and while my gut instinct was to take a step back, I inched my way closer instead.

Slowly, I walked down the hall to his office, stopping for a moment at his partially closed door. Hating the General and fearing him had given Woody a purpose. With no more plots to sniff out or conspiracies to investigate, what would he do? I knew what it felt like to have your life turned upside down by the death of someone you loved, and in Woody’s case, loved to hate. Lost, alone, and maybe even aimless.

Woody’s office chair creaked, and quietly, I rapped my knuckles against his door.

“Come in,” he called roughly.

I pushed the door open and poked my head in. Woody’s sullen face brightened when he saw me. “Ah, Sophie.” He waved to the high-back chair across the desk from him. The same chair I knew Stanley sat in each evening for their routine nightcap. “Please, come in.” He opened a drawer in his desk as I stepped inside. “Is Stanley with you? I have some interesting news.”

“We heard,” I said, glancing around the room. His office was messy and chaotic, just as I imagined the inside of Woody’s mind often was. Papers were crumpled and strewn across the floor. Ledgers were discarded in heaps that looked like they had no rhyme or reason.

“Oh good. Well, I was just about to celebrate with a little something from my secret stash.” His steely-blue eyes twinkled as he set a stout bottle of scotch on the desktop, then he grabbed a used highball glass—empty, but the bottom of it was stained with amber liquid—and poured a few fingers full. “Care for a drink?” He peered around his office, eyes shifting over the mountains of disarray stacked around him. “I have another glass here somewhere—”

“I’m okay, thanks.” I sat down in the chair. It felt strange to be in a place I’d only ever seen through Stanley’s eyes—like déjà vu, only I knew I had been there before, if only in a dream of sorts.

Woody took a gulp from his glass, and his eyes rolled shut as he swallowed. With a quiet hum, he licked his lips. “Sherry and American White Oak,” he practically sang.

“Are you celebrating,” I asked, “or mourning?”

His eyes popped open. “Well, a little bit of both, I’d reckon.” Although his voice was chipper, it was also contemplative. “What about you, Sophie? Not in the mood to celebrate? I’d think you’d be happier knowing Herodson can’t hurt you all anymore. You don’t have to worry so much about Alex in that tin can of a place now.”

Alex wasn’t on my mind because I was worried about the General, but I didn’t bother explaining that to Woody. “I’m not sure I’ve processed the news, to be honest,” I admitted. “I mean, what if it’s not true, and he’s still alive? What if it’s only a rumor or a ploy?”

Woody bowed his head slightly, like he was holding his tongue, and he poured himself another glass. “You know how you leave the house sometimes and there’s an incessant discomfort in the back of your mind that you forgot to shut off the coffee pot, or lock the door, so you go back to check, and sure as shit, you did forget.”

I blinked at him. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“It’s like that with Gregory,” he explained. “I can feel a part of me is gone, I have for a while now, only I wasn’t sure what it was—the edginess. But, it makes sense now.” Woody stared into his glass, and even if I wasn’t entirely sure what he was talking about, I could imagine the strange connection they might’ve shared.

“Did you know,” he started again, his bushy eyebrows popping up as he looked at me, “I think some small part of Gregory is alive inside of me.”

My lips parted with shock, at first, and as I considered the implications of what Woody was saying, it became more of a stomach-churning, abject horror. “What?” I’d always wondered what happened to Woody all those years ago when he’d known the General, but I’d never considered it was something quite that terrifying. “Like . . . how?” Woody had been sure to keep that part of himself private, something he could easily do when I was around, since he could block my Ability with a single thought.

He leaned back in his chair and sucked air through the gap in his teeth. “I was part of the first experiments,” he said. “Back when I was twenty years old, and Gregory was still a Lieutenant. The Air Force was recruiting young soldiers for special ops—we didn’t know what it was for, but we’d been approached by our commanding officer. My squad leader, Sergeant Miller, and I signed up immediately—two young bucks that wanted the prestige of being a part of something bigger than ourselves. They brought us in for an interview, accepted us into the program after a few days of testing, and once we passed, we were separated. They took Miller down one hall, and me down another. We thought it was part of training, but I never did see him again.”

“Do you think he died?”

Woody looked at me, his thoughts far away. I wondered if he thought of Miller often, or if he hadn’t thought about him in years. “I have no idea.” A small smile crept over his lips. “Gregory was working with the pretty doctor back then, only she was contracted with King Laboratories at the time, instead of the military.” His eyes flashed to me. “Dr. Wesley.”

“Wait, like avian flu—King Corporation? The company that was plastered all over the news during the outbreak?” The missing pieces began falling into place. Even if I’d known that getting us to where we were had entailed an intricate web of manipulation and game of strategy, seeing the moves on the board for the first time sent chills down my spine. “Wow, Herodson did have his hands in everything, didn’t he?”

Woody poured himself another drink. “Mind control is a frightening thing, Sophie. And I’m sure Gregory isn’t the only one who can do it.” He knocked his drink back and exhaled the fumes like his mouth was on fire.

“What did they do to you?” I wasn’t sure I should ask, but I couldn’t help it. He was offering more pieces to the puzzle, and I wanted to see the full picture.

“Not much at first. For a few months, the doctor was testing my brainwaves and response times, at least from what I understood of it, and I was fine with that. I took a lot of aptitude tests and did a lot of physical conditioning as she monitored me. It made sense to me at the time; it was what a soldier did—strict diet regimen, seclusion training, workout routines that knocked you on your ass. But after a few months into it, everything changed. The doctor stopped coming to see me. Instead, a new doctor, an old guy that smelled like pickled cabbage started working with me, and a few months after that, Gregory started stopping in more frequently, which I thought was weird.”

“Why?” My voice was barely a whisper.

“Because I’d only seen him on occasion before, when he’d come to check on the lady doctor’s progress. Suddenly, I was seeing him more and more, and as the months went on, and they started injecting me with more and more muscle enhancer,” he drawled using air quotes, “and I kept getting sick, the doctors kept changing. It was like there was a new one nearly every month and Gregory was growing more and more impatient, until one day, he just snapped.”

Woody looked down at his glass, staring at the last amber drop in the bottom. “My mind was fuzzy a lot after that. There were parts of my days missing. Sometimes it felt like weeks. Time seemed to blur, and I had no idea what they were injecting me with, or maybe I was sleeping in my room the whole time, wishing I was dead—the fevers,” he clarified. “They were brutal.”

“What do you think was wrong with him?”

“A woman,” Woody said easily. “The doctor.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because there are only a few memories I remember clearly during the last few years I was there, and one was the night Gregory came into my bunk, a drunken mess, spewing about women and how conniving and vicious they were. He told me he’d prove her wrong, whoever she was. After that,” he shrugged, “well, we’ll just say that Gregory was more involved in the treatments. I knew the instant I got away that I was different, and if it wasn’t for the doctor, I wouldn’t have known just how different.”

“Wait, she helped you?”

He dipped his chin in answer. “I only saw her that one last time, she was like an angel in my dreams. I remember her standing above me when I woke from a fever, and at the time, her words didn’t make much sense. She told me about guard changes and to go north and never look back. She told me what my mind was capable of, and that my Ability, my ‘nullification mutation’ were her words, was the only thing that would protect me from him. I woke the next morning, thinking it was all a dream, but then I found my door was left slightly open, and I got the hell out of there. So, here I am. I’ve been in the North ever since.”

Woody scrubbed his hands over his head, making his hair stand on end. “Gah, no wonder you all think I’m crazy.” He laughed his flippant, crazy, Woody laugh, but I heard the tinge of hysteria in it now. I knew the years of fear behind it, and I knew without seeing it that Woody was just trying to get by like the rest of us, and he had been for years.

“But you never spoke out about it—all of your broadcasts and your conspiracy theories that you knew were real—”

“I do have a few of my marbles left,” he said wryly, and poured himself another gulp of scotch. “And I’ve never been the suicidal type.”

“Woody,” I breathed, realizing this was all still new to us. We’d been living with it for a year, but for him . . . How much of his life had the General taken from him? “How long were you in that facility?”

Woody sat back in his chair and scratched the side of his face. “Seven years, give or take.”

“I just—I don’t get it.” I said. “How could Dr. Wesley be both good and bad?”

Woody’s eyebrow quirked up with a ragged exhale. “I guess it just goes to show that people aren’t one or the other. At least when she was around, there was a modicum of humanity, or at least, I think she tried. Stanley and I are proof of that.”

I let Woody’s story sink in, trying to reconcile the monsters in my mind with the characters in his story. “You’ve always been so private. Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because even if I don’t know what Gregory did to me in those missing years, I’ve felt this hum inside of me ever since I left that place. And the further away I got from it the less I could feel it, and now, it’s completely gone.”

I wasn’t sure how much of Woody’s theory was true, but anything and everything was possible. A super deadly, super secret, gene-altering virus couldn’t have been the only project Herodson was working on, especially if he needed to perfect it before it could be unleashed. “So, that’s it,” I whispered. It was over, at least any threat of the General. We just had to hope that whatever and whoever he left in his wake would stay away and we could try to live like normal people again—or, at least as normal as power-wielding superhumans could live.

“Wait,” I shot up in my chair. “If there’s no more General, that means we don’t need the prison to be completely functional right? I mean, Alex and Bert don’t have to live at the plant twenty-four seven anymore.”

“Well, I guess not—”

Fast and heavy footsteps preceded Phil as he rushed into the office, face flushed and out of breath. “Is what Stanley said true? Is he dead?”

Woody pushed the bottle of scotch toward him. “Sure is. Take a swig to celebrate—hell, take a few. I am.” Woody’s eyes were more animated than before, and I was a little bit relieved for him.

“Wait—Phil,” I said. “You have the snowmobile, right?” I could barely contain the excitement in my voice. Or maybe it was a little bit of apprehension.

“Yeah, why—”

“I need to borrow it. I need to go to the hydro plant so I can tell Alex and Bert the news. If I hurry, maybe we can make arrangements for them to come home tomorrow, for Christmas Day.”

Phil nodded. “It’s getting late. I’ll take you.”

I rushed down the hallway, realizing how much this changed things. There would be no more prepping and planning to fight shadows and rumors, and we didn’t have to look over our shoulders quite so much. “Elle is going to freak out with excitement when she hears the news.”

18

Alex

After a month of living at the hydro plant, fatigue was a constant and the distant churning of the turbines two chambers over had become white noise and barely noticeable. Though I couldn’t say as much about my roommate.

“Her body’s nice, but her bush looks like Bob Ross’s afro, man,” Bert said with a chuckle. “Look.” He held the unfolded pages out to me, and I leaned away, cringing.

“Dude, never use the words ‘nice body’ and Bob Ross in the same sentence, okay? Especially if you expect me to look. That’s gross.”

“I’m just saying, it does.”

“Well, I don’t care. It creeps me out that you look at porn while I’m lying right here.”

“I’m not getting off. It’s just to pass the time.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“For real. There are actually some interesting articles. Look, January Playmate Kitty Maze finds love and patriotism in the back of a 1969 Chevy—”

“Yeah, yeah.” I rolled my eyes, and I didn’t have to look at Bert to know he was thoroughly amused by my reaction. “Every day it’s the same thing,” I muttered, and I balled my pillow beneath my head to settle in for the night.

In the first week, we’d discovered how imperative it was that we stay in the same vicinity, no more than two rooms or a couple dozen yards apart. Too much strain made Bert sick, like the output was too much, and he couldn’t stay conscious. It was a rough start to what felt like a long-ass winter, but we were figuring it out. It only took thirty-six hours to retrain ourselves to always be thinking about the turbines, even if it was far back in the recesses of our minds, so that they wouldn’t turn off. Intention was key in all of it. At least we didn’t have to touch each other for me to be able to amplify what Bert could do, like I had to do when we’d first started, which had been awkward.

After two weeks, we’d settled into a reliable rhythm of daily system checks for pipeline pressure and transmission wire concealment. We checked the rotors to make sure they were well oiled to prevent stalling, which we’d learned about firsthand after the first snow. We had dinner in the old break room, each of us taking turns cooking whatever we felt like out of the ingredients Elle brought over, always adding in an additional surprise ingredient we made each other guess. Bert had yet to guess correctly, and I blamed a lifetime of smoking weed and seared taste buds from cigarettes for that.

Three weeks in we’d swapped all of our stories worth telling—Bert asking me questions about police run-ins, “tween” drugs of choice, and my experience with the foster care system, with an emphasis on whether there were any hot foster moms, to which I answered: Dude, no. We talked about Bert’s love of fly fishing, old school rock ‘n’ roll, and the time he met Johnny Cash; Bert was so excited, he thought he was ‘walking on sunshine’. When he was feeling more open, we talked about his three kids, one of whom hated him; about what a cool grandpa he was; and about his high school sweetheart of forty years who was the mother of his children, although they’d never married.

At night, we lay on our respective cots in the small square bunk room, drained but restless, and usually unable to sleep. The ceaseless humming under my skin kept my muscles amped enough so that even in exhaustion, sleep never felt like more than a quick doze.

Whatever my Ability actually was—super-charged blood, kinetic mind energy, ultra-firing neurons—as long as we were in the same room, my energy feeding off of his, it was always . . . on. It was like I was the grease and he was the friction, and the turbines just kept moving as long as we were together.

So, it was Bert and me. Together. A lot. Our bunk room was a bit larger than my room at the house, but not by much, and the air had a constant tinge of oil to it that I’d come to appreciate. While the average outside temperature was around twenty degrees, the air in the hydro plant was warm and humid, almost like I imagined Phil’s beloved Florida might’ve been during the summer.

With a purr, Grubber, the resident fluffy, tabby cat that had survived in the engine room, living on rats and mice since last December, jumped up onto my cot. She’d gone from semi-feral after being alone so long, to being queen bee in the facility, sleeping with me and eating scraps of food that were otherwise questionable.

Her white whiskers twitched as she meowed and rubbed up against my bent leg.

“At least someone is getting some action,” Bert said under his breath, and I glared at him.

“Dude, once again. That’s gross.” I tossed one of my National Geographic magazines at him, and he chuckled with far too much amusement. “You’re like my grandpa’s age.”

While I mostly read stories from the books Thea wrote for me, nature magazines that were left in the lounge, and whatever survival books Beau brought me from the Whitehorse Library, Bert spent his time reading Playboy and Hustler magazines from the 80s. One of a few gold mines, as he called it, that the crew who used to work at the plant had left behind. A stash of Cheetos, half a pack of cigarettes, and a Where’s Waldo book being among the others.

“Did you know that black bears can be brown?” Bert mused from his cot. At least he’d moved on from titty magazines.

“That makes no sense.” I set a well-worn copy of Treasure Island on my chest. “Why aren’t they brown bears then?” I peered back at him.

“They are black bears, but have light colored fur. And according to this, their claws aren’t as long, and they don’t have a hunch, like this.” Bert acted out a hunched-over grizzly, and I snorted a laugh.

“Good to know. If I see anything that terrifying, I’ll be sure to run.”

There was a knock on the door, barely audible over the sound of the engines on the other side of the room.

Sitting up, I glanced at Bert. His American flag bandana half-covered his eyes as he blinked up at me. “Are we expecting company?” he asked.

I shook my head and rose to my feet. I pulled on my boots, untied and falling off, then grabbed the pistol just in case and hurried down the platform steps to the door. The entire engine room was a maze of metal platform levels and closed off workspaces. It was late, and Elle and the others weren’t going to stop by until tomorrow.

When I opened it, my heart beat double-time. Sophie stood in a halo from the spotlight, surrounded by dusk.

“Is everything okay?” I glanced between her and Phil, who stood behind her. Sophie rarely came to visit, not after the way we’d left things, so I began to panic a little.

“Yeah, sorry.” Sophie pulled her beanie off with a tentative smile. “Everything’s fine—great, actually.” Her nose and cheeks were pink from the cold, and she exhaled a visible puff of breath.

Bert practically fell out the bunker door behind me. “What is it? Did something happen?”

“No. Well, yeah.” Sophie cleared her throat to speak up. “Woody heard from Nightingale.” She glanced back at Phil, like she was trying to figure out a way to tell me something.

I took a step closer, waiting for the punch line. “Sophie, what is it?”

“She said General Herodson is dead.”

“What?” I barked.

“No shit?” Bert muttered.

I blinked at her, waiting for an explanation because what she was saying didn’t sound right.

“I was at the prison when her broadcast came in. Ross went to the house to tell Elle and Jackson. I wanted to come here to tell you.” She glanced between Bert and me. “Something happened in California, a place called Hope Valley, near the coast. Woody had heard of it as a possible safe haven, but the General went there and—well, it didn’t pan out the way he thought it would, I guess. Woody’s trying to find out more.”

I wasn’t sure if what Sophie was saying was true, and I had a hundred questions I wanted her to answer. But then she smiled, if a little weakly, and I forgot all of my questions.

She took a step closer. “That means you can come home. You don’t have to stay here anymore.” She looked at Bert. “Neither of you do. You could come home tomorrow for Christmas.”

Go home? I stared at Sophie, at her sparkling blue eyes that burned with hope, but I knew deep in my gut that I wasn’t ready. The time we’d spent apart hadn’t helped. Not yet.

“Except that if we come home, there’s no power.”

“So?” she said quickly. “At least you’ll be home. We can all have a meal together. We’ll have dinner by candlelight, just like we used to.”

I looked at Bert, wondering what he wanted to do. He threw his hands up. “I wouldn’t mind a mini-vacay, but I wouldn’t want to abandon ship too hastily either. It’s up to you, kid.” I felt a wash of relief in his hesitance, and looked at Sophie.

“I think we should stay,” I told her. “At least until we know more.”

I tried not to notice the slight, downward twitch of her smile, or the way she swallowed before she looked away.

“Besides,” I added, “there are dozens of mini-Generals running around out there—he made sure of that. I think it’s safer if we stay, for now.” It killed me to say it, and yet it was a relief too. It wouldn’t be dinner like old times; Phil would be there and it would be awkward, especially since we were still hazardous together.

“And Woody was talking about making this place a sanctuary city, maybe,” Phil said behind her. Sophie peered over her shoulder at him, and he shrugged. “Until we know for certain what we’re going to do, maybe it is better they keep the place going.”

I wasn’t sure what Phil’s angle was—if he liked the idea of my staying away, or if he was trying to help Sophie understand, but I was glad he’d said it. That way I didn’t have to be the only asshole.

Finally, reluctantly, Sophie nodded. “Okay, well . . .” She smiled weakly as she took a few quick steps back toward Phil. “I just thought you’d want to know.” Sophie brushed a loose strand of hair from her face and nodded toward the snowmobile. “Let’s go.”

Phil flung his leg over the seat and sat down, waiting for Sophie to climb on as she pulled her beanie back onto her head. Seeing them together made my heart race and my mouth started moving before I could stop it. “Soph,” I said, and took a step out into the cold.

She looked at me.

“Save me some Christmas dinner, would you?” I smiled, because I didn’t know what else to do. I wanted her to smile away the hardened lines creasing her forehead, or tease me and tell me to come home and get it myself, but she didn’t smile or soften. She simply looked away, wrapped her arms around Phil, and they rode off.

Part II

July

7 MONTHS LATER

19

Sophie

I was warm in bed, with my comforter wrapped around me, filling in all the nooks and crannies. The sun was warm on my face, and I reveled in it as I allowed myself a few more moments before opening my eyes to start the day—especially when he was lying with me.

There was nothing better than sleeping in the arms of the one person I loved more than anyone; holding me, cherishing me, while the rest of the house woke up to start their day. It was the small, infrequent moments when I had him all to myself that I craved more than anything.

His breath was warm on the back of my neck as he held me tighter, and I let out a contented sigh. He smelled like toasted, rich coffee beans with a hint of vanilla.

“Did you bring me coffee in bed?” I whispered, beyond hopeful as I tried to rally myself awake. It was my kryptonite, even when all I wanted was to stay asleep forever.

“Of course I did.” Alex pressed his lips just under my ear, and then again softly behind my jaw. “How else would we celebrate?”

“Celebrate?” I breathed, and as he placed a slow trail of kisses down the back of my neck, my eyes flitted open and I moaned. The sunlight streaming in from the window was almost blinding, and I closed my eyes again. “What are we celebrating?” I rasped.

He pulled me toward him, and his lips brushed against mine, teasing me as his hand cupped the side of my face. “Us.”

I mewed happily, and in a euphoric haze, I pulled his mouth against mine as every single nerve ending I had finally stirred awake. “Don’t stop,” I whispered against him. It felt like I was finally getting what I’d always wanted, what I needed: Alex, with me now instead of just out of reach—and I wouldn’t let him get away from me this time. I kissed him more deeply. “Please, don’t stop.”

With a chuckle, he kissed me harder, and his fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer toward him. His skin was hot beneath my fingertips. He was alive, and he was mine.

I needed to see his chiseled face and the way his brilliant green eyes shined bright with need, but when my lashes flittered open, I screamed. Chestnut eyes set in a pale face with floppy, brown hair stared back at me. “Phil!” I scrambled back against the headboard, realizing he was half naked and that we were in his cabin.

He smiled with lustful eyes and far too much amusement. “You were expecting someone else?” He leaned into me again, but even as I flinched to move away, a stronger part of me leaned closer.

“Phil!” I shot up in bed, gaping as I stared around my room, my real bedroom. My sheets were rumpled, my bedspread was bunched up around me, but I was alone, chest heaving and heart sprinting. I covered my mouth, squeezed my eyes shut, and lay back in bed, hating how my dream had felt like both a violation of every fiber in me, and a guilty pleasure.

I could still feel Phil’s lips against mine, and the weight of his body. It had felt so real and so right for a fleeting moment . . . but it was Phil. As much as I wished I liked him the way he liked me, I still missed Alex.

Flinging my covers off, I climbed out of bed, desperate for some actual coffee to wake up my mind. On bare feet, I padded out of my room and down the stairs to the living room, wondering how late it was since the house was so quiet.

I glanced at the hands on the wall clock in the living room, doing the mental math. It was almost nine, and I’d slept in. Well, sort of.

“There you are—”

“Oh, God!” I shouted, spinning around. Phil was standing in the kitchen with a glass of orange juice in his hand. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Phil took a gulp, eyeing me over the rim of his glass. “Um, drinking orange juice?” During the past seven months, my Ability had become so much easier to control, thanks to Phil, but with that came the knowledge of personal information, like how much he liked me, and that made me feel strangely naked in front of him.

“Yeah, but—why?”

His gaze ran the length of me, scrutinizing my shorts and t-shirt, looking at me like I was crazy, which in all fairness wasn’t undeserved. “Ross and I came to grab Jackson so we can fix that levy at the dam today, but they got sucked into drawing up plans for the fish wheel. So . . .” He lifted his half-empty glass. “Here I am, slurping down some O.J.” He leaned against the counter, relaxed and carefree, with a hint of a smile on his face. “That okay with you?”

I waved his question away. “Yeah, of course. Sorry.” Like I knew how Phil felt about me, Phil knew how I felt about Alex. He had to, even if we’d never talked about it. That’s one good thing that came out of passing feelings around, I supposed.

I walked past him as he gulped the rest of his juice down, and I reached for a clean glass from the cupboard by the sink. This morning, of all mornings, he had to be here.

“You want some?” His arm brushed against mine as he set the juice pitcher on the counter next to me, and I tensed beside him.

“Um—no. I’m good, thanks.”

Phil didn’t move or say anything for a few seconds; he only stared at me from the corner of his eye. “You okay, Soph? You’re acting . . . weirder than usual.”

“Oh, thanks,” I deadpanned, and rolled my eyes. I filled my glass up with water from the tap and gulped it down.

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you? Are you still sleeping wonky or something?”

“Ha!” I barked out a laugh. “You have no idea.”

Phil took a step back with his palms up, like he was afraid to make any sudden movements. “Right, well, I’m gonna go and leave you to your morning 'tude.”

“Hey!” I turned to him. “I don’t have an attitude, I’m just . . . off is all.”

“Whatever you say, Soph—oh, and I found you some vanilla syrup in town yesterday. It’s about six months expired, but I brought it for you anyway, in case you wanted to use it for your coffee, since it’s your favorite. If you don’t want it, you can throw it away.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Phil walked toward the living room.

“Hey.” I called out, and he spun on his heels to face me. “Thanks.”

With a wink, Phil dipped his head. “See you for dinner tomorrow.”

I waved to him in gratitude and waited for the screen door to open and close. When I saw Phil trot down the deck steps, I let my head fall back with a groan. “What the hell is wrong with me.”

“What the hell is wrong with me.”

I needed a lobotomy. Phil was great, and Alex was over us. But something didn’t feel right when I considered something more with Phil. It felt like a lie.

Grabbing his glass, I turned for the sink to rinse it, and saw Thea skipping past the pasture, where her new pony, Big Red, was eating his morning breakfast.

Since the spring, we’d collected ourselves a little Noah’s ark, and every animal we had served a purpose, even if Thea thought Big Red was hers alone. Big Red was sturdy and strong, and pulled the loads too large for the wheelbarrow.

As she skipped into the trees, I scanned the property for Elle or Jackson, but I didn’t see either of them. “Oh, Thea,” I hummed, stepping into the laundry room to slip into my flip-flops. I headed out the door and strolled past the greenhouse toward the pasture.

Lady, our female goat, baaed at me as I hurried past, likely griping that she was still hungry. She was about to have kids, which meant fresh goat milk for a while. And between her and the two males, we had plenty of manure for our methane converter. Our own power source, we’d learned last year, would be important in the winters to come, if Alex and Bert were going to have any freedom.

Bull, the ornery pig, who I swore wanted to eat me every time he looked at me, didn’t bother to register my presence as I marched by. Unlike the other animals who had been more easily tamable, he was a nasty one. He’d probably never become bacon as Jackson intended, since Beau and Thea were attached to all of the animals, but if Jackson won out in the end, I’d be okay with that.

As I drew closer to the woods, I could hear Thea’s voice. “Thea!” I stepped over a broken branch, realizing too late I was not dressed for kid hunting. “Thea—”

“Yeah?” She trotted through the trees with the usual pep in her step.

“What are you doing?” I squinted through the birches and pines, hearing nothing now but the sound of the river through the dense brush.

“Playing.”

I eyed her skeptically. “Playing what?”

She shrugged. “In my fort with Aria.”

I stared into the tree line again. “Since when do you have a fort?”

“Since forever,” she said with a bit of sass.

I looked at her, and her cheeks reddened. “Can I see your fort?”

With a huff, Thea traipsed back into the trees. “I already showed Elle,” she grumbled. “But it’s for kids only.”

“Oh, well, I’m so sorry to intrude. I won’t bother you again, I just want to see where it is. Who’s Aria, anyway? A new frog friend of yours? It better not be a snake. I will freak out if it’s a snake, Thea.” I stepped over a gopher mound, then an anthill.

“She’s not an animal, she’s my friend. Her sister is mean and grumpy all the time, like Beau, so she stays with me sometimes.”

If I hadn’t noticed how much she wanted to play with Beau and how much he pushed her away, I would’ve been a little worried about her imaginary friend, but the poor girl needed a playmate, and I didn’t blame her.

“You shouldn’t be out this far, Thea, especially not without one of the wolves.”

“Well, Little Foot was busy,” she said.

I swatted a mosquito away. That a wolf was too busy to play with a little girl made me laugh to myself. “All right, then maybe you need to build your fort closer to the house.”

“But—” she whined. “We already made it.” She stopped at the base of a large spruce with low hanging branches. Some of them had been broken off, creating a little safe haven in the foliage. There was a blanket laid out underneath, and one of Thea’s coloring books and some of her markers. She had a cushion, I assumed for sitting on, and a box of crackers stuck out from under it.”

I lifted an eyebrow and looked at her. “Snacking, are we?”

She flashed me a sheepish grin. “Well, sometimes I’m hungry out here.”

Tugging on her braid, I sighed and glanced back at the house. I could see the cabins through the pasture fence and the kitchen window from where I stood.

“All right, I won’t make you move it if you promise me you’ll have Little Foot or Rocky with you when you come out here, and you have to tell us when you’re coming out.”

Thea bobbed her head happily.

“You pinky swear?” She held out her pinky. “Okay, if you don’t, you’ll have to move it.”

I smacked another mosquito off my leg. “Damn it,” I muttered, and before Thea could say anything I held up my hand. “That’s not a curse word,” I told her. “But still, don’t tell Elle. I don’t want to cook dinner tomorrow night for everyone.”

Thea contemplated it, like she was scheming up something. “Can I have some honey?”

“And no blackmailing,” I told her. “I’m letting you keep your fort out here.”

“Oh, all right,” she said with a sigh, and after swatting another bug off my leg, I headed back toward the house. I still needed coffee, and to wash away the strange fog that filled my head ever since that dream. Even if it was past nine, it felt too early to worry about mosquitoes, invisible friends, and sex dreams with Phil. Then again, I could be dreaming about less pleasant things, like death and Re-gens, per usual, so I decided to appreciate the silver lining instead.

20

Alex

Sweat dripped down my temple, beading at the tip of my nose as I bent over the side of the fish ladder to hammer in the last of the stepping boards, rotted from too many wet winters. I never thought Hydro Plant Operator and Engineer would be something I could put on my resume, if I ever needed one again. A natural energy source was too precious to neglect, though, even if we were only keeping the bare bones of it running with six pairs of hands. Jackson, Ross, and even Woody could agree on that, especially if Whitehorse could be a safe community again, and since the General was dead, we’d embraced the possibility of what-if.

What if, one day, more people came? What if we kept up Whitehorse long enough to get more hands and able bodies, so that we didn’t have to do it all ourselves? What if civilization could thrive here again?

Even a year and a half after the outbreak, we were still discovering what was left in the world; the cities that were inhabited, the number of survivors. We’d learned about four camps throughout the western continent, with almost 8,000 survivors reported among them. It wasn’t a huge population in the grand scheme of things, but it was more people than I could imagine. And like us, all of them were starting over. We’d only seen a few survivors as they passed through, but none of them stayed. A place like Whitehorse—large, open, and unpopulated—seemed too risky, even if we were proof that it could work. They’d continued south, to communities that were a bit warmer, more established, and better protected, like Hartley Bay.

I hit the final nail into the plank, content I wouldn’t fall in the next time I walked on it, and stared into the rushing muddy water below me. Large, dark Chinook bodies swam upstream in the protection of their wooden trough. A pair of salmon squabbled below, splashing water up at me. With a whip of its tail, one jumped out onto the narrow walkway, thrashing at my feet.

“Whoa, buddy, not on my watch.” I nudged its slimy body back into the water, careful not to get hooked by his beak.

The transition into summer had been easier this time. The days still felt long sometimes, and I still hated the heat and too much sun, but there was always something to do, and I liked to keep busy. There wasn’t as much to do at the homestead anymore, not like before, so I worked at the plant—maintaining the equipment, fixing rusted door hinges, and apparently, talking to migrating salmon. I found that working my butt off passed the time more easily, and I was out like a light by the time my head hit the pillow each night. It meant I didn’t have time to dwell on things.

Another salmon splashed around. “Hey now.” I covered the opening with an extra board as I waited for them to move on down the line. “Beau would kill me if I let one of you die.”

“Talking to yourself now?” Ross called from up at the entrance gate. Rusty barked, his tail wagging as he trotted along the fence line, eyes wild and latched on the shaking slew of fish.

“Gotta talk to someone,” I told him. “You’re too busy acting like you’re in charge up at the dam.”

Ross didn’t seem to mind being the one who called the shots when Bert wasn’t around, but he hadn’t asked for the job either. “Well, someone’s got to keep an eye on things, because you’re clearly losing it.”

“I won’t argue that,” I muttered.

I lifted the bill of my baseball cap and wiped my forehead with the back of my arm, eyeing the herring gulls cawing in their nest on the maintenance shed rooftop. Shit monsters, that’s what they were. They squawked all day and pooped just as much. “To what do I owe the honor?” I asked, collecting my tools. I clutched the extra planks under my arm.

“I just came by to see if you’re about ready to call it a day.”

“I could be, why?”

Ross stared at me for a few seconds, then he lifted an eyebrow. “Dinner . . . tonight,” he reminded me.

“Really? Didn’t we just have dinner night?” I zigzagged my way up the ramp toward the gate.

“I did,” Ross said, leaning against the fence. “You’ve missed the last two.”

“Ha. You’re the one who reported the river was higher than expected, and the spillway needed manual purging.” I pointed at him, throwing his words back in his face. “You even said it was dangerous not to.”

Ross’s lips pressed into a thin line and his eyebrows rose ever so slightly. “I see what you did there,” he mused. “But honey-do list or not, it’s dinner night, and Elle will have my head if you don’t show up again. She thinks I’m running you ragged over here.”

“Nah, she knows better than that.” I stopped at the fence with a sigh. “All right,” I told him. “I’ll call it a day. Let me put my things away.”

I stepped onto the sidewalk and closed the gate, scratching Rusty’s head as he licked my hand and tool bag, and I made my way for the maintenance shed. “I’ll get the door,” Ross said stepping past me.

“Careful of the gulls, they like to shit on everything.” I glanced up at them in the nest in the eaves above, staring down at us like they were waiting for their first opportunity. “I think they’re trying to force me out.”

Ross peered up at the birds and then looked at me, shaking his head. “Do you really like being out here all the time?” He asked the question like it was hard for him to believe.

“Yeah, I don’t mind it. Why?” I set my tool bag on the bench inside, and took a drink from my water bottle. “Is that hard to believe?”

“It’s just, wouldn’t you rather be at the house?”

“Doing what? I mean, I’m down to help with whatever, but they have things under control. You guys need help out here. So, here I am. It doesn’t seem right that you and Bert practically live between the plant and the prison, always working on something, especially not when I can help.”

“It’s different for us though, kid.” I wasn’t sure nineteen years old was exactly kid age, but I didn’t correct him.

“How so?” I crossed my hands over my chest. The way Ross watched me, too thoughtfully, made me bristle. “Just spit it out.” He and Elle had a way of looking at me that wasn’t just curiosity and interest, but bordered on concern, and sometimes I thought I saw disappointment.

“Is this still about Sophie?”

I felt my brow furrow and my shoulders stiffened. “Why does this have to be about Sophie?”

Ross threw his hands up. “All right, play dumb. Forget I said anything.” He waved me out the door. “We better get a move on. Phil’s waiting in the truck.”

I paused, then caught myself. I didn’t loath Phil per se, but he was not my favorite person.

“Not about Sophie, huh?” Ross muttered.

I waited for Ross to step out so I could lock the shed. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” he called over his shoulder and waved toward the truck. “Let’s go.”

Tugging my baseball cap off my head, I wiped the sweat from my brow again and let out a deep breath, rallying myself for what might be a long night ahead. Phil and Sophie were practically inseparable, which I’d fully expected and even encouraged, but it didn’t mean I had to like it. When I saw Phil, I had to ignore the desire to stay behind again.

“You decided to come then?” Phil called out the window as I hopped in the back of the truck.

“Yep.” I climbed into the bed and sat on the wheel well as Ross opened the tailgate for Rusty to jump in.

“Cool,” Phil drawled. He was about as excited as I was.

Ross glanced at me as he shut the tailgate and walked around to the front.

As the truck rumbled to life, I peered out at the hydro plant on the other side of the river, and watched it disappear through the trees as we drove away. Family night with everyone. “Fantastic.”

21

Elle

Stepping out of the barn, with my hair piled on top of my head and my jeans covered in muck, I dumped the bucket of manure into our methane compost bins to process later. I leaned against the pasture gate for a little break. No matter how much time had passed, fish guts, horse poop, and caribou entrails still took a little getting used to.

I brushed hay from the side of my face with my shoulder, and looked around for Thea. “I thought you were helping me this afternoon!” I called, knowing she’d probably stole away to her little hideout. I didn’t much blame her; manure wasn’t really my thing either.

“I’m coming!” she called back.

A brown-and-gold butterfly flitted by and landed on the pasture fence. It was hard to believe it was already July. Summer had settled in more quickly than I’d expected, and time felt like it was flying by. I stared at the acreage that surrounded the homestead, dappled with evergreens that butted up against the pale-blue expanse. This time last year was a flurry of unknowns and constant fear. But things were different now. We were self-sustaining and safe. This place felt like home and it was time to start acting like it was.

I thought about the Ranskins, which seemed to happen more and more frequently. I wasn’t sure we would have considered doing any of what we’d accomplished with the property if it hadn’t been for them. It had been over a year since we’d seen them, and everything was different. We were more settled, and even if they’d always been in danger without some Ability to protect them, it wasn’t the same looming threat as before, making it time for a visit.

Big Red clomped over to me and brushed his velvety snout against my forearm, hoping for a snack.

“Ah, yes. Good afternoon, sir.” I reached down and rubbed his copper-colored forelock, hanging messily over his eye. “You know, most ladies would kill for lashes like yours.”

He nudged my hand again, and breathed in a deep, heavy breath before letting out a disappointed, disgruntled one when I opened my empty palm.

“Thea already snuck you two carrots this morning,” I reminded him. “They were a bit piddly, I’ll give you that.”

What few crops were doing well in the greenhouse weren’t going to win any awards at the fair, but we had enough to get by, even if Beau claimed most of our produce looked questionably edible.

It was a whirlwind raising two kids, and living with two nineteen-year-olds—at least when Alex was around—but animals took the cake. Somehow, they’d proven more sneaky and conniving than the rest, with their big, asking eyes and cute, soft faces. At least most of them had a happy ending in coming to live with us, so far. Big Red’s hooves had been overgrown and his coat was so long and shaggy it was impossible to tell how malnourished he was. But he was a brute now, and thriving.

I patted his neck, almost too far down to reach, and then opened the gate to step inside the pasture. The river was barely a hum on the other side of the trees as I pumped the water from the well into the galvanized trough.

“Thea!” I called again. “Your pony is hungry.”

Big Red slurped as the water filled higher in the tub, and I wondered what other chores Beau hadn’t done this morning, and where, exactly, he was. Ten years old had brought on a whole new slew of temperaments, and his Ability, or lack of it, if you asked him about it, didn’t help his mood either.

The throaty caws of the ravens roosting in the branches above caught my ear, and I peered up at them.

“Are you checking on the goats?” Thea chirped as she ran up to the gate from her fort. Little Foot trotted up with her, lapped up a puddle of water by the trough and continued toward the house, his gray tail wagging the whole way.

“No, I was actually doing your brother’s chores from this morning. Come on,” I told her. “Come feed your horse and we’ll go check on the goats.”

Thea reached her little arm through the boards and unlatched the gate. While she went into the barn to get some grain, I filled a five-gallon bucket with water and made my way to the pigpen to fill up Bull’s trough, and then to the chicken coop to check the nest for eggs. The chickens were my favorite. We only had two, but we were lucky to have that many.

“Done!” Thea sang. “I want to see if the babies are born yet!” She pranced over, and I handed her the half-empty bucket. “See if you can lift that. We’ll put water in their bin while we’re down there.”

Thea grabbed the bucket with both hands and started down the hill. We did this once in a while, her carrying it half-full until I couldn’t stand watching her struggle anymore.

“Where is your brother, anyway? This is the second day in a row I’ve had to do his chores.”

Thea paused, set the bucket down, and brushed the dirt from her knees. That was one thing Thea and I had in common from when I was little, we both played hard. “I don’t know. I’m not his keeper.”

Spoken like an eight-year-old going on seventeen, I thought, and tilted my head slightly. “And what about you? I thought you were helping Jackson with the fish wheel today?”

Thea shrugged and picked the bucket up again to carry it the rest of the way down. “I was, but I got bored.”

“I see. Well, in that case, once we check on the goats, you can help me pick the vegetables in the greenhouse for dinner tonight.”

“Okaaaay,” she drawled.

“I know, it’s riveting work. Here.” I took the bucket from her. “You go check on your goats. I’ll carry it the rest of the way.” Like me, Thea wasn’t a fan of cooking, but we all had to do things we didn’t like to, whether it was because they were boring or stinky.

“Does Beau have to help too?”

“You bet your butt he does. You know the penance for slacking off on your chores.”

She craned her neck up at me. “The what?”

“It means, the punishment—penance is punishment.”

Thea snickered. “Cooking is?”

I winked at her. “Yep. Don’t you agree?” With Alex away—the only one of us who really enjoyed being in the kitchen—we all traded off, and it was my night to manage the dinner brigade.

“If you’re cooking, does that mean we’re having soup?”

I barked out a laugh. “Am I seriously so predictable?” Thea’s dread was hard to miss. The ground was rockier the closer we got to the forest, and I held the water further away from me as it began to slosh out of the bucket.

“Yes, seriously,” she grumbled.

“Oh, you kids are killing me.” I shook my head and dumped the water into the goats’ trough under the tree. “No, that’s not what we’re having for dinner, thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome,” she chirped.

I couldn’t help it. When I got good at something, I clung to it, just like tending to the greenhouse. I’d never thought I had a green thumb before, but once I learned a few tricks, things started to make a little more sense. Like how to keep the pests away by letting lady bugs go inside whenever I found them. Or using the livestock manure and compost to mix with the soil, for a nutrient-rich base. It was the same with cooking. Soups were easy prep, simple to cook, and fed everyone. They were definitely my go-to in the kitchen.

“How many babies do you think Lady’s gonna have?” Thea picked up a stick, which she examined thoughtfully. “Do you think Little Foot will like this one to chew on?”

“Yes,” I said easily. “I don’t think there’s a size he hasn’t been able to chew to nothing yet. And,” I continued, “I think one or two babies would be normal, three if we’re lucky, though I worry we’re going to run out of space if we’re not careful.”

“Lots of babies—goat babies everywhere!” Happily, Thea sang and danced around, as she made her way toward the goats’ little oasis, where the shade met the rocky hill.

Briefly, I wondered who was coming to dinner. It had been months since everyone was together. Everyone had a new groove and new projects. Woody was planning the next phase of his Whitehorse “renovations” in hopes it would become a safe haven to others one day, and communicating with Hartley Bay about setting up a visit; it had become his new purpose in life. We already had the foundation, we just needed the bodies and people willing to work to maintain it.

Thea’s scream pierced the air, and I lunged around the tree. “What—” I stopped short beside her, tugging Thea toward me. Lady’s black and white polka-dot head was low as she sniffed one newborn baby and nuzzled another that wasn’t moving.

Whether it had been alive or was stillborn, I couldn’t be certain, but it was dead now, its eyes bloody holes pecked out of its head. Lady bleated and looked up at me.

I hugged Thea to me as she turned her head away, and I peered up at the ravens on the pine branches above. “They ate him.” Thea’s sobs were one more reminder that the wild was deadly and dangerous in many ways, and it could be cruel and heartbreaking too.

I strained to lift her up into my arms. “The baby didn’t feel anything, I promise. It was stillborn.” It might’ve been a lie, but I hoped it was true. “At least they didn’t get the other one.”

“What about Lady—” Thea’s voice broke with a sob as I covered her eyes and turned to head back to the house.

“We’ll take care of them, don’t you worry.” I heaved out a breath as I made my way back up the hill. The heaviest thing I carried for very long these days was a five-gallon bucket of potatoes. “How about,” I said, pulling in another breath, “you get Lady a nice snack while I get the baby that didn’t make it. Then, after dinner, we can bury it and have a nice funeral, okay?”

She nodded against my chest with a sniffle, and clung to me tighter.

“And the other baby?”

“We’ll make it safe.” As I crested the hill, Ross’s Chevy rumbled up the drive, and I was strangely grateful to see him. More people meant more distractions. Phil climbed out of the passenger seat first, and then to my surprise, Alex stood up in the back of the truck.

I sighed with relief as he jumped out. Reliable, warm Alex. Thea’s favorite person.

She climbed out of my arms and ran to the pasture gate, rustling with the latch before she flung it open and ran to him, sobbing.

22

Alex

The instant I jumped out of the Chevy, Thea ran into my arms with tears in her eyes.

“They ate him,” she cried, nuzzling her face into my arm.

I nearly stumbled back. “Who did what?”

“They ate him,” she sniffled against my tear-dampened t-shirt. “They pecked his eyes out of his head.”

“The baby goat,” Elle clarified as she drew closer. She pointed to the ravens on the branches above.

“Geez.” I hadn’t been expecting that. I wrapped my arms tighter around Thea, squeezing her against me. I hated to see anyone sad, let alone little Thea with her big, brown eyes and crestfallen face.

Phil nodded to Elle and said hello, then bypassed us for Sophie and Jackson who were walking up from the river.

“Where have you been?” Thea squeaked forlornly, picking at a loose string in the collar of my t-shirt. Her cheek was warm and wet against my chest.

“Working at the dam, and you know what I saw today?”

Slowly, her eyes shifted to me, and she pulled in her sad, bottom lip. Luckily, I could always rely on her curiosity to distract her. “What did you see?”

“Big Chinook salmon, and they were coming this way.”

Her eyes flashed wider. “How big?”

“Almost as big as you with big hooks for snouts and slimy, squirming bodies,” I said, tickling her side.

“No!” she retorted with a small laugh. She wriggled in my arms, and I set her down with a laugh.

“Well, they’re almost as big.” I gave her my most sincere face, glad her eyes were glistening with some merriment instead of tears. “I’m sorry about your baby goat, but we’ll figure out a way to keep the rest of them safe, okay?” I brushed the tip of her nose with the crook of my finger.

Thea seemed content with that, and she looked at Ross as he shut the driver side door and walked over. “Alex is going to make sure the other goats are safe,” she told him.

He tugged gently on one of her ribbon-tied braids. “Well, that’s a relief. How’s Big Red doing?”

“Good! You can give him a treat if you want to.” Thea took Ross’s hand and tugged him toward the pasture.

“The others will be here in a bit,” he called over his shoulder.

“Wonderful, that means a full house.” Elle sighed in content and met my gaze. “You’re going to help with the baby goats, huh? Does that mean you’re sticking around for a couple of days this time?” Her delicate, dark eyebrow arched skeptically. “You still have a room here, you know? It might be a little dusty, but . . .”

I fought the instinct to roll my eyes, and gave her a side hug instead. “You act like I’m never here.”

“Maybe because it feels like you never are.” She leaned her head against my shoulder. “When did you get so much taller than me?” she muttered, squeezing her arm around my waist. “It’s different here when you’re gone,” she whispered. I didn’t like the longing in her voice. It made the guilt grow thicker in my gut.

“You just hate being the one to have to cook,” I said lightly.

Elle pulled away with a raised, protesting finger. “That’s . . . actually very true.”

Chuckling, I glanced down the hill as Phil stopped in front of Sophie. The way she smiled when she talked to him, tentative and uncertain, was different than I’d noticed before. He leaned into her for a hug, and I tried and failed not to notice the way his arms tightened and lingered around her waist longer than they needed to.

Sophie pushed him away playfully, her eyes fixed to his for a fleeting moment. Was she flirting with him?

My heart sank as I realized something was happening between them. All of Phil’s patience, waiting for her to come around, was finally paying off. The way she averted her gaze was obvious, so was the way her cheeks reddened. I’d known it was only a matter of time, but it still felt like a sucker punch, and hurt like hell. In our distance, I’d found comfort in knowing I wasn’t hurting her anymore, even if it had been unintentional and out of my control. But the distance still felt wrong; it was still hard, and I hated it.

“We’re starting the fish wheel,” Elle said as we made our way toward the others. “And if what you say is true about the salmon, we’re a tad behind schedule.”

“Nah, we’ll be fine.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, unable to look away from Sophie. “I’ll help Jackson get it up and running.” Even if her slender muscles were well-honed now and I knew she was stronger, she looked tired, and I questioned whether the light shadows under her eyes were because she was still having issues with her dreams or if it was related to other, Phil-related reasons.

He leaned in and whispered something into her ear. Only when Sophie rolled her eyes, elbowing him in his side with a smile, did I relax a little.

Elle and I stopped beside them, and when Sophie’s eyes met mine, blue like the sky and shining just as bright, the air thickened. It was unavoidable these days. We were fuel to a fire I knew could never burn, especially not now. I glanced at Phil again.

“You came for dinner,” Sophie mused with a tight-lipped smile, though I thought a question might linger just below the surface.

This time I was the one who rolled my eyes. “Yes, I came.”

Her gaze shifted over me. “So, how long are you staying this time?” The slight curtness of her tone was hard to miss.

“A couple days, I guess. For Thea.” I couldn’t help but throw that in there, but I wasn’t sure why. “I promised her I’d figure out how to keep the baby goat safe.”

Sophie’s expression fell into a frown, and she glanced at Thea and Ross in the pasture with Big Red.

“The ravens,” Elle explained, quietly enough Thea couldn’t hear.

Sophie rubbed her forehead and her eyes flitted shut. “Shit. That sucks.”

“We’ll get it figured out,” I told them, peering down the hill, but I couldn’t see the goats through the trees. “Maybe build a covered pen out there, something they can retreat into. Or,” I started, bending the bill of my ball cap, “we can lock them inside the barn until the baby is bigger.”

“Oh, I forgot, Soph,” Phil said, pulling a folded magazine from his back pocket with Randy Couture on the cover. “I found an old Ultimate Fighter issue stashed in one of the cells in block two. You wanna see if we can find anything for ground techniques we might want to try this week? We could see who has the grossest cauliflower ear this issue too.” He winked, and I nearly threw up in my mouth a little.

Sophie snorted a laugh. “You know me so well.” She looked at me once more, then they turned for the deck. “Sure.” And just like that, Sophie and Phil were off in their own little world.

It’s for the best. That’s what I told myself every single time.

“Come on, Elle,” I said, walking to the truck. We’d stopped to get some of my things on the way out. “Let’s go inside. I brought you each something.”

“Oh, presents.” Elle’s voice filled with an unexpected excitement. “Thea will be thrilled.”

Little Foot yipped from under the deck and ran toward Beau as he appeared through the trees, trudging up from the river. Luna trotted more happily beside him, still his ever-present shadow, though her mood tended to be better than his most of the time.

“There he is,” I called. “I was wondering where you were.”

Elle crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow, none too pleased. “I was wondering the same thing. You skipped out on your chores again today, bud.”

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I was in the woods, practicing.” He walked straight past us, as if I wasn’t even there, and up the steps into the house.

Elle watched him sulk his way inside and shut the screen door behind him with a little extra angst. “Welcome to eleven,” she said with an exhausted grin. “It’s a fun age.”

“What’s his deal?” The kid’s life wasn’t all that bad.

We continued toward the house. Elle’s silence was more thoughtful than companionable. “He’s still struggling to communicate with other animals, and I think he’s starting to feel like he’s not as special as everyone else. Not since Stanley told him about the girl he met at the Colony who could talk to all animals and that they could talk back to her. Poor Stanley thought Beau would think it was cool to know there were others like him, but now Beau thinks there’s something wrong with him.”

I tried to imagine what I would think of my Ability if I were eleven years old. It would seem pretty lame, especially compared to Thea’s or Elle’s. But then again, what I could do would make each of them stronger if they needed to be, and that was encouraging.

“I’m hungry,” Thea chirped as she came running back over with Ross in tow. “Can we have a snack?”

Thea and her snacks. I smiled to myself. The fact that Thea was still predictable and steady was comforting.

“How about some dinner instead,” Elle said. “Besides, Alex brought us presents.” She gave me a wink.

“Presents?” Thea’s eyes widened so big the flecks of gold sparkled in the sunlight, and she grinned. One of her cuspids was missing, and there was no more keeping my amusement to myself. I laughed; glad I could still make Elle and Thea happy at least.

“If you set the table for me,” Elle started, and I knew she was about to bribe Thea into doing chores. “I’ll see if I can persuade Alex to give you your present before we sit down to eat.”

“Okay!” she shrieked.

With a rueful grin, Elle pointed toward the house. “You can go in and get settled first,” Elle told me with a soft chuckle. “But you better hurry. You have about five minutes before she thinks she’s finished setting the table and comes looking for you.”

“Actually.” I handed her my backpack. “Take this in for me? I should deal with the goats first.” I didn’t want Elle to have to do it later. She squeezed my shoulder.

“All right.” She slung my bag over her shoulder. “Bring Lady in too, if you would? We’ll deal with the rest later.”

“You got it.” I veered for the pasture.

“Alex?” she said.

“Yeah?” I glanced back.

Elle smiled at me, her eyes sparkling and content. “Welcome home.”

23

Sophie

While Bert and Elle plated the mashed potatoes to go with our elk flank, Phil and I headed out to the garage to get a few extra chairs to set around the dinner table.

“We need what, five more?” Phil asked.

“Uh, yeah.” I glanced back at the house, listening to the voices emanating from inside and watching the silhouettes of everyone inside. It wasn’t often we had everyone in the same place for a single meal anymore, and the house felt full, in a good way, if a bit more crowded.

Usually I’d be happy Alex was home, even if I knew it shouldn’t matter anymore what he did. Even if in the deepest parts of me, it felt like he was still the one. But Alex had been right about one thing: my dreams. They’d changed after he left. I just wasn’t sure if it was because Alex wasn’t around as much, if it was because I had become better at controlling my Ability, or because I didn’t worry about the General anymore. No, my dreams weren’t as overwhelming or frightening as they’d been, but they were still just as . . . vivid.

After having another dream about Phil, a little too similar to the last, I was having a hard time getting him out of my head, and Alex being home only made it more uncomfortable and confusing.

Phil opened the garage door and flicked on the light. Boxes and bins were stacked on the shelves lining the walls, but it was the cobweb in the upper left corner that my eyes darted to. A giant, brown spider lived there. Last I saw, it was sucking the life out of a giant moth. My skin crawled thinking about it again.

“Don’t worry. I got it out of here last week.” Phil smirked and he winked at me.

We snaked around the snowmobiles, our voices and footsteps echoing around us. “Did you kill it?”

“No, I’m not a murderer. But don’t worry, it won’t jump on your face, for now anyway.” His voice was always tinged with too much amusement, often at my expense, and I shoved his shoulder.

“Thanks,” I drawled. “For both that horrifying image, and for getting it out of here.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said. “Arachnid wrangling.”

I liked Phil, I always had. I liked his laugh and the way he made everything feel so easy all the time. He liked to go hunting and spar with me; he even sat with me sometimes when I wrote in my journals, completely bored out of his mind. Still, he was always present and interested in me as a person. But the uncomfortable fact remained that as much as I liked him, Phil wasn’t Alex. I didn’t feel a tingle like I did when Alex stood too close or looked at me for too long. I didn’t feel the slow burning need to grab on and never let him go.

I thought about my recent dreams, and wondered if my mind wasn’t forcing me to move on. Or maybe it was only my hormones, because my dreams felt so real, they stirred something deep down in my core. Thinking about Phil’s lips on my skin sent a swirl of heat through me, and as strange as it was, I couldn’t say it was wholly unwanted.

Phil reached for a folding chair tucked against the wall and handed it to me. “Here. You take this one, I’ll take the rest.” He pulled out another four chairs, clutching them under his arms.

“Oh, stop it,” I said, claiming one of them. “I’m perfectly capable of carrying more than one of these flimsy things.”

“Are you sure? You were a little slow at practice today.” I didn’t have to look at him to know he was smiling, but I did and I gaped at his shit-eating grin. “Excuse you. I blocked every single one of your advances, and I almost laid you out with that pathetic elbow strike.”

Phil’s grin spread from cheek to cheek. “Because I let you—”

“Bullshit! You’re so full of it.” Shaking my head, I threw my hand up. “Fine. I want a rematch after dinner, and I’ll drop you like a fly in the hot sun.”

Phil tossed his head back and bellowed a laugh. “What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means,” I growled, leaning in closer. “You’ll be sorry.” My eyes fixed on his with the promise of full, unadulterated force. “You’ll be sorry.”

Phil’s eyes twinkled, and I imagined what a guy like him would be doing in a different world, where I wasn’t his only friend and he could go anywhere and do anything. Then I realized, Phil didn’t have to be here with us. He didn’t even seem all that excited that Woody was planning a trip to Hartley Bay, where he could make other friends and be a part of something bigger. Instead, Phil chose to stay here with us, and with me, and that made me more happy and grateful than I’d allowed myself to feel before now.

His joking smile faded ever so slightly, and his gaze shifted over my face, studying me or appraising me, I wasn’t sure which. But this time, I didn’t shy away. His eyes were enlivened—thoughtful sometimes, but always open. I loved his smooth laugh, and the way he looked at me like there was nowhere else he’d rather be. Only he could make reminiscing about the old-world feel like I was just a girl and he was just a guy, and we were just . . . us.

As he stood there staring at me, with his hair falling into his eyes, he was alluring in a way that made me want to be the Sophie he saw, not the Sophie I was. Not confused or conflicted, but strong and open, and worth his attention. I swallowed thickly, remembering the way his body felt pressed against me in my dream, and I reached out to brush his hair off his forehead, suddenly craving the physical touch.

Phil leaned closer, his gaze penetrating mine, and I moistened my lips. “Soph—”

A throat cleared behind me, and I spun around. Alex was standing in the doorway.

“Elle was wondering about the chairs,” he said, his eyes shifting between us.

Phil handed me one more chair then lifted his arms. “Yeah, got ‘em.”

Alex stared at us, until finally, I decided the tension was sickening enough, and I made my way around the snowmobiles and toward the door.

Alex stepped out of the way, and as I passed him, I could feel his gaze scorching the side of my face.

“Thanks,” I muttered, and headed toward the house. Footsteps crunched behind me, but when I looked back, only Phil followed. Alex stood in front of the garage, staring at us as we walked away. I was equal parts anxious and satisfied, knowing whatever Alex was feeling, it clearly wasn’t indifference.

24

Alex

“Yo, Alex,” Woody called from the living room. “You riding back with us tonight?”

I glanced back as he walked into the kitchen with a deep, full-bellied sigh, and patted his stomach. Phil and Stanley stood and stretched by the couch behind him, ready to leave.

“Nah, I have some things to take care of here.” I turned the faucet off and wiped my hands with the dish towel. “I’ve got the ATV. I’ll see you in a couple days.”

“Right on,” he mumbled through a yawn. His eyes were a little glazed over from too much homebrew and food.

Jackson brought in the rest of the empty glasses and set them on the counter, and Elle followed behind him with a question glittering in her eyes.

“I forgot to ask, Woody, how are those root stalks I gave you growing? Are they thriving, or have you forgotten about them already?”

Phil stifled a laugh behind her. Woody had wanted to make himself more useful as he found a new stride in life. And while I assumed it had something to do with the chaos in his mind, we all knew he had the attention span of a five-year-old, and the stubbornness of one as well.

Woody scowled. “No, of course I haven’t forgotten about them,” he said, putting his hands on his hips. But he wouldn’t look Elle in the eye either.

She tried to hold back a grin. “No?”

“No,” he countered, like a petulant teenager. “Stanley would never let that happen.” He muttered the last part, and Elle finally gave in and laughed. Stanley, on the other hand, was compulsive and finished absolutely everything he started. He had the patience for it too.

“Stanley,” Elle said, spinning around. “I guess I should ask you. How is your garden coming along?”

“Hey,” Woody interjected. “I told you I was going to grow the garden, that was my thing.”

Elle smiled ruefully but ignored him. “Thriving?”

Stanley walked in, not so much a grin as a contemplative appreciation on his face. “Yes, actually. I’ve found the tomatoes and bell peppers do well in the covered workout yard between cellblock one and two. They get some morning and evening sun, but not so much direct light during the day. So, I’ve moved everything.”

“You what?” Woody barked with surprise. “You moved the garden? When did you find time to do that?”

Stanley pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Last week, when you—”

Jackson stifled a laugh.

“Last week?” Elle repeated, chuckling to herself, and she wagged her finger at Woody’s chest playfully. “I knew you wouldn’t last a week, let alone a month.”

“Hey now, wait a minute,” he said, scrambling for a comeback. “I would’ve remembered . . . eventually.”

Phil leaned against the wall. “I think you won your bet.” He nodded to Elle. “Which means, Woody is finally going to have to make us his family’s famous Sloppy Joes.”

“That was the deal,” Elle cooed. She patted Woody on the shoulder as his eyes shot frantically around the room. “It’s okay, you’ll do just fine.” She definitely wasn’t letting him off the hook.

Woody looked at Stanley, finally giving in to his fate. It was time to put his money where his mouth was. “Damn it. Why am I always losing?” With resignation, Woody threw his hands up. “Okay, fine. But prepare to have your socks blown off.”

“I’ve actually never had Sloppy Joes before,” Stanley mused. “At least, not that I recall.”

“What!” Woody shrieked. “Never repeat that. It’s an American staple.”

“Come on now, folks,” Bert said, unfolding himself from the recliner. “I ain’t getting any younger. I’ve nodded off seven times in the past twenty minutes.”

Woody grumbled, clearly unhappy about his defeat, and headed toward the screen door. “Seriously, Stanley, I thought I knew you. A grown man and you’ve never had Sloppy Joes?”

Elle sighed with contentment as Jackson wrapped his arms around her. Bert grabbed his bandana off the arm of the recliner and pulled it back over his head. Stanley shrugged on his tweed jacket, and they filed out of the house.

“Until next week then, gentleman,” Elle called after them with a wave. “We’ll plan on dinner at your place next time. I can’t wait!”

Phil stopped in the doorway and glanced back at Sophie. “See you tomorrow, after I’m finished in Whitehorse?”

“Yep.” Sophie’s pink lips parted in a grin. “We’re having a rematch, remember? I promised to school you.”

“Oh, right. How could I forget.” His eyes lingered on hers a second longer, then he walked out.

“Bye Woody! Bye Phil!” Thea called running out after them.

Jackson muttered something in Elle’s ear, kissed her cheek, and headed down the steps, probably to check on the goats in the barn. I headed back into the kitchen to finish cleaning.

“Well,” Elle said, walking in behind me. “That was fun. Thanks for taking care of the kitchen tonight.”

“It’s the least I can do.” I glanced back at her as I wiped off the counter. “Dinner was really great, actually.”

Her mouth gaped with mock offense. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I’m just saying, the mashed potatoes hit the spot.”

“Thank you.” She headed into the living room, and I heard a deep sigh and a plop on the couch. “See,” she continued, “a lot changes when you’re gone so much. I can sort of cook now.”

“Here we go again,” I groaned.

Elle’s soft chuckle drifted into the kitchen as I washed the last of the glasses. The guilt trip was part of the reason I stayed away too. I didn’t want to let Elle or Jackson down, but it was hard sometimes. Staying away was just easier.

After a few minutes, the screen door slammed open and shut, and Thea ran into the kitchen, a whirlwind of energy.

“The goats are asleep,” she announced happily, and her toothless grin made me smile. “So they’re safe, for now.”

Jackson’s heavy footsteps followed and he sat at the table, unlacing his boots. “You did a great job with that temporary pen, Alex. Thanks for doing that.”

“Not a problem. I’ll get something more permanent in tomorrow.” He’d been busy prepping for the fish wheel that would give us all enough salmon for the winter, it was the least I could do.

Beau came out of the den with a frown on his face and his shoulders hanging like the world was ending. I’d forgotten he was even in there; he’d been so quiet since I got home.

“Has anyone seen Rocky?” He asked, and walked into the kitchen. He ran Luna’s empty water bowl under the faucet and set it on the ground by the pantry.

“No, not tonight,” Jackson said. “He hasn’t been around much lately.”

Beau left Luna to her water dish and headed back into the living room. “I’m going upstairs,” he grumbled. Elle had mentioned he was struggling and wished his Ability was different, but the kid had a damn wolf at his side, how much cooler could he get? I had a hard time feeling too bad for him.

“Why don’t we play a game, Beau,” Sophie uttered through a yawn. “It will be fun.” I could hear the hint of desperation in her voice, like she was trying to find some common ground with him and reel him back into the group.

“What game?” he asked, and I was glad to hear a pique of curiosity in his voice, for Sophie’s sake.

I dried off the glasses and placed them back into the cupboard, and felt a little person’s presence beside me. I looked down at Thea. “Uh oh, that’s a devious smile. You want something.”

Her lips spread with a saccharine smile. “Can I have some honey, please,” she whispered and pinched her fingers together. “Just a little bit?”

“Hmm.” I eyed her carefully. “Did you eat all of your dinner?”

She nodded emphatically. “Well, all but two bites of carrots.”

“Well, all right then.” I reached for the honey in the cupboard above me and handed her a spoonful. “Stay in the kitchen and eat it, okay?” I pointed to the dining room table.

With a bobble-head nod, Thea climbed up into a chair and licked at her slimy spoon, happily content.

“You’re a sucker,” Sophie said from the doorway. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her copper blonde hair swayed over her chest as she cocked her head.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

She walked up beside me. “You can’t resist that kid, can you?”

“Not with pleading eyes and a smile like that, I can’t.”

Her cheek lifted with a smirk. “Like I was saying, you’re a sucker.” I couldn’t help the way I smiled when she looked at me like that, like she knew me so well. I missed the warmth I felt in her presence, and the tethered feeling I had to her when she was this close hadn’t gone away, no matter the distance I put between us.

“How are your dreams?” I asked her, hoping that my time away had helped with that, at least.

Her cheeks flushed and she averted her gaze. That wasn’t a good sign. “Soph?”

She forced a smile. “They’re fine. Better, actually.”

“Yeah? So practicing with Phil has helped then?”

Her eyes widened a little, and I realized how tired she still looked. “Um, yeah.” She leaned against the counter. “My Ability is a lot easier to control now. I’m not a magician, so it’s still a little unknown to me, but I can turn things on and off a bit better than before. And, when I really try, I can share what I feel and see now too.”

“Well, I’m glad you have more control now,” I said, even if I wasn’t sure that would be the case with me if all my presence did was amp her up to near bursting. “And you and Phil,” I continued before I knew what I was doing, “you guys are—” I glanced at Thea at the kitchen table, and at the fridge with drawings and lists adhered to it, struggling to find the right words.

“Friends?” she hedged, and when I forced myself to look her, she seemed uncertain. “Phil’s great.” She studied me, fiddling with her fingers before she opened her mouth. I wasn’t sure I could stomach whatever she was about to say. “He and I—”

“So,” Beau called from the living room. “Are we going to play cards, or what?”

Sophie shifted in place, her eyes averting mine and she swallowed thickly. “I guess I should grab the cards.” Running her fingers through her hair, like she’d just escaped a close call, she turned and headed to the living room.

I let out a deep breath and made a mental note to thank Beau for sparing me the agony of listening to whatever admission she’d been about to make.

* * *

“Okay,” Sophie explained, “a group of us used to play this next game back home. It’s called Spoons, and it’s fun. It goes pretty fast though, and it might be a little hard for Beau and Thea to—”

“There are actual spoons?” Elle asked. Her eyebrows lifted with sudden intrigue.

“Yep, one for each of us—well, minus one. Think of it like musical chairs, but with spoons. We need to have one less so that whoever doesn’t grab a spoon, is out. We go until only one of us is left.”

The competitive spark in Elle’s green eyes flickered. “I’m in!”

I grabbed five spoons from the kitchen while Sophie dealt four cards to each of us.

“Can we look at them?” Beau glanced at me as I sat down beside him, then he looked at Thea across the table from him. She was already peeking.

“Yes, you can look,” Sophie clarified, “but don’t show your cards to anyone.”

“I’m stoked,” Elle said more bubbly than I’d expected.

Jackson shook his head. “I’m scared,” he rebutted.

Sophie’s cheeks lifted with a far-too-happy grin. “Don’t be scared. It’s fun. We’ll go around in a circle. I’ll start. And Alex, when the cards get to you, just discard them to the side.”

After Sophie went over the rules, the most important one being that you can only ever have four cards in your hand at a time, we began a practice round. The game started out slowly at first, all of us taking our time to maneuver our cards around in our hands as we drew and discarded one card at a time, searching for four of the same kind of card. As we became more comfortable, the circle was more of a frenzy, especially as each person got closer and closer to having four of the card they needed in order to grab the first spoon. No one wanted to be the loser.

Elle and Jackson stopped to help Beau and Thea as they struggled, and when I finally got my four sevens, I grabbed the spoon in front of me.

Beau noticed I stole the first spoon and snatched one, then Sophie, and Elle, and Thea; Jackson, being the last one to reach for one, was too late. Though, in all fairness he had half of Beau’s cards in his hand, trying to help him.

“Jackson lost that one, and would sit out if we were really playing,” Sophie explained. “But that was just a practice round,” she reassured him, and she slid the deck to me. “Here, you can deal this time, it takes some of the pressure off.”

“Sweet.” I could appreciate that. Once I dealt and we started, I tried to remind myself to set a slower pace for Beau and Thea, though I was convinced they were playing us like fiddles as we got closer to the end. Soon their little hands were moving so quickly, slapping discarded cards down, I felt like I had to rush to keep up and set a quicker pace for everyone else.

I had three of the four aces I needed when I noticed Jackson slowly slip a spoon as covertly as possible from the table into his lap. Everyone else was completely unaware in the chaos, and I reached for the spoon closest to me.

Sophie noticed my sudden movement and grabbed for the same spoon. In her desperation to steal it, her fingers wrapped around mine. Her hand was warm, and I immediately felt a burst and flood of warmth—then a rush of panic. I didn’t have time to register much else before an image of Phil lying in bed with her flashed into my mind. It felt like a fuzzy dream and yet acutely real at the same time, and I jerked my hand away.

I had my suspicions, but nothing so intimate or so gutting as actually seeing them together like that.

Sophie squeezed her eyes closed as her cheeks reddened. “Sorry. I didn’t think—” She shook her head.

“It’s fine,” I breathed, clearing my throat, but I glanced away, unable to look her in the eyes, uncertain how I ever could again without seeing the image of them. “That was so stupid,” she admonished herself. “I hadn’t thought about that when I chose this game.”

I could feel everyone’s eyes on us, curious and a little concerned, and before a slew of questions could surface, I scooted my chair away from the table. “Really, Sophie, it’s fine.” Too blindsided to say much else, I strode into the kitchen to put some distance between us.

Phil and Sophie. She was bed-rumpled and his lips were on hers. I braced my palms against the sink and stared out the window at the dying light. I felt the consequences of my decision to stay away more keenly than I ever thought possible, like I’d been gutted then torn to shreds as visions of Phil and Sophie consumed me.

“Alex?” Sophie’s voice was hesitant. My muscles tensed. “I can imagine what you saw, and it’s not what you think.”

I white-knuckled the edge of the sink and squeezed my eyes closed. “It’s okay,” I told her quietly. Even if I felt angry, it wasn’t at her. “You really don’t owe me any explanations.”

“But I want you to know—”

“Please,” I begged, finally turning around. Her eyes burned with mortification. “For both our sakes, let’s forget about it, okay?” It was wishful thinking, but I knew that there was nothing she could say to make me feel better, except that I’d imagined it. “Night, Sophie.” I walked past her and headed up to my bedroom, even if I knew sleep would be impossible.

25

Elle

Standing at the sliding glass door of our bedroom, staring out at the golden hues of twilight, I rubbed my bare arm out of habit, not because I was cold. I was the new and improved hot-blooded version of the human species, and I didn’t get cold anymore.

Most summer nights, the drapes would’ve already been drawn and we’d have been in bed, giving us more than a few hours of sleep. But I was too restless.

“Are you okay?” Jackson’s quiet voice rumbled from the bed, the lilt of sleep making his words more like whispers. Tearing my gaze from the serenity of dusk, I watched as his bare chest rose and fell as he lay there. His eyes were closed, and his Haida tattoos ran the length of his arm draped over his stomach. Yukon summers were warm, but when the sun dipped closer to the horizon, evenings grew chilly—unless you slept beside me. Pajama pants were all he needed, and that was on a cold night.

Jackson pried one eye open to look at me when I didn’t answer.

“I’m just thinking about the kids,” I told him. They’d all been through so much the past seventeen months, and the effects were starting to settle in, or maybe they’d always been there and I’d just been too preoccupied to take it too seriously.

“You mean Beau . . . or are you referring to Sophie and Alex?”

I scanned the tree line dotting the jagged horizon. “All of them.” Sophie and Alex weren’t kids, so much as they felt like my right and my left hands. They were a combination of the friends and siblings I’d never had, and only kids in the sense that it felt like my responsibility to help them. Always and forever, but they were struggling.

“They’ll all be fine, Elle. Sophie and Alex are nineteen and have a lot of uncharted territory between them. They’ll figure it out.”

I hoped Jackson was right, but every explosion had a fuse and it felt like we were simmering in wait. “And Beau? He thinks he’s broken. He doesn’t have bullies and soccer games to worry about, he’s got an Ability—a part of himself that he thinks is malformed.”

“Elle.”

I looked at Jackson again. His eyes were open, lids low and eyes hazy with exhaustion, but he was alert and I saw his concern. “I’m not sure how to help him,” I admitted. “And I worry what toll it’s taking. It’s different for us, you know? You and I have a lifetime of experience and life lessons to draw upon, compared to him. And Thea, she’s so young and has already seen so much death.”

“I know you want to solve everything, Elle, and you are helping them, but part of it is figuring it out with them as we go. This is new for all of us, and you can’t beat yourself up for not knowing how to navigate it. I’ve been telling you from the beginning, you can’t save everyone. You can’t protect them from everything. Part of it is about growing up too.”

I knew Jackson was right, but it didn’t make it easier. It was like watching an agonizingly slow train wreck that I feared would implode at some point, and I was afraid of the wreckage. I stared down at the clearing in the trees where Sophie and Phil liked to spar. “What are we going to do about Alex and Sophie?”

“They’re both stubborn,” he said easily. “But they’re intelligent and care about each other too much not to figure it out, eventually. I’m not as worried about them.”

“They’re definitely stubborn,” I muttered. We could all see how they felt about each other, and even if I didn’t know all the details, it was obvious Alex was trying to give Sophie her space. At first, I thought it was a good idea while they got their Abilities better controlled, and maybe some time apart would give them some perspective. But the more Alex was away, the more I feared he’d stray too far and not come back, and that would devastate us all.

“I can see it in his eyes,” I thought aloud. “Alex wants to be here with us, but he won’t stay. He’s like you used to be—haunted —I think.”

“And like me,” Jackson said quietly, “he’ll move through it. He just needs to figure out who he is at his own pace.”

It was easy to forget Sophie and Alex had practically been strangers before the outbreak. They’d been pivotal in each other’s lives during a time when survival was all we thought about. But relationships were hard enough, and things were different; there were options and different obstacles now. Life wasn’t so much live or die. “What if they don’t figure it out?”

“They will.”

I studied Jackson, envying his certainty. “You’re always so calm about these things.”

He shrugged as his eyes fell shut again. “You might’ve forgotten what it was to be a normal nineteen-year-old, but I haven’t. I guess I can relate.”

Jackson was sort of right about that. I’d blocked out everything I could about so much of my past life, it almost felt like a hazy dream.

“You can’t rush him, Elle. He needs to figure it out on his own.”

Taiga, a fleeting visage in the pale hue of the resting sun, trotted through the yard, past the pasture, and disappeared into the woods. It was a strange world we lived in, an alternate reality in which I didn’t have to worry about the ghosts of my past; I had a family, a partner, and a purpose. “I guess it just feels wrong to be happy about our lives now, while the others are so discontent.”

“Hey, Elle?”

“Hmm?”

Jackson pried one of his eyes open before it flitted shut again. “This side of the bed isn’t going to warm itself.”

I smiled, appraising the lines of his face, relaxed with the promise of sleep. His chest rose and fell slowly, deeply. And as I fleetingly wondered what my life would be like without him, my grin widened because I didn’t have to. He was here, with me. He was mine.

He peeked at me again. “Uh oh,” he whispered. “What’s that look for?”

I tiptoed over to the bed and slid in beside him.

“Should I be frightened?”

The warmth of his very existence calmed me. “I was just thinking about how cute you are when you’re exhausted.”

“Cute?” he grumbled, and his eyes peeled all the way open this time. “I’m not sure how I feel about being cute.”

Resting my arm over his chest, I stared at the side of his face. His goatee wasn’t unkempt, per se, but he definitely wasn’t a daily groomer. His hair was shorter than it had been months ago, but long enough to run his fingers through, and for it to wisp around his ears. “What would you prefer then?”

He was quiet for another moment, and only his deep breaths filled the bedroom until I thought he might’ve fallen asleep. “Manly,” he finally said. “Rugged. A God—”

I barked out a laugh. “Keep dreaming, buddy.”

Jackson shot up onto his elbow, the scent of earth and pine needles wafting off of him, and he stared down at me with a smile. “How dare you laugh.” His eyes shimmered in the dim light, his sleepy haze lost in shadows.

“I call it like I see it,” I told him with an indifferent shrug, though Jackson was anything but cute. Strong. Formidable. Kind. Loving. Sexy as hell.

“Well, apparently you don’t see very clearly,” he rumbled. His puckish tone was low and more guttural, and it made my insides flutter. “Perhaps I need to show you.” This virile, roguish side of him made the flames flare inside me, warming every inch as it spread through my body like a wildfire across a desert plain.

“Perhaps you do,” I purred. “But you said yourself, you’re exhausted and—”

Jackson’s mouth covered mine in an instant, and his hand moved to my hip, pulling me against his warm, solid body. He wasn’t sweet or gentle, and the fire burned hotter inside my veins as the weight of him pressed into me, and his grip tightened.

His breath was hot, his thigh strong as his leg wrapped around me, and every kiss was a claim as his lips seared a trail down my neck. Every cell of my body began to hum and tingle, sparking with barely containable heat, like bursts of lightning from Zeus himself.

As Jackson’s fingertips brushed over my chest and down my stomach, lower and lower, my eyes fluttered shut, and I gasped for breath. A God? Yes, perhaps I would give him that.

26

Sophie

“When I’m finished with you, you’ll wish you were dead.” The cretin’s breath was sour and hot against my cheek, and his long fingernails clawed into my breast through my shirt. He was strong; I could feel it coiling in him. He was barely able to contain himself. I wasn’t sure how they’d found us in Slana, but their intentions were clear as his sticky tongue licked a hot trail along the side of my face. I froze in fear, shivering against him.

“You shot Dom, you stupid little bitch,” he spat into my ear. I shrieked as his hand shot from my breast to my throat and he shoved me against the wall, his pistol stabbing me in the rib as he leaned in. “You’ll have to pay for that—”

“I’m sorry,” I whimpered. Beau and Thea’s cries in the other room were barely audible over the sound of the blood whirring in my ears, and the thumping of my erratically beating heart. Elle was outside in the snow, fighting the other man—she didn’t know one was in the house. I sobbed as I realized she’d never find us in time.

He pressed his nose into my neck and inhaled deeply. “Oh, I’m going to make you sorry.” I saw the violence and felt his anger as he imagined what came next.

Thea screamed, and fear made my vision blur and I couldn’t breathe. “You’re the weak one, aren’t you?” he said. “I can practically smell it on you—your fear. We could smell it the moment we got here.” He inhaled again. His grip tightened, bruising to the point I thought he might crush my windpipe, as I began to gasp for breath.

“I can feel your mind, Sophie. I can see what you fear the most. You’ll never be in control. You will always be weak. And he’ll never want you.”

My eyes shot to him, and then I woke up.

When my eyelids flitted open, I felt sick to my stomach and sat up in bed. My room was dark and the house was quiet. I was perfectly fine, and what happened in Slana was a lifetime behind me. I’d locked that night away in a vault of things I refused to think about, along with old fears and insecurities I’d grown from. I was stronger now. I could protect myself if I needed to, I’d made sure of it—Phil helped me make sure of it.

It was only a vivid dream.

But if it was, why had it felt too incredibly close to the memory of it? It was like a vault had been unlocked in my mind, and I felt strangely vulnerable again. I could still smell his breath on my face, and I could feel his claw-like fingers digging into my throat.

I ran my hand through my hair and lay back down against my pillow. None of it mattered because it was in the past. The fucker was dead. Forever. Elle burned him to ash, and he couldn’t touch me ever again. He couldn’t hurt me, and that’s not exactly how it happened anyway.

When Thea had screamed, I’d sunk my teeth into his neck and latched on. When he’d cried out in pain, I fell to the ground to grab the shotgun.

I’d shot him. Forever.

No matter how many times I told myself that, though, I couldn’t shake the encroaching feeling of fear.

Flinging my covers off me, I climbed out of bed. It was barely six o‘clock, but I wasn’t going to go back to sleep. It was time to start the day, and if I was going to beat this part of me rearing its ugly head again, I was going to need coffee to get through the day, a lot of it.

Today wouldn’t only be a rematch with Phil, it would be a testament to myself.

27

Sophie

My chest heaved and my muscles strained with fatigue as I lifted one arm to block Phil’s advancement, immediately stepping back and blocking his other arm as it swung up to grab a hold of me. I forced myself to shake off the exhaustion lingering in my weary muscles and fuzzy head. This was what was important right now.

Be loud. Keep moving. Don’t be a victim. That’s what I thought about when Phil touched me, instead of any memories I would feel or see. The rational part of my brain told me I was being overzealous, but another part of me, a taunting part of my mind, told me I could be better. I could be stronger, and Phil was the one willing to help me get there.

Be loud. Keep moving. Don’t be a victim. Each kick accompanied a battle cry. Each time I blocked one of his movements, I did so with a growl.

“Wow, Sophie,” Phil hissed with a laugh. “I thought we were focusing on technique and saving the big match for after?”

I’d been practicing with Phil because he was pragmatic and he learned quickly. He was naturally built to do what Ross, Woody, and Jackson had taught us, but he was even better than they were now. Like me, he refused to be weak and helpless, and his daily routines had become more of a ritual. This was what I needed, to embody a sense of capability, like he did.

I thrust my right hand toward him in answer, but he was unfazed. Phil blocked my palm heel and elbow strikes, and his eyes glistened with merriment. Meanwhile, I glistened with hours’ worth of sweat. It beaded on my brow and the back of my neck as my hair whipped around with every pivot and push.

Palm open, I hooked my arm back and went for Phil’s ear, almost clubbing him, before he caught me by the wrist and shook his head with a smirk. “Oh, so violent.”

“You told me not to hold back,” I reminded him with pride. As I tried to pull away his grip on my arms tightened, goading me.

I yanked my arm away and, heart thrumming, I stared into Phil’s eyes, lifted my leg and turned. Halfway through a roundhouse kick, his arm went up to block it. His body was more like a brick wall from all of his training over the past year, and I felt a sharp pain ricochet through my foot, up my shin, and into my hip before I could quell the grimace painting my face.

“Shit—Sophie, are you okay?” Phil grabbed a hold of my forearm to catch me as I stumbled back.

“Mother f—” I bit my tongue. I knew better than to kick him like that, and I would regret it for the next few days. I straightened and inhaled through my nose, long and deep to satisfy my lungs and the pain coursing up my leg—my weakest leg.

I forced myself to ignore the pain, even as the threat of tears burned the backs of my eyes. “Come on,” I urged, clenching my hands to fists. I took an offensive stance. The new Sophie didn’t cry, I wouldn’t let her, and I needed to push through it.

“Seriously, Sophie. We should take a break. You should—”

“No.” A break was the last thing I needed. I was wound tight and wanted to feel the burn; I yearned for it, even if remotely I knew it was stupid to let that dream get to me so much. “If I stop every time something aches, I’ll never get better at this, and what good will that do me?”

“It doesn’t do you any good if you seriously injure yourself practicing, either,” Alex said curtly, walking up behind me with Jackson and Ross. They all eyed me carefully, though Alex looked more angry than concerned, and it bothered me that he thought he had any right or reason to be. Or maybe that was the pain talking. Either way, the bastard was calling me out in front of everyone, and I didn’t like it.

Glowering, and face burning red with exertion and a bit of embarrassment, I tilted my head. “I said, I’m fine.” My gaze returned to Phil with a nod. “Come on.”

His uncertain brown eyes shifted between Alex and me, and for the first time I thought Phil might actually side with Alex.

“Phil,” I quipped, almost petulant. “Don’t wimp out on me now.”

His uncertainty hardened into place, and I realized that insulting him wasn’t going to help me out any.

“Sorry, look—let’s work on hand-to-hand, if you’re worried about my leg. Okay? We’ll save the rematch for our session next week, if you want.”

Although Phil didn’t seem entirely sold on the idea, he didn’t argue with me or tell me what was best for me. That was one of the things I liked about him. “Okay—”

“You’re so stubborn,” Alex grumbled, and he crossed his arms over his chest. It wasn’t amusement as much as judgement that edged his tone.

Hands tightening to fists, I spun around and glared at him. “Like you’re not?”

“I’m just saying, you should be careful—”

“Well, you don’t really get a say, Alex,” I spat, throwing my hands up. I’d had someone telling me how weak and fragile I was all my life; I didn’t need the reminder. “Stop worrying about me for once and worry about yourself.”

The longer I stood motionless, the harder my ankle throbbed, and I knew I needed to get off of it, even if I didn’t want Alex to be right. I glanced at Phil. “Thanks for the practice,” I muttered.

Unable to even look at Alex anymore, I left the four of them standing around the grappling pad and headed into the house. Part of me was aware of my irrational anger toward Alex, but another part of me didn’t care. He didn’t get to show up whenever it was convenient for him, turn everything that was beginning to feel normal upside down, and think he had a say in any of it.

* * *

I stood under the showerhead long enough that the water began to cool, and I stared down at my feet. I hated that Alex was right; being injured would make me weaker, not stronger. But even so, there was something alluring about battle wounds. It might’ve been stupid, but they made me feel like I was living, that I was getting stronger, and I had the physical proof of it; I wasn’t so fragile that I couldn’t get back up and keep going.

Shutting the shower off, I wrung the water from my hair and let it fall heavily down my back as I reached for the towel draped over the glass wall. Of course, the bathroom was modern, like the rest of the house, like something out of a Martha Stewart magazine, only I didn’t have trays of lotions and beauty products lining the counter. I had a hairbrush and toothbrush, bandages strewn out across the quartz top, sunblock, and citronella oil—everything I used on a summer day.

Patting my body dry, I admired the bruise blooming on the inside of my arm, and the cut healing on my knuckle. All in a day’s work, I thought contently. Every stretch of my muscles and bend of my knees ached just a little, and it made me feel . . . better.

Realizing I’d forgotten my lotion, I spun my wet hair in a towel, wrapped another around my body, and retreated down the hall to my bedroom. I passed Alex’s door before reaching mine. If there was one thing I’d happily gotten used to when he was MIA, it was having a bathroom to myself again.

As I walked toward my dresser to grab my lotion, I froze. There was a book on the foot of my bed that hadn’t been there before, and I stepped closer, eyeing the leather binding. A bear was embossed on the front; the Haida symbol for family, strength, and strong will. It was an important symbol among the First Nations community, or at least, it used to be. There were so few survivors now, I wasn’t sure there was much of a community left.

Alex. It had to be from him. He always tried to bring the kids something when he came back from Whitehorse, but rarely did he bring me anything. I didn’t mind it, nor did I expect it, which made the gift all the more special.

Unraveling the leather tether holding it closed, I opened the first page and smiled.

Thought of you. -A

I shook my head, my smile growing into a grin, and I felt the coldness in my heart melt away. And I just chewed him out for being a stubborn asshole. He could be stubborn and aggravating, but Alex wasn’t an asshole.

I closed the journal and traced my fingertip over the bear’s neck and down to its massive claws. Perhaps I was reading too much into it, but I had a feeling this wasn’t just a journal he’d randomly grabbed knowing I always needed more notebooks. Deep down, I knew Alex had picked this specific journal for me.

I glanced at my desk and bookshelf, lined with my other notebooks, filled with all of my observations and everything I’d learned since the outbreak.

In my red journal, I tracked the changing rate of our Abilities. In my black journal, I wrote down Jackson’s survival tips. And my white ones were filled with my notes and musings when I worked with Stanley. Every journal had a purpose, and yet none of them were as special to me as this one.

Appreciating the leather craftsmanship a final time, I set it on my bed, grabbed my lotion, and headed back into the bathroom. Though my head told me to take it as a thoughtful gift and nothing more, my heart wanted it to be something more, and I knew I was teetering dangerously close to hope.

I tried not to wonder too desperately what that would mean as I pushed the cracked bathroom door open, only for it to bounce back, hitting me in the shoulder.

A deep “Jesus—” emanated from inside.

Clasping my hand over my mouth, I peeked in. “What—Alex—” He stood in front of the sink, shirtless with his jeans slung low at his hips as water dripped off his face. He stared back at me through the steamy mirror I’d left in my wake.

“I’m . . . so sorry,” I breathed. My gaze darted from his eyes and lowered brow, to his broad bare chest. As I felt the red bloom across my neck and face, I backed out of the bathroom and pulled the door shut behind me.

The way my traitorous heart fluttered at the sight of him told me that no matter how good I thought I’d been doing; it wasn’t good enough. My mind could conjure a thousand dreams about Phil, but Alex would always be my greatest weakness. I was screwed and I hated it.

28

Alex

Even with clean, crisp sheets and my blackout curtains drawn, I’d lain in bed for nearly an hour, staring up at the ceiling. I told myself I was restless because of the lack of white noise from the turbine engines, not because Sophie was sleeping in the other room. Not because I’d seen her in nothing but a towel, or because I knew she was mad at me for what I’d said earlier. And I definitely wasn’t restless because she might actually be peacefully asleep, dreaming about wonder boy, Phil.

Flinging off my blanket, I got out of bed. Lying there was getting me nowhere, and there were more productive things I could be doing, like staring at the ceiling in the living room instead, or doing a shit job folding the laundry for Jackson while my mind wandered.

I pulled a t-shirt on with my basketball shorts, and opened my bedroom door to head downstairs. Sophie’s door was open down the hall, and her room was dark inside. When I noticed Beau and Thea’s bedroom doors were also open on the other side of the landing, the pieces began to fall into place.

I made my way downstairs, able to see in the golden hue of the midnight sunset. I didn’t hear voices or see anyone in the den though. The house was still and quiet. I glanced out to the sliding glass door and saw the top of Sophie’s head against the lounge chair. Her hair was golden in the dying light, almost glowing. I stopped at the window and crossed my arms over my chest.

Was this the average night for them now? Beau had passed out on the adjacent lounger, his hand nestled in Luna’s onyx fur where she was curled up on the deck between him and Sophie. It looked like kinked-neck city from where I was standing. As quietly as I could, I opened the sliding door and poked my head out.

“Soph,” I whispered.

“Yeah,” she said, craning her neck to look over the lounger at me. I could see her sock-covered feet sticking out from the blanket stretched out in front of her, like she’d been lying there for a while.

“Is everything okay? Do you want me to take Beau inside?”

“He’s fine for now. I can wake him when I go in.”

That was probably her nice way of telling me to take a hike and leave her alone. I was the last person she wanted to see, but I stepped out onto the deck anyway, earning two perked up wolf ears, and I slid the door quietly closed behind me.

“I’d ask if you’re stargazing,” I whispered, “but that’s not likely.” As I came around the lounger, I noticed Thea nestled against Sophie’s chest, taking up most of the chair. Sophie was hanging half off the seat, though she didn’t seem to mind.

I didn’t see Thea’s nightly shadow. “No Rocky?”

“He’s out hunting, I guess.”

I sat down on the end of Beau’s lounge chair and stared out at the sunset. The sky was cloudless and cast in deepening yellows.

“They wanted to watch the sunset,” Sophie explained.

When I looked at her, she was staring out at the sky, her eyelids heavy. She looked peaceful. “It’s something we do sometimes, though we’ve only made it to midnight once.”

Her eyes shimmered like crystals, and I thought of her standing in the elevator back in Whitely, the halogen lights making her eyes almost otherworldly. No matter how much she tried to change, she was still Sophie, and she had no idea how beautiful she was—or how strong, even without Phil—and I had the sudden urge to tell her. “Soph—”

“What time is it?” Her brow lifted with amusement, like she had a secret. “Did we at least make it past ten?”

“Um.” I cleared my throat. “It’s like eleven, or something.”

Her lips pursed, and she glanced at Beau. “So much for that; they dozed off probably an hour ago.”

“I wish I could sleep like that,” I mused. “Out like a light.” I looked at Beau again, his head lulled forward and his chin rested on his chest. I shook my head. “Never mind. I’d be hating life tomorrow.”

“Seriously, they can sleep through anything.” Sophie’s gaze shifted between Beau and Thea, and then she looked at me. “Thank you for the journal, by the way. It’s beautiful.”

“Oh.” I swallowed thickly. I was wondering if she’d liked it. The moment I saw it in a fancy, dusty paper store in Whitehorse, I wanted her to have it. “You’re welcome. I know where there are some cool ones now.” I rested my elbows on my knees and stared down at my hands. I could barely write legibly, let alone fill an entire journal. Meanwhile, she had dozens. “Let me know when you’re ready for another one.” I couldn’t give Sophie much, but I wanted her to have anything and everything.

“I will. Thanks. I love the etching on the front. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Hearing her say that made my chest lighter. “Good.”

“I actually want to get a Haida tattoo, like Jackson.”

My eyes rounded with surprise, and I stared at her.

“Is that crazy?”

I shook my head. “That’s awesome, actually. You should.”

With a deep sigh, she seemed to contemplate it a bit more and shrugged. “Well, maybe I can find a temporary stick-on in a bubble gum machine or something,” she said dismissively. “It’s not like there are a lot of parlor options these days.”

“I guess not, but if you ever could, what would you get?” I turned on the end of the lounger to face her. “I vote for the bear.”

“Yeah?” A smile parted her lips, and I loved the way her eyes crinkled in the corners, especially because she was smiling at me this time.

“Yeah. It’s a good fit. It’s perfect, actually.”

“Phil says I’m like a mama bear when it comes to the kids, but I think that’s more of an Elle trait.”

The lightness in my chest dissipated a little. “You should get the bear because of what it means,” I told her. “Because you’re strong.”

“Strong-ish,” she corrected. “But I’ll get there, eventually.” Her mouth quirked with an almost smile, but it was humorless. “I want the doubt to go away. I want the dreams to stop. I want to be more in control of how I feel, about everything, because sometimes it’s like I’m dangerously close to crazy.” She was joking, or at least she tried to make it sound like she was, but I could hear the exhaustion in her voice.

“I thought you were doing better, with your Ability and dreams, I mean.”

Sophie played with the ends of Thea’s hair, thoughtful for a moment. “I can control my Ability more, physically anyway. It’s the stuff under the surface that flares up sometimes. It’s what I can’t control when I sleep that scares me.”

I had a hard time controlling my brain when I was awake, so I could only imagine what Sophie’s mind was like when she slept. “I’m sorry it’s still hard,” I told her. “I wish there was something I could do to help you.”

Sophie bit the side of her lip and brushed the fringe of Thea’s hair against her palm absently. “As much as I hate my Ability sometimes, I’ve gotten used to it being hard. If that makes any sense.”

“Yeah,” I said with a huff. “It makes complete sense, actually.” I thought about Jackson’s tattoos, and how they were almost like a badge of honor. “Hey, maybe Jade or Took can give you your tattoo.” I pointed to my chin, thinking of Jade’s vertical lines. Took had a rendition of his own on his arms. Their people had been tattooing themselves for generations. “You should ask the next time we see them.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Whenever that is.” Absently, she brushed Thea’s hair from her face. Thea’s cheek twitched but she didn’t stir. “I miss Jade’s singing, and Took’s grumpiness,” Sophie mused.

I recalled his morning mutterings and Jade cooking over the stove while she mumbled Inuit words. “Yeah, me too.” It was quiet for a few moments, and not just between Sophie and me. The woods were quiet, like the whole world was asleep except for the two of us. I tried to remember the last time Sophie and I were alone together like this, but I couldn’t.

“They’d be proud of all we did here,” Sophie finally said.

I scanned the property, taking it all in. It was larger than theirs, more sprawling, yet somehow their place felt a little bit more like home to me. Or maybe I just missed how things felt simpler when we were there. “Do you wish we’d stayed at the lake with them?” I asked, stealing a quick glance at her. It sounded like a dumb question out loud, but everything changed when we left. Life felt harder, even if the way we lived it now finally seemed normal.

“Sometimes, but I love this place too. There’s a lot to do, and we have Bert and Ross. And we’d never have met Woody and Stanley—”

“And Phil.” I could feel her eyes on me, and I hesitated before I looked over.

Her expression gave nothing away. Not annoyance at my snide comment, or even contentment because it was true. “And Phil,” she finally whispered.

It was uncomfortably silent between us, and I knew I was verging on wearing out my welcome. I glanced at Beau. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take him inside? I’m going to head to bed.”

“No, it’s fine,” she said, pulling her legs up to her chest. She winced. “I’ll wake him when I go in.”

With a nod, I headed to the door, stopping as I reached for the handle to allow myself a final look in her direction. Sophie massaged her hurt ankle over the blanket. Even if I was serious when I told her she shouldn’t push herself so hard, my frustration had been primarily that she relied so much on Phil to make her happy, and I couldn’t fault her for that, only myself.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “About what happened when you were sparring. I didn’t have to be a dick about it.”

She craned her neck to peer over at me with a look that comforted me a little—gratitude or understanding, maybe. “Thanks, Alex.”

“You’re stronger than you think, Sophie. I hope one day you see that.”

29

Sophie

The sound of flowing water and swallows singing up in the treetops filled the late morning air. That, and the sound of my muttered curses, the sound of hammers, and of Little Foot splashing around in the shallows.

While Thea, Alex, and Elle finished securing the goat pen up by the house, Jackson, Ross, Beau, and I worked on the fish wheel at the riverbank. Little Foot did more playing and less helping. Beau pulled the chicken wire flat for me to hammer onto the second of four paddle arm baskets. With Beau’s lack of arm strength and my inability to hit a nail directly on the head, it was slow going. “Why don’t we just spend a day catching a bunch of fish since there are so many?”

“Because, we have a lot of mouths to feed. Do you want to spend all day every day fishing until salmon season ends? Because I don’t,”

“No.”

“And so,” I added with gusto, and nailed the final corner down onto the birch frame, “we make the fish wheel to do the work for us. So we can keep preparing for winter.” Satisfied and victorious, I stood up and peered down at it. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it was functional and would do the job.

Little Foot trotted over, sniffing it. It was large enough that he could’ve curled up inside, if he’d wanted to.

“Not too shabby,” Ross mused, dropping another tamarack basket frame beside me. “Ready for round two?” I eyed my black thumbnail, remnants of the last time Jackson put me in charge of any sort of hammering. I hadn’t hit any other extremities yet, so that was something.

“Bring it.” I flexed my pathetic bicep then bent down to grab my water bottle. The guys were workhorses—sweaty and always moving. I was always moving, but mostly trying to keep to the more shaded areas. I lifted my baseball cap and wiped my brow, then glanced at Beau, steeling myself for our next mission. “Let’s do this.”

Although Beau didn’t groan, I could tell he wasn’t necessarily happy about helping me. He might’ve liked to shrug off his chores, but he generally liked working on projects with Jackson and me.

He huffed and crouched down beside me as we settled around the next basket. His eyes drifted to Ross, curious or maybe just lost in thought, as he watched him take the completed basket away to add to the done pile.

“Aren’t you guys afraid the fish wheel will wash away?” Beau eyed the giant, wooden Ferris wheel, bobbing up and down in the water at the river’s edge.

“Not if I can help it,” Jackson said. “We’ll pull it up on shore before the water gets too high and use it again next year.” He had a whole plan for it, including us taking shifts to empty the nets three times a day while it was rotating to make sure the nets were never overflowing and we wouldn’t lose any salmon.

“I have a feeling, though,” Jackson continued, “Our success is going to depend on you more than anything.” Jackson looked at Beau.

With a growing smile, Ross crossed two long boards over one another and hammered them together to create a giant X to support the center of the wheel.

Beau frowned. “Why me?”

“To keep the wolves from snacking in between net checks,” Ross explained. The three of us looked from Beau to Little Foot as he splashed in the river’s shallows, trying to catch the migrating fish.

“The baskets are going to scoop the salmon up and slide them into the submerged nets to keep them alive for us,” Jackson said, and he pointed to Little Foot. “Which means they’ll be easy for the wolves to get to, and nice and fresh.”

“Hand me that . . .” I jutted my chin for Beau to grab me a sheet of cut wire to hammer onto one side of the basket. He struggled with the size of it, but handed it to me, and as I reached for it, the sharp end poked into my palm. “Shi—” I stifled a curse and stared at the crimson prick of blood drawing to the surface.

“Shouldn’t you be wearing gloves?” Beau muttered.

“Yes,” Ross and Jackson answered in unison, but only Ross glanced up from their crouched position on the platform.

I rolled my eyes and looked at Beau. “Tattletale.” I stuck my tongue out at him and shrugged. “They make my hands sweat.”

He grinned slightly, and it made me feel a little better. But he was still distracted.

“What’s going on, bud? I mean really. Are you still worried about your telepathy?”

He rested his chin on his bent knee as he turned the hammer over in his hand. “I think it’s broken.”

“Your Ability or the hammer?” I joked, but Beau only glared at me, clearly unamused. “Why, just because you’re different than other animal telepaths?”

“No,” he said more urgently. “Because I can’t feel all of them anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t feel all of the wolves. It’s weird.” That was definitely a new development.

Beau sat back in the sunshine, and rested on his palms as he glanced thoughtfully around. His faded orange t-shirt was almost too small for him, and it dawned on me how fast he was growing up. He wasn’t the scared little boy Alex found anymore. He was sarcastic and broody, but he was smart and contemplative, when I doubted most kids his age were.

I nudged him with the tip of my boot so he’d look at me. “Which ones can’t you sense?”

“Rocky.”

I glanced around, realizing I hadn’t seen him all morning. “Maybe he’s too far away, hunting. Or, maybe he’s in the shade somewhere, sleeping.”

“Maybe,” he said, but Beau didn’t seem very convinced. The truth was, I didn’t know how his Ability worked any more than he did. I knew he saw images the way the wolves did, and he felt things, but beyond that, he was pretty private about it. Whatever was going on though, I didn’t want him to continue to think he was broken. Because if he was, we all were; we all did inexplicable things that didn’t make sense to us. And if he was broken, I was the Queen of Broken.

“How about when we finish, we go for a walk and try to find him? Maybe the closer we get the easier it will be to find your connection with him again. We can at least test it out, like an experiment.”

“Okay,” he said glumly. Like Elle, I was beginning to wonder if Beau was going to grow out of his sulking phase anytime soon. As much as I got that he was struggling, it was starting to depress me a little bit. I depended on Beau and Thea to cheer me up; they were supposed to be the lighthearted ones.

Little Foot splashed with a whine this time as he dunked his snout into the water, only to come up empty again.

“So much for being a great, majestic hunter,” I mused, watching his puppy-like tail wagging happily but impatiently as he zeroed in on another fish.

“Looks like we need to make a trip to Whitehorse sooner rather than later,” Jackson muttered, lifting one of the nets. “We need a new one.” With a sigh, he rubbed his forehead and dropped the old net onto the ground. “Something gnawed a big hole in it.”

Beau looked from the net to Jackson, shamefaced, like he’d done something wrong.

“Don’t, Beau,” Jackson said, his voice commanding as he shook his head, anticipating Beau’s reaction. He walked toward us. “There’s nothing you could’ve done. It’s what mice and rats and squirrely critters do. It happens.” He ruffled Beau’s hair. “I don’t think any amount of animal whispering can change that.”

But Beau looked far from reassured, and it was obvious that until we could give him a good reason he couldn’t communicate with more than the wolves, he would never be satisfied, especially now that he seemed to be questioning his ability to do even that.

“It’s nothing a trip to Whitehorse won’t fix,” Ross added confidently, and he bent down to grab the water thermos from the shade. Taking a long gulp, he wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his arm, then licked his lips.

I was about to suggest a subject change and a snack break, when Little Foot whimpered and took off into the trees, either chasing after something, or toward it.

Beau’s eyes widened, and his eyebrows pinched together. “Rocky!” he shouted, almost fearfully, and he took off into the woods after Little Foot.

“Beau!” I scrambled to my feet and darted after him. I stopped as he fell to his knees in front of the chocolate-colored wolf. Rocky lay at the base of a pine tree, whimpering in pain. Blood darkened his coat, and I knew without seeing what Beau saw that his Ability wasn’t fluctuating, it wasn’t working with Rocky, because Rocky was dying.

“Something attacked him,” Beau cried. “A bear—it was a bear.”

I dropped down beside Beau, and stared at the lacerations on the wolf’s side. “A bear?” The gashes were large enough. The wounds were deep and angry, and it was definitely possible, though it didn’t make a lot of sense. The wounds looked a day or two old.

Jackson and Ross ran through the woods toward us.

“Something attacked him,” I told them, and wrapped my arms around Beau. The last thing I wanted was for him to feel alone, but he pushed me away.

Beau cried out and put his hand on Rocky side. “He’s hurting,” he rasped, wiping his nose through a sob. “I can barely see anything anymore. I can barely feel him.”

I looked back at Jackson, uncertain what I should do, but Jackson stood there with sadness etched on his face.

Tears filling my eyes, I rubbed Beau’s back as he and Little Foot cried beside their brother. Little Foot nudged Rocky with his muzzle, as Beau stroked the dying wolf’s head to comfort him.

“He’s dying,” Beau sobbed again, and he rested his forehead against Rocky’s.

Little Foot whimpered, glancing around at us and then at his brother, then started pacing back and forth, helpless like the rest of us.

Pine needles crunched beside me, and Ross walked up to Beau and knelt beside him. Fleetingly, I wondered if Ross was going to snap Rocky’s neck and put the wolf out his misery, but as he reached for Rocky’s side, I was less certain. Ross paused a few inches from Rocky’s shaking body, and looked at Beau. “Say goodbye to him,” Ross whispered. His voice was all but steady as he prepared himself for what would come next.

Slowly, I stood and took a step back, filled with awe and horror.

Beau looked at him, confused.

“What’s he doing?” I gasped and looked at Jackson. But he said nothing as we watched Beau and Ross exchange a silent conversation.

Ross’s eyes were dark with dread, but Beau seemed to somehow understand. His chin quivered and tears fell from his lashes as he sucked in a body-wracking breath. When he could finally bring himself to move, Beau leaned against Rocky and wrapped his arms around him in a final embrace.

He sniffled as the wolf whimpered, then Beau shut his eyes—a tremulous heap beside him.

Little Foot lay beside them and lowered his head onto his paws, saying his own sort of farewell, and when I felt Jackson’s hand on my shoulder, the tears came streaming down my face. Together we watched as Beau and Little Foot said goodbye to their brother.

When he couldn’t wait any longer, or didn’t want to, Ross dragged in a deep breath and brushed his thumb between the wolf’s eyes, slowly, softly. With another deep, steadying breath and a clenched jaw, Ross closed his eyes. He grimaced as he continued to stroke Rocky’s brow, and Beau continued to cry into his friend’s tear-dampened fur.

When I saw the tears fall from between Ross’s lashes, I lost whatever composure I had left and leaned into Jackson. I wasn’t sure how many minutes passed with all of us standing there, surrounded by Beau’s echoing, gut-wrenching cries, but eventually, Ross stood up on shaking legs and braced himself on the tree.

“Ross—” I hurried over to him, grabbing onto his arm to help him. Before he pushed me away, I felt Beau’s swallowing grief, Rocky’s excruciating, physical pain, and Ross’s utter desperation to make amends for the day Kelsey died in his arms—the day he failed to do the one thing that would’ve brought her relief; the day he let her struggle in her last moments because he was too scared and selfish to take her pain away as she crossed into darkness.

Ross didn’t only know what it felt like to die, he could consume it and offer the dying a final sense of peace.

Ross nodded to Beau, and Jackson stalked over to him, pulling Beau up into his big arms. But all I could do was watch Ross as he walked on shaky legs into the woods. No one would ever really know what Ross had done for Beau in that moment. No one, but me.

30

Elle

I held Beau’s hand as the six of us stood around Rocky’s grave. Luna sat at Beau’s side as he stroked her onyx fur, and Taiga paced around the outskirts with Little Foot and the others. Their pack of eight was now seven; the pups were barely two years old and they’d already lost a brother. Beau, I feared, hadn’t only lost a wolf, but a friend.

I squeezed his hand more tightly, watching the way Alex’s eyes shifted to him, his brow furrowed with concern.

Sophie held onto Thea as she stared sadly down at the freshly laid earth, and Jackson wrapped his arm around Sophie’s shoulder, her eyes still red with tears.

Ross hadn’t reappeared yet, but after what little Sophie told us, I knew it could be a while before he returned. I wanted to thank him, but I didn’t know if it was my place to know what I did. Ross was the most private of all of us, and while I hated to take that from him, what he’d done for Beau left my heart heavy with love and gratitude. And sadness.

“I should have known something was wrong.” Beau’s voice cracked a little. “He was gone so long—”

“Hey,” I said, crouching down to him. “There was nothing you could’ve done. He came home to say goodbye. That’s what he wanted. And you gave him that.”

Beau’s chin quivered and he wiped his eyes in earnest. “I wish Jade was here. She’d know what to say.” He blinked at me, and I offered him a wavering, watery smile. “Yes, she would.”

“I have something I’d like to say.” Jackson’s voice was low but soft, and he looked at Beau as if he was asking permission.

Beau simply stared at him, waiting.

With a tilt of his head, Jackson peered down at Luna, then to Rocky’s grave, searching for the words. “I always think of the wolves as yours, Beau. But as I’m standing here, thinking about Rocky, I realize he was more than your wolf. He was part of this family; all of the wolves are.”

He held Beau’s gaze a moment before he continued. “Rocky was the first wolf that ever allowed me to pet him. Do you remember that? I thought for sure they were going to tear me to shreds that morning, now look at all of us living together. And Rocky was the one who liked my beard.” Jackson said it almost proudly, and smiled. “Every time I tuck Thea into bed, I will think about his spot on the floor, and that old pile of burlap bags he liked to sleep on in the barn.”

Thea whimpered and wiped at her nose, her bottom lip protruding as she held back another sob. Jackson stepped toward Rocky’s grave, and paused. “You know, in my mother’s culture, the wolf is the most sacred land animal, and only chooses to help people who are the most worthy. You have had eight wolves who have chosen you, Beau, and that means a great deal.” He pulled a palm-sized river stone from his pocket, smooth and gray, and walked it over to Beau. “Something to remember him by.”

Beau’s eyes shimmered, muddied pools of sorrow, but he didn’t cry. Instead, with his lips pursed and his expression determined, Beau did as Jade had showed us at Jet’s funeral, and he took a step toward Rocky’s grave and set the river stone in the center.

“He’ll come back,” Beau whispered, “when the lights dance in the sky.” His voice was barely a whisper on the breeze, but the sentiment made me smile.

Jackson nodded as he took his place beside me again. “We won’t forget him, Beau,” he said. “I promise you that.”

Sophie, Alex, and Thea dispersed, and Beau and Luna stayed at the grave a little while longer as Jackson and I stood by, patiently waiting.

Luna’s ears perked up and she glanced behind us at the sound of crunching footsteps in the trees.

Ross weaved his way between tree trunks and out into the open, focused straight ahead as he made his way toward the cabins behind Alex and Sophie.

“You’ll make sure he’s all right?” I looked at Jackson, seeing the same concern in his eyes that I felt. “I know he probably wants to be alone, but . . .”

“I’ll talk to him,” Jackson said, sparing me from having to say I didn’t really care what Ross wanted, that we were worried about him. It was the first we’d learned about that part of Ross’s Ability, the first we’d heard of anything like it, and the price it exacted would be great.

“I need to head into Whitehorse tomorrow anyway, to get some supplies for the fish wheel. I’ll see if Ross will go, so we can talk.” Jackson looked at me and pulled me against him, almost protectively. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion and concern. “Maybe you should come with us—maybe all of us should go to get away from the house for a while, for a change of pace.”

“I promised Beau we’d go for a walk tomorrow, to get some Ability practice in to keep his mind off of things, and I figured we could harvest some fireweed while we were at it.”

Jackson nodded, a little hesitant.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I’ve been feeling uneasy lately.”

“You have?”

He nodded. “And it might’ve been this, but I’m not sure. I still feel . . . off.”

Jackson wasn’t one to say something unless he was truly worried, but even I could hear the uncertainty in his voice, and see it in the lines etched in his brow.

“Perhaps it was what happened to Rocky and the bear? And now Ross.”

Jackson looked at me a moment, then dipped his chin. “That’s what I’m worried about.” He leaned in and brushed a light kiss to my mouth. “Be careful tomorrow, okay?”

I squeezed Jackson’s hand, feeling his grip tighten around my fingers, like he needed the extra reassurance. “Always,” I promised.

As Jackson turned for the house, I stood with Beau and Luna a bit longer, wondering how Rocky had gotten mixed up with a bear in the first place. It was another reminder that humans weren’t the only threats we had to look out for—the Yukon was a dangerous place.

31

Elle

The next afternoon, while Alex, Ross, and Jackson were in town, Beau, Thea, and I went for a picnic in the woods on the other side of the river. Thea collected fireweed, so we could dry it and use it for inflammation and fevers when we needed it, while Beau tried to flex his mind muscles and connect with other animals.

“I think he can understand me,” Beau whispered, his lips pressed into a thin, concentrated line. “I feel . . . something.” I wasn’t sure if it was because of Jackson’s words, or if Beau was ignoring his grief altogether, but he wasn’t as glum as I thought he’d still be, and I was grateful for it.

He offered his hand to a curious chipmunk, but it didn’t scurry away as I’d expected, and I didn’t dare move from my spot on the picnic blanket until Beau gave me the go-ahead.

A smile filled his face, which was a rarity, and I basked in his momentary happiness as the critter skittered hesitantly closer.

The birds sang in the trees, ignoring us, much as they had been for the last hour. A little collared pika had stopped to say hello before scurrying away to hide somewhere in the overgrown brush. But the chipmunk seemed more curious—or more hungry.

“My basket’s full!” Thea sang as she climbed over a fallen spruce a dozen yards away. The chipmunk scurried into the sage and grasses that layered the ground, abandoning Beau.

“God, Thea!” Beau shouted. “You scared it away.” He glared at her.

“Well,” she huffed, and her lips slid into a frown, “I didn’t know.” She dropped her basket of freshly picked fireweed with a whine. If there was one thing Thea hated, it was disappointing her older brother, even if she’d never admit it.

“You’re always so loud,” he bit out as he climbed to his feet. “You ruin everything.”

“Hey now, that’s not fair. Thea didn’t do it on purpose,” I told him.

“Whatever,” he said, picking a stick off the ground. He headed toward the fallen spruce trunks at the edge of the meadow.

“Don’t wander too far, please,” I called.

Thea plopped down on the blanket beside me and rested her chin on her fist with a deep sigh. “He’s always so grumpy.”

“I know. He’s not having a very good day.”

“Or year,” she said so quietly it barely reached my ears.

I elbowed her gently, unable to resist a smile. “Shh.” I glanced over at Beau, taking in the solemn droop of his shoulders. “Don’t forget,” I told her. “Your Ability is different than his—it’s straightforward and makes sense. Your brother is still struggling with his, and he’s still very sad about Rocky.”

“I’m sad too,” she deadpanned. “But I’m not mean.” She picked at the sap on her little fingers.

“No, you’re not,” I admitted, and wrapped my arms around her shoulders, pulling her into me. Thea was a warm bundle of sweetness that I could always rely on for a good hug or snuggle. I kissed the top of her head. “He doesn’t mean anything by it,” I promised.

“Whatever,” Thea grumbled, nestling in closer. She sounded just like her brother.

“Okay, the word whatever is officially off limits for a while,” I announced loud enough for Beau to hear.

“Why?” Thea peered up at me with big, brown-sugar colored eyes that were as sweet and questioning as her penchant for honey, and it made me want to cuddle her closer. “What’s wrong with whatever? Beau says it all the time.”

“I know, and now that it’s the main word in both of your vocabularies, we’re going to figure out other words to use in its place.”

Thea shrugged, indifferent, and I envied how everything seemed to roll off of her shoulders. No, I was grateful for it. No matter what she’d seen or been through, Thea remained the same—bubbly, easy, and always curious. I wasn’t sure she had a cantankerous bone in her body.

Beau was more of a struggle, and having never raised kids before, I wasn’t sure how much of it was inevitable with age or how much of his mood was a result of losing everything he once had and grasping—no, clinging—onto his new life, trying to make sense of it.

“Since we’re here,” I said, deciding we should get to have some fun since Beau was sulking. “What do you think? Should we practice a little bit too?”

Thea’s eyes popped open, and snuggles forgotten, she practically jumped out of her seat. “Yes!” She didn’t use her telepathy in the house very often, since she tended to get distracted easily and drop and break things, or move things too quickly. We had dents and cracks in strange places to prove it.

She glanced at the picnic basket, and with a single thought, the smoked salmon rose out of the basket and floated into her hands.

She opened the container and pulled off a small piece, then plopped it into her mouth. She peeled off another piece and handed it to me.

“Why, thank you.” The salmon was dense and savory on my tongue.

“Your turn,” she chirped, as she lifted the bag of fruit and opened it. “You should catch something on fire.”

“I don’t know, that seems a little dangerous, how about . . .” I held out my hand and closed my eyes, willing the fire inside me to grow, but not so intensely that I couldn’t control it. I thought about my palm and felt the heat nearing the surface until the fire rose just above my skin. Opening my eyes, I smiled as flames danced on the tips of my fingers. They were small, but they were mine, and exactly as I’d imagined.

“That’s so cool.” Thea’s voice was filled with awe, and she glanced around the woods surrounding us for something.

“What are you—”

A rock, twice the size of my head, lifted from the tall grasses, a little shakily at first, before it slowly floated over. I wasn’t sure it was going to stop as it neared us, and I held my breath to move out of the way as it came closer, but then it dropped on the hem of the blanket.

“Oh, that was close,” I said, my heartbeat racing a little.

Thea giggled. “I was trying to trick you.”

“Oh, were you now?” I forced a smile. “Let’s not give Elle a heart attack quiet yet, I’m too young to die.”

Again, Thea giggled, and she plopped a dried blueberry into her mouth, then handed me the bag.

“Why, thank you.” I grabbed a handful of berries. “Beau, do you want a snack?” I called. “I brought your favorite crackers and jam—” When I glanced behind me, my heart shot up into my throat, and I couldn’t breathe. A hundred yards away, Beau was standing in a patch of sunlight filtering in through the trees. A baby bear, barely a year old, slowly approached him, chuffing with curiosity.

I swallowed the lump of fear in my throat and rose slowly to my feet. “Beau, back away from that bear.”

Beau said nothing. Just like with the wolves, he was entranced. Only this time, knowing he struggled to communicate with any animal that wasn’t one of his wolves, I had to force myself to keep from screaming at him in terror.

“Beau, I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. Get away from that bear.”

“Beau!” Thea cried out, her high pitch matched my own internal pleading. Wherever there was a baby, there was a mama, and I didn’t want a mama grizzly charging us, or worse.

“Beau . . . Answer me!”

The baby bear pawed at the ground as it drew closer. It was probably eight or nine months old, still too young to be on its own, and far too curious for its own good.

“Beau,” I bit out again. “I swear to God—”

But it was too late. Mama bear’s low growl met my ears. The fire in me snuffed out, and my body ran cold. I didn’t see her until she came through the trees, the earth shaking in her rage. Her head was held high, her ears alert, and her jog was gaining speed.

“Beau!” I shouted, and ran toward him, the fire boiling up inside me again, prepared to catch flame in an instant. When Beau finally looked back at me—the moment I saw the fear in his eyes—I knew I would have no other choice.

Fire flared on my fingertips as the mother grizzly roared in a protective fury.

“Beau!” I shouted, and as I began to let all control go, Thea screamed, and a tree cracked overhead. The sharp noise ricocheted through the woods, and before I knew what was happening, a white birch trunk fell between the stampeding grizzly and us.

The earth shook, and both mama bear and baby faltered back in fear and confusion, and in an instant, they were running in the other direction, disappearing into the trees as I fell to my knees beside Beau.

I could barely breathe as I grabbed his shoulders, turning him around to face me. “What the hell is wrong with you!” I shouted, oblivious to the fear in his eyes. “How could you be so careless?” His fear was nothing compared to mine as I imagined the grizzly getting to him before I could. “Why don’t you ever listen?” I pleaded, shaking him. My eyes blurred with tears. “You could’ve been killed—”

“I’m sorry!” Beau shouted back at me. He tore away from my grip and ran past the picnic blanket and his sister, back for the river, toward the house.

Arms and legs trembling, I rose to my feet, inhaling a deep and steadying breath as I wiped the dampness from my eyes. I peered back into the woods but saw no sign of the bear. She and her baby were long gone, and my heart was beating so quickly I thought I might hyperventilate.

When I looked at Thea, she was staring at the trampled grass Beau had left in his wake. Her chest heaved and she worried her bottom lip, but she didn’t cry.

“Good job, Thea,” I breathed, walking back over to the blanket. “Thank you for doing that.”

With shaking hands, I began to gather our things. “Thank you,” I said again, only this time it was a whisper. Whether it was the adrenaline or fear vying for control, I fought the tears that stung the backs of my eyes. I would’ve had to kill that bear. I would’ve had to watch it burn.

“He’s so stubborn,” I growled, wiping another escaped tear from my cheek. I wouldn’t always be there, and Beau was going to get himself killed if he wasn’t more careful. Thea lifted the packed basket with her mind, and I folded the blanket and grabbed my backpack. Following behind her, we made our way back to the river, and all I could think was that I was running out of patience and ways to get through to him.

32

Sophie

I was lying in bed, the sun warm through the windows, helping to lull me to sleep after a night of restlessness. My eyes were too heavy to keep open, and with Elle and the kids gone, I had a few stolen moments for a quick nap.

It wasn’t long before the muffled bird songs outside faded, and I felt my muscles ease as my thoughts drifted.

The breeze was cool on my face as I rode in the truck with Jackson. I couldn’t see him beside me, so much as I knew he was there.

Then, in a flash, I was in Riverdale, at the gym Alex and I had gone into to deposit supplies in one of our hidden storage areas. We swept the building, moving through the lobby and weight room.

I was walking into the locker room, worried why Alex wasn’t responding, only to have his hand reach out to stop me from seeing the dead woman on the floor. She’d been stabbed, though I hadn’t remembered that part of it. She was crazy. I hadn’t remembered that part of it either.

I stared at Alex’s hand, held out to stop me from looking. Part of me knew he did it out of concern, but another part of me thought he was too concerned too often, and Phil was the one that understood me.

In another flash, I was outside with Phil’s hand on my shoulder, his voice low as he asked me if I was okay. I was upset, but not by the dead body, she’d been a wicked woman when she was alive and deserved it. I was upset because Alex had walked away from me, again.

But why did I worry so much about Alex? Phil was the one I should care about. He was the one who cared, and thinking about his honey-colored eyes and his constant smile made me inexplicably happy. I wrapped my arms around Phil and pressed a kiss to his lips, desperate to feel the admiration I saw in his eyes.

A raven cawed outside my window, and I stirred awake. Blinking my eyes open, I stared out at the cloud-dappled sky. I’d never felt so in and out of my own dreams before, like I was both actor and audience at the same time, and like the others, this one was more of a skewed memory.

My dreams had always been more like a hodgepodge of other people’s memories, but they were becoming something different; they were shifting, just like my Ability seemed to shift over time. I thought about the Slana dream and how disturbingly close it had been to reality, but it was the slight differences that had stuck with me—the haunting intimacy of the man’s words. “I can feel your mind, Sophie. I can see what you fear the most.”

Climbing out of bed, I decided I didn’t want to think about what this meant for my Ability, and what new facet it would mold into. One part of my dream was correct, I worried too much about Alex and things I couldn’t control. I pulled on my boots to go outside, then made my way downstairs. I tried not to fixate on the fact that I’d had another memory-dream about Phil, and how innocent and yet how unsettled it had left me.

The moment I got to the sliding glass door, I knew something was wrong. Elle was never stationary and brooding, but there she was, standing on the wraparound deck, staring toward the river. Her hands were crossed over her chest, her gaze equally pensive.

Reluctant to disturb her thoughtful silence, I opened the door and stepped outside, glancing from Elle to the river. “What happened?” I asked gently. “Is everything okay?”

Elle worried her bottom lip, and slightly shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.” Her voice was low and quiet. She was clearly upset. Clearing her throat, she finally looked at me. “How was your nap?”

“All right, I guess.” I stepped up beside her and gazed out at the property. Beau sat on one of the boulders that lined the river, with Little Foot curled up beside him. “What happened?”

Elle stood silently for a few moments, her gaze fixed on Beau. “He’s angry at me for yelling at him,” she admitted. “And embarrassed, I think.”

“Uh oh.” I knew they’d been practicing, which I assumed had ended badly.

“He was being stubborn as always, and trying to communicate with a baby grizzly.”

I groaned, knowing full well where she was going with the story. “Oh, shit.”

“Yep. Mom wasn’t too happy about that, but thankfully Thea scared her off before it went too far.”

“I’m assuming it wasn’t with her scary monster face,” I joked.

“She felled a tree.”

I could fill in the rest. The horror. The frustration of Beau not listening, and relief that Thea could save them, so that Elle didn’t have to. “I’ll go talk to him,” I told her. “See if I can get him to come in.”

“Only if he wants to,” she said. “He can be angry with me as long as he wants. He has to learn somehow. I’d rather him be angry and humiliated than dead.” Elle sounded more like a mother than ever before. She gave me a whatever you think is best look, then, with a sigh, she turned and walked into the house. “Come inside, Thea!” she called. “It’s time to get started on dinner.”

“I’ll get her,” I said. “And I’ll come in and help after I talk to Beau.”

Elle nodded, and I made my way down the steps and toward Thea’s fort in the trees. I could hear her little voice chatting away. “Thea, it’s time to come in,” I called. She’d been spending more and more time settling into her fort; we always knew where to find her.

“Coming!” Thea chirped, and I heard a rustling. She popped out just as I got to her fort.

“What was all that noise about?” I rested my hand on her shoulder and glanced at her balled-up blankets, a doll, coloring books, and a few more snack boxes. “Are you feeding a family out here now, or what?” I teased. “And it looks like you brought out half of your room.”

“We get bored,” she explained. “Aria’s doesn’t like to be home very much. She needs a friend, like me.” Like me, I realized. I knew Thea wished she had more kids to play with, since Beau wasn’t ever much fun.

“I see. And what else do you and Aria have in common?”

“Well,” she said, following me back toward the house. “She doesn’t like fish all that much, and she likes animals. She can talk to them, like Beau, but she’s way better at it.”

“Well don’t tell him that,” I muttered and patted her backside. “All right, head to the house and help Elle with dinner, okay? I’m going to get Beau.”

When Thea’s eyes flicked to mine, she leaned closer. “You missed all the action,” she whispered conspiratorially.

“I heard,” I whispered back with a wink.

“Brothers are so annoying,” she said, mostly to herself, and Thea skipped back toward the house. I was a little thankful she had an imaginary friend. At least she didn’t feel alone, the way a lot of us did sometimes.

With that thought, I headed toward the river. Beau had gone from being distracted and moody, to endangering himself, Elle, and Thea, and I worried now more than ever if Beau felt he had to prove something to himself after what happened to Rocky.

Dirt crunched under my boots as I made my way down the path toward the boulders. When I popped out at the rocky bank, Little Foot lifted his head to look at me, his tail wagging, excited to have a visitor. Beau, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care much that I was there.

Jumping up, Little Foot climbed off the boulder and trotted over to me, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

“Hey, stinky,” I said, rubbing his ears. I stopped a few yards from the boulder Beau sat on. “At least someone’s happy to see me,” I muttered, wanting to get a rise out of him.

“What are you doing down here? Did Elle tell everyone what happened?”

“No, no one knows but me.”

“Whatever,” he grumbled.

I climbed up on the rock beside him. “Where are the others?” I asked, referring to his furry friends. “Hunting?”

Beau shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Wow, that’s pretty mopey sounding, even for you,” I told him, determined to break through the funk he’d been stewing in for so long. “Now look, I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but you can’t be angry with Elle for being worried about you.”

“She yelled at me.”

“Because you deserved it,” I countered.

Beau glared at me.

“You scared the crap out of her, Beau. You don’t always know what’s best, you know?”

“Like you do?”

I laughed. “No, not at all. That’s why we all stick together and take care of each other. Like, what would’ve happened if Alex hadn’t found you in Whitely?” It was sort of a harsh question, I realized after I said it, but it was honest and it seemed like Beau needed a reminder that he didn’t know how to do everything on his own. “What would I have done if Elle hadn’t found me? And Elle would still be wondering what happened to her sister if she hadn’t. So, you see, we all need each other. All of this stuff is hard, and you can’t close everyone out and throw a tantrum just because you’re in a bad mood.”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum.”

I tilted my head. “So then, what are you doing over here all by yourself?”

“I’m just sitting here.”

“Avoiding Elle.”

“No.”

“Yes,” I countered again, and Beau rolled his eyes. “Fine. Look me in the eyes and tell me why you’re over here all alone.”

He practically growled and tossed a pebble into the river. “I don’t get why she was so worried. She could have killed the bear if she had to. I’m not that stupid.” He spat the words out so easily, I bristled.

“That’s why you ignored her, because you knew she could kill the bear if she had to?”

He picked up a dead pine needle off the boulder and broke it in his fingers. “I didn’t ignore her, I just—I knew she could stop it.”

“Stop it, or kill it?” I stared at him, letting my question sink in. “How would her killing that innocent bear for you have made you feel?”

Beau shrugged, and blew out a deep breath, annoyed with me but I didn’t care.

“I think you would feel pretty bad. Especially since you know it wouldn’t be a quick, painless death.” He would never willingly hurt an innocent animal, not the Beau I knew. “Elle would feel horrible about it, but she’d still do it for you, you know? She’d do anything to protect you. And then she’d have to live with that.”

Beau picked up another pebble and threw it into the water. I wanted every single word to sink into his obstinate, eleven-year-old skull. But the longer he sat there in silence, the more I began to wonder if it was making any difference at all.

“Beau,” I prompted. “What do you—”

He faced me. “Will you check and see what’s wrong with me?” His voice was small and brittle, and it took me a moment to register it. His eyes shined like two lapis orbs and with the same desperation I heard in his voice. It nearly broke my heart.

“Beau, there’s nothing wrong with you. Trust me, I would know. Your sister’s hair is brown and yours is blonde, but you had the same parents,” I began to explain, though, reminding him of his dead parents at a time like this made me wonder if I shouldn’t quit my day job. “You have different DNA in your bodies, we all do, and that means your genes and the code that makes you you is different than Thea’s and everyone else’s in the world.”

Beau stared down at the pebbles beneath his fingers.

“Hear me out, okay?” I leaned closer. “If something as simple as eye and hair color could be so different between siblings, Abilities between complete strangers would be even more different, right? You can’t compare what you can do with what someone else can do. It’s just like saying I’m broken because I write with my left hand and a lot of other people write with their right hand.”

“My dad wrote with his left hand,” Beau remembered, and even if it was a painful thought, I could tell he was starting to understand.

“So did my mom,” I told him, and the admission hurt my heart a little. I’d forgotten she was left handed, just like I was. I remembered the way her hair curled naturally when she was fresh out of the shower, while mine had always been straight as an arrow. I liked remembering the little things, I realized, because it felt like I was starting to forget them. Why couldn’t I have dreams about her, or of the good memories? Why did they always have to be about the bad?

“You know,” I said quietly. “I’m sure there are others who have an Ability like me, because I can’t be the only one, and I know that whatever version of this Ability they have, will also be different than mine. Better maybe. Easier. I wish mine was, more than anything, and it sucks that it’s so hard—I even hate it sometimes. But we have what we have, and there’s nothing we can do about it.” I shrugged because I hated how true my words were. “I don’t think any two people could ever be the exact same. Not even twins, or Elle’s sister would be alive. So, whatever you can do or can’t do is just how it is. It doesn’t mean you’re broken, Beau.”

He nodded half-heartedly and his chest heaved. “I just—I want to be helpful, like Alex. He kept the plant running all winter, and Thea helped build the barn with her mind. I couldn’t protect Thea that night when—” His chin trembled and he looked away from me. “I can’t even protect the wolves.” His voice cracked, and I could feel his sense of helplessness like it was my own.

“You can’t stop nature from happening, and what happened to Rocky wasn’t your fault. I know we can’t all wield fireballs and move trees, but what you can do is very important. If the wolves weren’t always around, patrolling the river and the roads, we probably wouldn’t have stayed here. They protect us, and that’s because of you.” I hit his shoulder lightly. “Without you and the wolves, Jackson and Alex might not have found us when we were kidnapped.”

“Do you think that’s why Rocky was hurt? Do you think he was trying to protect us?”

“It could be. Maybe the bear was getting too close to the house. She does have a baby to feed, if it was her that did it, that is.”

I wasn’t sure if the thought of Rocky dying to save us was somehow better for Beau to accept than not knowing how and why he couldn’t protect his wolf. “I know you want to help. And I know it’s hard to watch the others sometimes. I feel that way too. But we’re all different, and we all have our own parts to play. And we can’t endanger everyone else because we’re lost or scared or confused. We have to help each other.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am. I’m awesome.”

Beau looked at me. “Do you think there are other ways I can help?”

“There are a ton of ways, but you can start by doing some of the chores you’ve been flaking on,” I told him.

The lightness in Beau’s voice faded, and he glanced toward the house. “Is Elle really mad?”

Elated that he seemed to be coming around, I shook my head with a sympathetic smile. “No, she’s worried about you. There’s a difference. She thinks you might hurt yourself trying to be something you’re not. And after today, she’s even more scared.”

Beau looked sheepishly away.

“I bet if you go up and give her a hug, she’ll forget it even happened. She can’t resist your hugs, or that boyish charm of yours.”

Beau’s tentative smile broadened.

“You could even help with dinner, for good measure.”

Beau glanced at the house again. “I am kinda hungry.”

“Me too. We’ll help, but snack when she’s not looking, okay?” I winked at him, and with a real, true smile, he scooted to the edge of the rock, then jumped down.

Little Foot abandoned his water exploration and splashed back over to us through the water, realizing playtime was over. But as he got to the bank, he stopped, his head fell low and his gray heckles rose as he growled at something across the river.

“Someone’s coming,” Beau said instantly, and chills raked over my skin.

A horse whinnied first, and I heard the metal bridle clanking as it walked into view along the tree line. A woman sat on top of a tall, sweat-crusted, chestnut horse. I was unarmed and grabbed Beau’s hand. “Keep Little Foot close,” I whispered.

The woman had a long, dirty-blonde braid hanging over her shoulder and a pack of sorts, tied to the saddle. She looked like she might’ve been Elle’s age, but it was hard to tell with the dirt that shadowed her face. By the look of her horse, she’d been riding for a while.

She was closer to our homestead than I was comfortable with, but she looked at me just as cagily, like she wasn’t expecting to see us either.

Finally, she lifted her hand slowly and nonthreateningly. “I’m headed to Whitehorse,” she called over the sound of the whooshing water.

Although I didn’t trust strangers, I wanted to believe her; and she looked strangely familiar. I saw the pistol on her belt. She could’ve easily drawn it on me and galloped away, but she hadn’t.

“You’re going the long way,” I called. Silently, I questioned why she wouldn’t be walking the freeway, which was a straight shot into Whitehorse, but I wouldn’t take the most obvious route either. Maybe she’d heard about our power plant and safe haven somehow, and she was looking for us.

I pointed down the river. “The water is more shallow around the next bend, if you want to cross.” I hoped I wouldn’t regret telling her that, but she seemed just as skeptical as I did.

Finally, after a few moments of consideration, the woman agreed with a quick, decisive nod, then she continued on horseback down the riverbank.

“What are you doing?” Beau chided. “She could be dangerous.”

“I know, that’s why I need you to run and get Elle, and have her meet me by the bridge before that woman crosses.” I flashed him the most reassuring smile I could. “Just in case. You make sure Thea stays safe in the house.”

Beau didn’t hesitate, like I’d expected him to. He nodded and took off running up the trail toward the house. Little Foot stayed with me, probably at Beau’s bidding, and the wolf and I followed the woman’s progress toward the bridge.

I headed to the rocky, narrow bank lined with trees, and waited for the rider and her horse to step into view.

“Sophie,” Elle called quietly, jogging toward me. She didn’t bother asking questions. That’s how trust worked between us, and I appreciated it.

“I’ve seen this woman before,” I told her. “I can’t put my finger on it, but she’s hazy in my mind.”

“That’s strange.” Elle’s attention was fixed on the blonde and her horse as they tromped their way across the river. The horse didn’t seem to care about the current rushing halfway up his legs.

“She doesn’t look familiar to me,” Elle said.

The woman eyed Elle and me cautiously as she drew closer, equally uneasy about us. She didn’t seem to notice the three tentative wolves that suddenly surrounded us, which meant Beau must’ve been close too. The horse noticed them, however, and hesitated with wild eyes and a frenzied step backward.

“Easy,” the woman crooned, but her eyes remained fixed on Elle, almost probing.

“They won’t hurt the horse,” Elle promised. “Unless they have to.”

The rider pulled the chestnut to a stop where the water met the bank, the horse’s hooves still submerged in water. “I’m not here to cause any trouble,” she said. Her voice wasn’t reassuring, so much as it was practiced and calm, like she was used to this conversation.

“Neither are we. But you can’t blame us for being cautious.” Elle’s hand rested on the pistol at her hip.

The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly on Elle. “No, I can’t, but I’m looking for a . . . friend,” she explained. “Nothing more.”

“You’re heading the right way to Whitehorse,” I told her again, “but there’s a shorter route than following the river.”

Tentatively, the woman pried her gaze from Elle, almost like she was afraid to look away. “I’d rather take the long way than be seen by the wrong people,” she said, and carefully, she held up her hands. “I’m going to dismount my horse.”

I eyed the woman’s pistol, still holstered in her belt.

Elle’s gaze didn’t waver as she dipped her chin. “Slowly please.” I hadn’t realized Elle had pulled her pistol out and held it in her hand.

The rider dismounted her horse, and despite its unease, standing in front of the wolves, the horse made an audible sigh of relief and lowered his head to slurp the water at its feet.

Jackson wasn’t here to tell us whether she was safe or if I’d made a grave mistake, so I decided to find out for myself; it was time to see what our visitor was really thinking. Carefully, I offered her my hand. “Welcome, I guess. I’m Sophie.”

Again, the woman’s eyes fell on Elle, and I feared she wouldn’t accept my gesture when, finally, her hand, rough and dusty, took mine with a firm grasp. “Kat.”

Instantly, I knew her Ability was energy related, and I felt pain and the prickles of fear. But when I saw a flash of Elle’s face in her mind, and felt Kat’s adoration, sense of loss, and love for her, I dropped her hand in surprise.

If Kat noticed anything strange about me, she didn’t react. She was too busy looking at Elle with an expression of awe.

“Who is the friend you’re looking for?” I asked. “Because there’s no one in town, other than our people.”

Kat finally looked at me, and I could tell that she was either stalling or deciding the safest answer. “I only know him by his radio name,” she said. “Hawk Eyes.”

My breath caught in my throat, and Elle and I opened our mouths to speak at the same time. “You’re Nightingale?”

33

Sophie

Elle allowed Kat to shower and change in the bathroom downstairs, insisting that the four of us stay close and be watchful, the wolves included, in case Nightingale had ulterior motives.

“Thank you for allowing my horse to rest,” Kat said as she set her chili spoon into her bowl. “And for the food. It’s been a long week on the road.”

Though Kat was polite enough, she was guarded. Every look was sharp and calculating. Every word was thoughtful and measured. But if she was Nightingale, and had been on the run or in hiding over the past couple years, it seemed natural that it was second nature for her to be so careful.

She sat across from Elle at the dining room table, dressed in a pair of Elle’s clean cargo pants and a white tank top. The days of dust were washed from her face; the dirt under her trimmed fingernails was gone; her darker blonde hair was more golden than brown now as it dried in waves around her face. But even clean, she had an edge to her that was both admirable and a little frightening, and I couldn’t for the life of me think of how I knew her.

I’m not sure what I expected Nightingale to look like, but this woman was pretty, yet hardened by the world. I could see it in the slight crease around her eyes, and the scar on her left cheek. Without baggy, unwashed clothes, Kat looked stronger than I’d initially given her credit for, and definitely more capable. Her arms were well honed, and there wasn’t an ounce of fat around her midsection. Her pretty, dark blue eyes were so striking that I had a difficult time looking away from them. They held secrets and pain, or maybe that’s what I noticed because of what I saw when I’d touched her.

Kat took another bite of chili and ate awkwardly in silence as we all watched her; Beau, Thea, and the three wolves included.

Elle needed to know that this woman knew her somehow, that she was on the forefront of Kat’s mind, but I was apprehensive to say anything in front of Kat.

“Well,” Kat said, wiping her mouth with her napkin as she rose to her feet. She’d barely eaten half of her chili, but she was anxious to leave, even if her stomach rumbled to have more food. “Thank you for this, but I really need to get to Hawk Eyes. And I think we can all agree that this is uncomfortable.” She pulled her hair up into a ponytail, flashing the tattoo on her neck just below her ear.

“The crown,” I breathed.

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry?”

“That tattoo, behind your ear—”

“Ross had it scribbled on his notes,” Elle realized. “It was all over his maps when we first met up with him.” While that was true, I’d completely forgotten that. JJ was the person I thought about. She’d had the same tattoo on her neck, covered with blood, the day she was wheeled out of her apartment.

Then it hit me like a cold front on a hot day, and I gasped. “You’re the medic—that’s how I know you.” All too quickly I was back in the elevator the night JJ was wheeled out of her apartment in Whitely.

Kat’s eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. “I’m the what?” She looked as confused as Elle did, but I couldn’t bring myself to mention JJ convulsing on the gurney—her horrible final moments—in front of Elle.

I met Kat’s genuine confusion with a hearty dose of my own. “I’ve been a few different things in my life, but I’ve never been a medic,” she told me. “You must be thinking of someone else.”

Was I remembering incorrectly? I could have been. I remembered the medic was a woman and that she had blonde hair . . . at least I think she had. I’d been too horrified, watching my neighbor dying, to pay much attention.

But what did the matching tattoos mean?

There was no way Kat could leave until we knew, not when the symbol was tied to both JJ and Ross.

“When will they be back?” I whispered, and looked at Elle. I needed Jackson there, and Ross too, for that matter. Between the two of them, they would figure out what was going on.

Elle looked overwhelmingly perplexed and a little worried. I was beginning to feel that way too. “Soon, I think,” she said. But soon didn’t feel fast enough.

“I really should get going.” Kat reached for her bowl.

“No,” I practically pleaded. “What does it mean?” I pointed to her tattoo. “We have to know . . . please.”

Kat exhaled, like she was resolved to stay a little bit longer against her better judgement.

She sat back down in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. This was clearly the last place she wanted to be, but she wasn’t pushing to leave, which was a good sign.

“If you know that I’m Nightingale, then you probably also know I was in the military,” she said. “The tattoo is a brand of sorts.”

“The military?” That piqued Beau’s interest. Unlike me, he didn’t know much about Nightingale, and that she had worked for the General—which I’d actually forgotten about in my surprise, until now.

Kat glanced at him and dipped her chin, hesitant. “I was part of Special Projects. I worked in logistics for the Reparations Mission, though what I was assigned to do was much different than I’d expected.” She stared down at a cut on the tip of her finger, and I desperately wanted to know what she was thinking.

“What’s that got to do with the tattoo?” Elle asked, and I could feel the heat of her body beside me. Something about Kat was making her anxious.

“Not everyone in the military worked for Herodson, but in the years leading up to the outbreak, the people who worked for him were branded so that those in charge could spot who was trustworthy.”

“So you knew who you were working for,” Elle bit out, and rose to her feet. “Which makes you dangerous and the worst of them.”

If Kat’s expression was guarded before, it was teetering precariously close to complete lockdown. She stood slowly, her chair scraping the hardwood floor. “I was never with General Herodson,” she said with a convincing scowl. “I didn’t know what the tattoo meant until the outbreak, and that’s when I tried to get out. All of my unit got tattoos, and we did so without question because in the military we didn’t get the privilege of asking questions, we followed orders—there’s a code.” Kat’s shoulders drooped a little. “When I did start asking questions, it was too late.”

“Why are you really here?” Elle demanded. “Why come to see Woody now? It’s been over a year. What is it you want from him—or us?”

“I’m looking for someone, and he might be able to help me.”

“Who?” Elle countered.

Kat clamped her mouth shut, like she wanted to say something but thought better of it. Her jaw clenched, and she glared at Elle like she had a lot of nerve demanding anything from her.

“You might as well tell me, because you’re not leaving here until you do.” Elle’s eyes glowed red, and I nearly choked in surprise.

Kat’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t look afraid as much as she seemed all the more adamant. “I’m here for Woody—I’ll talk to him.”

“Elle,” I breathed. This was escalating too quickly, and there was something about Kat that I trusted, strangely. “I don’t think she’s here to hurt us.”

Elle didn’t bother looking at me. “Then she has nothing to hide.”

I flashed Kat a pleading look. “Please. Just tell us what you’re doing here.”

“Why are you so desperate for his help?” Elle asked. “Who are you running from?”

“I’m not running,” Kat said tersely. “Not from a person anyway.”

“What are you running from,” Thea asked meekly from her seat. “A monster?” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, and I could only imagine what was going through the kids’ heads.

Kat’s eyes softened ever so slightly, and she shook her head. “No, not from a monster. From time, or what little of it is left, anyway.”

There was a collective gasp from each of us as her ominous words hung in the air.

“Why?” For the first time since Kat had arrived, I was truly frightened. “What’s going to happen?”

“Nothing to you,” she said, and if I wasn’t mistaken, she was trying to reassure me. “Not to any of you. That’s not what this is about.”

We stood quietly watching her, waiting. Her vagueness was beginning to freak me out. The silence ticked on.

Resigned, Kat continued. “Your bodies naturally mutated with the Virus, but that’s not the case for everyone.” Her words held a shred of defeat. “There are some of us who have been genetically altered and experimented on so much, they’re running out of time.”

“Like you? Did they experiment on you when—”

“Please,” Kat said, cutting me off. “Don’t ask any more questions.”

Then I remembered Woody’s story about what the General had done to him—the years of experiments and injections. I felt the blood drain from my face. Was Woody going to die?

34

Alex

I stared out through the tinted windows of the front of the hardware building, into the empty parking lot. After a year and a half of harsh winds and rain, snow in the winter, and unrelenting sun in the summers, the buildings were beginning to stain and their colors fade. The sidewalks were overrun with weeds that grew like wheat stalks out of every imperfection in the pavement.

Small dirt tornadoes whipped through the dusty, vacant streets. The eerie sound of rusty, creaking hinges and settling metal siding punctuated the silence from time to time, but they were all sounds of being in town.

I heard the scratch of wire against concrete somewhere in the warehouse, and the murmur of Ross and Jackson’s stilted conversation. Jackson was worried about Ross, and Ross didn’t want to talk about what had happened with the dying wolf. They’d exchanged the same conversations before—a concerned look, and a few clipped words—and I was trying to give them their space.

Ross clomped into the cashier area, where I waited with a pallet cart loaded with the rest of our supplies.

“You waiting for the ice cream truck or something?” he asked, his boots scuffing against the cement. “You’ve been standing there for a while.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” I muttered. “I was just thinking that we’re keeping the power plant going and this place is falling apart.”

“It will be fine,” Ross said, dropping a two-by-four on the cart. “If people do come, whenever that happens, we’ll have the bones at least, that’s what matters. And the power.”

It was beginning to feel like a waste to keep the power plant going for only the eleven of us.

“Do you think they’ll ever come?” I glanced at Ross as he walked up beside me, peering out the window at the road.

“I don’t know, but things will be a lot different if they do.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.” And part of me yearned for it. I wanted more to do; I needed it. There was nothing left to do to the prison—it was over-the-top reinforced now, for no reason. The homestead was thriving. The hydro plant was up and running for the summer, and I had a few months before I needed to worry about holing myself up there again. The lack of pressing things to do made me restless.

“Come on,” Jackson said, wheeling a cart full of netting over. “Let’s get this loaded up and get home. We might be able to finish the fish wheel tonight and be done with it for good.”

I draped my rifle strap over my shoulder. It would be another project finished, and I’d need another one to fill its place. “I was thinking we should start inventorying what supplies we have left,” I thought aloud. As I turned for the cart, movement at the south end of the street caught my eye.

“Hey, look.” I stepped closer to the window, and pulled the travel-sized binoculars from my pocket and held them up to my eyes. “It’s a horse . . . and there’s a man on its back.” They were walking up the street, about a half a mile away.

“Shit,” Jackson muttered. “I told Elle I had a funny feeling about something.” He and Ross both grabbed their guns and hurried over to watch out the window beside me.

Through the binoculars, I could tell he was wearing sunglasses and a hat, and had a long jacket on, likely to shield him from the sun. I refocused the binoculars on the horse. “I wonder how long they’ve been walking. The horse is drenched in sweat.”

When the guy finally stopped his gray horse a couple blocks down, I dropped the binoculars. “Looks like they’re resting in the shade.”

“Stay here,” Jackson said, and he walked toward the door.

“What are you doing?” Ross hissed, and took a step after him.

“I don’t think he’s a threat, but he’ll see our truck out there, half loaded with gear, and know we’re here, eventually. I don’t want him to think we’re being sneaky.” And Jackson would know if the guy was dangerous. He nodded to Ross’s Glock. “But shoot the bastard if he pulls anything on me,” he added for good measure.

Ross followed Jackson to the doorway, waiting in the threshold as Jackson slowly stepped out of the building with his hands up and his gun strapped behind his back.

“Hello there!” Jackson called, and the man spun around, his hand reaching for the shotgun strapped to the saddle. His horse’s head shot up, spooked by the sudden movement.

“I’m unarmed,” Jackson said, though it wasn’t true. He didn’t stray too far from the store entrance, but he stopped in plain sight so the person could see him. “We don’t get people in town often. Are you looking for someone?”

The man stared at Jackson, then glanced up and down the street, probably to make sure it wasn’t some sort of trap. When he was satisfied enough, the rider gathered the horse’s reins and led him closer.

From the doorway, Ross aimed his Glock on the rider in suspended silence. It was crazy to think that a single new person could make me break out in a cold sweat of uncertainty, especially in a desolate place like this.

The rider stopped a dozen yards shy of Jackson. “I’m making my way toward the prison,” they said, but it wasn’t the voice of a man.

Ross looked at me, and I shrugged.

Holding the binoculars up again, I watched as the woman pulled her hat from her head and a mess of dark hair fell out of it and around her shoulders. Then she removed her sunglasses, and I dropped the binoculars on the cement floor with a clatter.

“Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?” Ross rasped.

“Yeah,” I breathed, unable to look away from her. “Either Elle’s hair grew six inches overnight, or that’s not Elle.”

Ross and I blinked at one another, then squinted out at Jackson. He must’ve been shitting his pants standing in front of an Elle look-alike.

“I am not here to cause trouble,” she said. “I am looking for Hawk Eyes. Do you know where I can find him?”

Jackson stiffened and took a hesitant step closer. “Who the hell are you?”

35

Elle

I stared at Kat as I processed what she was saying about too much mutation and experimentation. Was she talking about herself?

I heard the Tacoma pull up outside, and relief filled me instantly. “Stay here,” I told Sophie, handing her my gun. I had other means of protecting myself. I looked at Kat, not fully trusting her, but I believed what she was saying, mostly.

Kat responded with a heavy, annoyed breath, and I motioned for the kids to follow me outside where I knew they’d be safe. I hurried into the living room and then out the sliding screen door.

When I stepped outside, Ross and Jackson were still in the Tacoma, their outlines barely visible through the truck’s tinted windows.

I hurried down the steps with Thea’s hand in mine, and spotted Alex in the truck bed with the supplies, instead of in the backseat.

Jackson opened the passenger door and climbed out.

“Thank God,” I breathed, feeling immensely better they were home. Jackson didn’t bother shutting the door as he hurried over to me, his long strides eating the distance between us. His brow was etched with worry and his chest rose and fell, and as he approached, his eyebrows pinched together.

Alex stood in the back of the truck, his expression equally concerned, and the blood in my veins—the fire—flared a little, along with my apprehension, before I realized what must’ve worried him. “Kat.” All at once I realized that whatever she was—all that she’d claimed—was probably a lie. We’d fallen into some sort of a trap and Jackson could feel it. She’d distracted us or used us somehow.

Jackson’s jaw tightened and his lips parted as if he were searching for the right words, and my heart began to race. How serious a mistake had we made? “Jesus, Jackson. Spit it out.”

“Elle,” he said, hesitant, and he reached for my arm.

The back passenger door closest to me opened, and a woman stepped out with long, burnt umber hair like mine, hanging over one shoulder, and sunglasses covering her eyes. “Another one?” I breathed.

The woman shut the door, her gaze fixed on me, and I stared at her, unblinking. She was breathtakingly familiar, and my mind began to spin. “What is this?” I bit out, taking a few uncertain steps closer to the truck. “Who is this?” I demanded, and glared at Jackson.

“Elle,” the woman said in a thick, familiar rough voice, and she removed her sunglasses.

My breath caught in my lungs. My heart pounded against my sternum, and I had to force myself to breathe when my chest grew too tight.

“No,” I told her. “You died.” But I knew that wasn’t true, even if I couldn’t explain it.

“I did not,” she answered calmly, and my legs nearly gave out from under me. She had a dark freckle under her left eye, the same freckle Jenny had, the only visible difference between us since birth.

I looked at Jackson, nearly falling backward. He grabbed my arm to steady me, and I peered up at him. “What is this? What—”

“She was in Whitehorse, looking for Woody,” he explained. “When she realized I knew you, she asked to come here.”

I vaguely registered the sound of footsteps behind me. Shocked and stunned, I stared at Jenny as guilt, elation, and confusion overcame me.

“JJ?” Kat startled me. “You’re here.” Her voice was watery, her footsteps hurried as she closed the distance between her and my sister. “Thank God,” Kat rasped, and wrapped her arms around her.

Jenny’s eyes fluttered closed and her mouth turned upright ever so slightly.

“I began to think you hadn’t made it.” Kat pulled away and cupped the side of Jenny’s face with her hands, her eyes frantically searching over my sister, ensuring she was okay. Then, Kat pressed her lips to Jenny’s, almost desperate.

Nightingale was Kat.

Kat was with my sister.

My sister wasn’t dead.

Without Jackson’s arm around me, I thought I might fall. My hands shook, every thought whirred so fast, I couldn’t grasp hold of any of them. All I could do was watch in utter confusion as my sister, very much alive, kissed Kat back. She looked stoic and yet relieved. And different. Everything about her was very, very different.

Jenny’s mouth cracked into a pleased but tight smile as she took Kat’s visage in. Then, like suddenly she remembered I was standing there, she looked at me.

Squeezing Kat’s hand in hers, Jenny turned to face me. “I know you are confused,” she said slowly, and took a tentative step closer. “And I will explain what I can.”

But her words fell on deaf ears. My sister was alive. I’d left her in Whitely to who knew what fate, and here she was. Breathing. Standing a couple yards in front of me. Changed, but still . . . Jenny.

Tears burned my eyes, and I choked out a sob as guilt and elation consumed me. “You’re alive—I left, and you were there, alive.”

Jenny walked up to me. “I am alive,” she said, and hesitantly, she wrapped her arms around me.

“I am alive,” she whispered in reassurance.

I wound my arms around her, holding on for dear life, should she decide to disappear. “I left you—I’m so sorry I left you,” I sobbed into her neck, but even in my self-disgust, I felt unbridled happiness and dread that it was all a dream.

“You did not leave me behind, Elle. I was already gone.”

36

Elle

I’m not sure how many minutes went by as I sat in the recliner in the living room, listening to the whispered chatter that filled the house while Woody was brought up to speed. I was too busy being lost in my disbelief and confusion to know much more than that. While I had hundreds of questions for my sister, the woman in front of me wasn’t completely convincing, and I hesitated to fully accept what was happening.

“I’m sorry if I did the wrong thing,” Jackson said quietly crouched beside me. He hadn’t left my side since he got home. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

I forced myself to look at him, to see his beautiful face and remind myself that right now—this moment—was real. Jackson was real. Jenny, sitting on the couch across from me as she picked at her food, was real. While what little explanation I’d gotten so far had made sense, it only sprouted more questions.

“I’m glad you did,” I told him, and cupped the side of his face. “I’m glad you did.” I wasn’t sure if I repeated it for his benefit or to remind myself that I was relieved she was here, and that I was relieved she was alive.

There were heavy footsteps on the porch behind me as Kat and Woody spoke in hushed voices on the deck, punctuated with a “we’ll talk more tomorrow” remark before their voices fell quiet.

Like me, Sophie hadn’t left the living room. She’d seen Jenny in the moments of her death, or what Sophie thought was her death, so I could imagine her surprise was much like mine. A gut-churning shock—bile inducing, nerve fraying shock.

“Um—bye ya’ll,” Woody said from the sliding door. Now that Woody had spoken to his infamous Nightingale, he was leaving.

I might’ve uttered a goodbye, but my mind was too chaotic to tell. Gratefully, Alex had taken Thea and Beau outside to help Ross unload the supplies, and as the house settled into silence again, I began to stir from my haze.

I wiped the remnants of moisture from beneath my eyes and stared at Jenny on the sectional in front of me. Seeing her was like looking into a mirror, only it was a reflection of myself ten years from now.

Jenny was hardened in an indescribable way, and despite her same, heart-shaped face, her eyes weren’t the fern-green color we’d always shared, but a strange, charcoal-gray with flecks of green so pale, they were nearly white.

The screen door squeaked open, and Kat walked back into the living room to sit beside Jenny. This Kat was different than the woman that sat across from me at the dining room table earlier. The change in her was slight, but her relief was obvious, though I wasn’t sure why they’d been separated to begin with. Her expression was softer when she looked at Jenny, her voice quieter and almost uncertain, no longer edged with sharp determination.

“You sat right there, knowing who I was the whole time, and didn’t say anything,” I said, glaring at Kat. “It’s why you were looking at me so strangely.”

Jackson cleared his throat. “I’ll be right outside, if you need me.”

Kat’s steely eyes shifted from Jackson, to Jenny, and then to me. “I knew who you were,” she admitted, but she didn’t seem the slightest bit apologetic about it. “But JJ wasn’t here, that much was clear, and it wasn’t my place to tell you.” Her feelings for my sister were clear, her loyalty even more so, but the fact that she’d kept it from me, that she knew so much more about me than she’d let on, didn’t annoy me any less. “I thought my sister was dead.”

“I thought I was dead too, Elle,” Jenny admitted, and glanced up from her long fingers entwined with Kat’s. Her chili was cold and discarded on the coffee table in front of her. “It has taken me a while to put all of the pieces together, but—I am here because of Kat. She saved me.”

The deck creaked as Jackson paced back and forth outside.

“I know this is confusing,” Kat started, “but—”

“Wait, we should give her a moment.” Jenny’s words were reserved but soft.

The Jenny I knew would have some snide remark about sucking it up and just being grateful she’d found me. She’d somehow try to make me feel like my reactions were skewed, and that I was overreacting.

But there was a wall around this Jenny, a silence in her countenance that was eerily calm despite having found Kat and I both in a single day. “The questions will come when she is ready.”

She didn’t even sound like my sister, her voice almost robotic. And the fact that Jenny thought she knew me anymore, if ever at all, bothered me. So much had changed in the past year alone, and Jenny hadn’t known who I was before the Virus. She’d never wanted to. Even if everything was different now, and I knew I shouldn’t hold the past against her, it was difficult not to.

My eyes locked with my sister’s. “How long have you known I was alive?”

Jenny’s hesitance to answer made the coiling unease in the pit of my stomach tighten.

“Since you arrived in Whitehorse,” she said.

Well over a year. It was difficult not to laugh with resentment. “First, you run away and leave me behind without bothering to look back. Then, you ignore me for years, only talking to me when you felt like it. Now—now you show up here, and you tell me you’ve known I’m alive for all of this time, and you’re only just coming to find me? Did you purposely wait for me to come to terms with the fact that you were dead and it might’ve been my fault? Did you want me to have a false sense of acceptance with the way things turned out?”

As her altered green eyes shifted over mine, I realized I didn’t know a thing about her either. Not a single fucking thing. We were both strangers, and now more than ever it felt that way.

“I know you felt abandoned, Eleanor—”

“Don’t call me that,” I bit out. “You know I hated her and everything about her.”

“You hated the idea of what she did, but you did not hate her.” Jenny’s tone sounded almost like it once had—exasperated with me—and it was strangely comforting.

“My decade of therapy, trying to work through her abandonment, and my hurt and loneliness growing up in that house alone tell me that I do.” I clenched my teeth to steady my tongue, and when I could manage it, I continued. “It doesn’t matter. Mom’s not what this is about,” I said, reeling in all that I could of my emotions. I took a steadying breath. “Where have you been, Jenny? You say Kat saved you, but what the hell happened to you?” I eyed her up and down. It was like the vibrancy she once had was dulled—her hair, her eyes, even her firecracker personality that had gotten us into so much trouble as children.

“A lot,” she said easily. “And yet I do not remember half of it.”

I frowned, and sat further back into my chair, content to wait as long as necessary for a full explanation.

“You might hate our mother, but from what I remember, all of this is very much about her.” Jenny gestured between us. “When I left home, I went to find her. I do not recall why I did not tell you.”

Resentment simmered inside, but I held my tongue. Jenny’s decision to chase a ghost—Eleanor St. James, who left us when we were six years old with a monster of a stepfather—resulted in more abuse at home in her absence than Jenny could possibly know. Like always, I’d been the one punished for her rebellion, and like always, she never looked back. Just like our mother.

Jenny swallowed, her eyes not leaving mine. There was something in the way she looked at me, mystified and uncertain, that made me push all of that resentment aside and listen. “Well then.” I prompted her to continue.

“I only remember being in Juneau, and the scent of the sea in the air that was so comforting.” Jenny’s eyes glazed over, and she seemed to lose herself in a thought that confused her or made her sad. After a few long breaths, she frowned. “They are so fleeting . . . I never see the full memories.” The longing in her voice, probably the first real emotion, other than the way her face lit up infinitesimally when she saw Kat, made me suddenly sad for her.

“I saw our mother outside of a corporate building. I remember the crown symbol.” She touched the skin behind her ear. “King Laboratories,” she whispered. “I do not remember going there, or how I had found her, but I remember how I felt the moment I saw her. I remember my fear and confusion—that she did not remember me.”

“How can you remember that if you can’t remember anything else?” I asked, half distracted by Ross’s gruff voice outside as he came up the steps with Jackson. Ross didn’t trust Jenny or Kat. He’d done nothing but glare at them since they’d arrived back at the house.

“The memories come in dreams,” Jenny said. “I only have them sometimes, and I only see pieces, or perhaps I only remember pieces of them, but I feel them keenly when I do—everything about them.”

“Then what was Mom doing in Juneau?”

“Kat believes she was part of an experimental program.”

Kat nodded and glanced between us. “They called it the Fulfillment Study—one of many trial programs in the General’s Northern Pacific Division. I learned about it right before the outbreak, some of my superiors were talking about it—how those that had survived might thrive in the Great Transformation.” Kat paused, glancing from Jenny to me, as if she hesitated to continue. “The Fulfillment Study lured in people who suffered from codependency and depression, promising them self-discovery and the strength they needed to live fuller, healthier lives. But it was all a facade; the participants were test subjects, injected with early strains of the Virus to study its effects, Abilities specifically.”

“Like Woody?” Sophie’s voice was filled with a horrified awe.

Kat blinked at her and swallowed thickly. “I don’t know, but he was military so I would imagine his was more of a super solider experiment than what they were doing to Eleanor.”

That our mother had been taken under false pretenses as a test subject for the General’s antics seemed unlikely, and yet, even the possibility of it turned my stomach to lead. “And what, Dr. John sent her there to be experimented on?”

“Or she went, hoping she would be able to find the courage to leave him,” Kat added. Even if I hated to admit it, that made the most sense.

“What I do know,” Jenny continued, “is that based on the memories I do have, she was weak and she was desperate before she left.” While I half expected to see some play of emotion on Jenny’s face in breaking this impossible news to me, her expression was impassive, like the most human parts of her were numb. It was only then that I realized my sister was gone. She was somehow only a shell; and knowing that she wasn’t the person I remembered—she wasn’t my Jenny anymore, even if we never got along—was a wretched, unrecognizable feeling.

“You never did believe Mom just left us,” I told her, realizing I wasn’t all that surprised that she’d gone in search of her. “But you never said anything about leaving.” Anger crept in again. “I would’ve gone with you.”

“I am not sure why I did not tell you, but perhaps it is best that I never did. By the time I found her, she did not know who I was anymore. After I found her, they took me and everything changed.”

I could barely accept Jenny was sitting in front of me, let alone imagine what they’d done to her, yet a strange sense of relief washed over me. If what Jenny and Kat said was true, our mother hadn’t left us, or at least, she hadn’t intentionally disappeared. Coverups seemed a small feat when you had the means to destroy the entire world, and the General could have orchestrated whatever was needed to cover his tracks.

“Where is Mom now?” I croaked, my mind a jumble of disturbing possibilities.

Jenny clasped her hands in her lap as she measured her next words. “I do not know. I cannot remember what happened after I found her, even that is only a blip of a memory.”

“What do you remember?” Sophie asked with a hint of astonishment. It was one of a thousand questions I had as well.

“I remember the confusion on her face when I spoke to her, that she did not recognize me. I remember college, and studying for a molecular biology exam I did not care about, but studied because it was what I inherently knew I was supposed to do. I remember you, Elle, but that we were estranged and barely spoke, so I had little urgency to call you, except when I had my dreams. They were few and far between at first, but I always felt the need to speak with you after, even if it was just to hear your voice.”

My heart ached to hear her say that. We’d barely talked, Jenny was right about that. I thought she was too selfish to think about anyone but herself. And she was always very vague, like she had nothing much to say, even though she’d be the one to call me. And for so long I’d been angry with her because I was convinced she didn’t care.

Tears pricked the backs of my eyes again as I thought of my sister in another world, so bone-chillingly different than mine that I felt uncomfortable in my own skin. She’d lived in a veiled existence, and ignorant of it all, I’d hated her for it.

“I remember,” she started again, and I could tell she was reaching back even deeper as she tried to recall a life that she barely understood. “I remember receiving a call from the mayor of Whitely—”

Sophie drew in a sharp breath, and I glanced back at her crestfallen face. “My mom?”

Jenny continued without hearing her. “She told me she was impressed by my resume and application for the marine biologist internship I’d submitted through the University of Juneau’s extended education program. She told me the harbor was the perfect location to study.”

“She always wondered why the university had reached out to her,” Sophie said quietly. It was difficult to miss the longing in her voice, and the distance of her thoughts as they trailed back to Whitely.

The fact that her mom had played a strange, unwitting part in whatever came next in Jenny’s story sent chills down the backs of my arms, unsuppressed by the heat of my skin.

“My mom thought it was all of her petitioning to the state that made her stand out to Juneau. Expanding the education program had been one of her proudest achievements. But there was someone working for him and pulling the strings the whole time.” Sophie’s voice nearly broke. That her mother’s petitioning had garnered the wrong kind of attention went without saying.

“I do not remember applying for the internship,” Jenny admitted, “and I don’t remember why I was going to school—if it was something I wanted or, well, something I was told to do—but I accepted the offer because it was what Kat encouraged me to do.” They exchanged a long look of trepidation, and once their silent conversation ended, Jenny met my gaze again. “I was in Whitely to plant the Virus at the military’s bidding.”

My breath caught in my throat. “You what?”

“The General’s,” Kat clarified. “All of it was connected to him, even if none of our orders were from him directly.”

The deck creaked and I imagined Ross and Jackson stepping closer, listening as what Jenny and Kat knew began to fill in the missing pieces.

“There was a module,” Jenny continued, her eyes darting behind me, as if she had an entire audience now. “I did not know what it was, only that I was supposed to give the technicians access and ensure certain plans were set in motion. It had been the intention all along, though I did not realize it until I started getting sick. The fog in my mind diminished, probably because I was dying, and whatever control they had over me was weakening.”

“If my mom hadn’t drawn attention to Whitely,” Sophie said, her face horror stricken. “None of this would’ve happened.” She sat forward and dropped her face into her hands.

“It would’ve happened regardless,” Kat told her. “JJ was one cell of many, a means to an end in order to get the Virus to spread as quickly as possible. What better way to spread a world-ravaging virus than to set a contagion site on a busy tourist and trade port.”

But Kat’s words fell on deaf ears as Sophie sat with her elbows on her thighs, gripping her hair and holding onto her head like she was afraid she might explode if she let go. I knew better than to comfort her. Sophie needed space. Not touch. Not more overstimulation.

While part of me knew I should be thankful Jenny was here, her presence changed everything—all of our carefully mended lives were unraveling once more . . . because of her.

“And you, Kat,” I said. “You know so much about the General’s plans and experiments. You seem to be the key to all of this, always whispering in Jenny’s ear. Feeding information to Woody all these months.” It was more of an accusation than an observation. “Who are you, exactly? How can you sit there and talk about all of this like it’s simply another day, like you aren’t the center of—”

“It is not so black and white,” Jenny interjected. She cupped Kat’s hand in hers again.

Unlike Jenny, whose expression was lacking, exhaustion and what looked like regret flashed in Kat’s eyes, and she took a deep breath. “Herodson had many projects,” she started. “One of them were his Monitors—pawns put in place to keep an eye on other pawns. Just like JJ was compelled to implement an arm of his plan, I was compelled to ensure she did it, and if she strayed from her mission, it was my job to remedy it.”

“What’s that mean, exactly?” I asked.

“Kill her,” Sophie said, her eyes were glazed over as she stared at nothing. “It’s why you encouraged her to go to Whitely, because you had to. But when she was dying you couldn’t handle it because you fell in love with her. That’s why you saved her. That’s why, when you saw Elle, I could feel your admiration and love for her—for JJ”

Kat swallowed thickly. “Yes.”

“I thought you were a medic, but you were in the apartment building to get her out before it was too late.”

It was all so far-fetched and impossible, and yet it rang true. Civilization was gone because of countless, strategically moving parts. Someone had been playing God with all of our lives.

Sophie stood up and walked over to the sliding glass door, where Ross and Jackson stood on the other side, leaning against the house and railing, listening with the same disquieted looks on their faces that I felt.

“If you were compelled to see the mission through to the end, how could you have saved JJ?” Sophie asked.

Kat blinked at Sophie, then at me. “I don’t know how it’s possible,” she admitted. “Only that my feelings felt so strong, I simply had to.”

“But I’ve never seen you at Whitely, except for that day,” Sophie said.

“I was at Joint Base Elmendorf–Richardson in Anchorage when I heard rumors of the moles, or Monitors, being terminated after mission completion. The instant I heard Whitely was on the list, I knew I couldn’t let JJ die, and if I stayed, I might’ve been next. I left to get her immediately, but I was almost too late,” she breathed.

The dozens of questions looping through my mind made it difficult to digest fully any of what they were saying, but there was one question that blared the loudest.

“If Kat’s a Monitor,” I realized, looking at Jenny, “then what are you? Why can’t you remember anything?” Unlike Kat, whose mind had been controlled and manipulated to carry out specific duties, Jenny looked and acted completely different, and barely remembered who she was.

My sister licked her lips, her gaze unwavering from mine. “I do not know.” The four words together had never sounded so despondent, and hearing the uncertainty in her voice made my heart hurt with sudden sadness.

“Kat,” Sophie whispered, and the stillness of her voice sent another wave of chills down my spine. “How did you save JJ, exactly?”

“I administered the antidote too late, so I resorted to other means.”

“Electrotherapy,” Sophie said, and I gasped. I knew how the General made his Re-gens, Sophie had made sure we knew all that we’d be up against if the General resurfaced.

“I was desperate,” Kat explained.

For the first time since meeting her, I felt something for Kat, an endearment perhaps, and a strange sense of gratitude.

“As I told you,” Jenny continued. “I am not sure what I am, or what has been done to me, before the Virus at least. I just know that the more I remember, the more I have felt the need to find you. I remembered your message, Elle. You said you were coming and I told you not to.”

That day had replayed in my head thousands of times, always resulting in guilt that I hadn’t gotten there sooner.

“When we learned General Herodson was dead, we went back. Kat took me to my apartment and I saw some of your things.”

Kat and Jenny looked at Sophie. “We found the note you left for your father, and we made our way to Hartley Bay. It took us a couple months, but it didn’t matter because none of you were there.”

Every word felt like a hundred-pound weight on my chest, and every sentence was like an uncovered truth. Jenny wasn’t just a runaway; she’d been part of an experiment.

She’d been dead, Sophie saw her die, but now she was alive.

My sister was sitting across from me, no longer Jenny but JJ, a woman who spoke and looked different. A woman who barely remembered me, yet held so many missing pieces to my past.

I stood and shook my head. “I . . . need a moment.” I could feel everyone’s eyes on me as I left the room, but all I could think of was air. I just needed some air.

37

Elle

I stood at the water’s edge, staring out at the churning rapids as they sailed past me. I thought about the Yukon River’s winding journey to the Bering Sea.

Whatever Jenny had been through was like the river, and her journey spanned rougher, more perilous terrain than I could possibly know. Each twist and turn was etched in the lines of her face, but it was the magnitude of my feelings over the past year that felt the heaviest.

I thought about my life, growing up in a home with a false father, an absent mother, and a selfish sister. What had been years of hurt had turned to sorrow in that single day I thought Jenny was dead, followed by months of the deepest, most aching kind of regret. Now my sister was here, alive and breathing, with a secret past I knew nothing about, and she felt like a complete stranger.

Steady footsteps crunched in the rocks behind me, and I felt the tension in my shoulders ease a little.

“I don’t know why, but I want to be angry with her,” I said as Jackson stopped beside me. “But how can I be angry with someone who doesn’t even remember who they are?” He wrapped his arms around my waist and hugged me against him.

“You can’t.” His voice was soft in my ear. “You can only try to understand.”

I strangled out a laugh. “It’s all so unbelievable.”

“Isn’t everything now?” Jackson kissed my jaw, and his arms tightened around me. “Would you rather she never came, so that you thought she was still dead?”

“No,” I said quickly, so easily I surprised myself, and as I watched the water coursing by, I knew in my heart that I was pleased she had come.

Jackson rested his cheek against the side of my head. “You’ve been given a second chance with your sister, Elle. I think you should cherish it.”

Craning my neck, I looked up into his bronze and green-flecked eyes, bright in the sunlight, and full of love and conviction. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been sitting in the living room with her, but it felt like days had passed in the span of mere hours as each impossible truth settled in.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed.

Jackson’s brow etched with confusion. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because everyone’s wished for this—a second chance with the ones we loved,” I said, watching the pain flicker in the depths of his eyes. He was settled here with me, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still long for his wife, or the child he never got to have. Sophie had come to terms with living here with us, but she would’ve given anything for more time with her mother. I thought of Ross and Kelsey, and Thea and Beau’s parents. “It feels wrong that I’m the only person to get one.”

“Don’t do that to yourself, Elle.” His voice was earnest. “Don’t go down that path. Be confused and happy and pissed off if you want to, but don’t be regretful. You’re no less deserving of this than any of us would be. No one would ever hold that against you.”

My mouth pulled up into a tiny, grateful smile, and my eyes filled with tears. “It’s like I don’t even know her,” I breathed.

Jackson’s palm cupped the side of my face, and his thumb brushed a tear from beneath my eye. It was so warm and tingled against my skin; it sparked the numb parts of me to life again.

“You’ve both changed. It’s going to take time to get to know one another again. You just have to be patient.”

I rested my face against his chest, listening to the steady thud of his heartbeat. “How can you be so calm about this? You heard her; you know what they’ve been a part of—what they’ve done.”

Jackson’s heart beat against my ear—a methodic, soothing melody. “Because if there’s one thing I’ve come to terms with in the past year, it’s that we can’t change the past. We have to accept the way things are, and decide how we’re going to make the best of it.” He leaned back and peered down at me. “You taught me that. And we know they’re telling the truth, at least as much as they know. So, there’s only one thing left to do.”

“What’s that?”

Jackson brushed a wayward strand of hair clinging to my wet cheeks, and forced a reassuring smile across his lips. “Keep moving forward.”

With a nod, I rested my ear against his heart again. Bah-bum. Bah-bum. Bah-bum. Since the day I’d met him, Jackson had been my pillar of strength, my light along a dark path that made the journey less frightening. And even if I didn’t know my sister anymore, I knew Jackson was right. It would take patience and time, but she was here for a reason; she was giving me what I’d wanted the day I thought she was gone forever. I had to trust that everything would work its way out, like it always seemed to in one way or another.

More footsteps approached, lighter this time and hesitant. “Pardon me.” It was Jenny’s stilted voice.

Jackson’s breath was warm on my ear. “I’ll be right on the deck, if you need anything,” he whispered. And his protective arms unwrapped from around me.

I gazed into his eyes with a silent thank you and a weak smile. As he walked away, I looked at Jenny, still astonished and wondering if I’d ever get used to her smoky-green eyes.

“He’s like a panther,” she said with a hint of amusement, and she came to stand at the water’s edge a couple feet from me.

“How so?” I rubbed the backs of my arms. I eyed Jenny’s attire—her white t-shirt brushed with dirt, like mine, and her brown cargo pants with more holes than my black ones.

“He is very protective.”

“Ha. Can you blame him?”

Jenny blinked, thoughtful, then shook her head. “But you do not have to fear me.” It almost sounded like a plea.

“I—” I licked my lips. “I don’t fear you, Jenny. Or, should I call you JJ now?” I shook my head with an errant laugh and rubbed my temple.

“Whatever makes you comfortable,” she said quietly. “Though I think I prefer Jenny for some reason.”

I glanced at her, unexpectedly relieved.

“And yes, you do,” she said easily.

I looked at her. “What?”

“You do fear me. I have returned from the dead in your eyes, and even as you try to understand what I have told you, you have too many questions I cannot answer. It troubles you.”

“Is that your Ability?” I asked. “To know what I’m feeling?”

Jenny watched the water bubble and trickle past. “No.” She shook her head. “But I imagine we think much the same, even if we are very different now. I have been frightened and confused all this time, it makes sense that you would be too.”

“We’ve always been different,” I told her. “We’ve never been close, not like I’d always wanted us to be.”

“But you still came for me in Whitely.”

I glanced at her to find her eyes on me, though I couldn’t detect her emotions. Was she thankful? Confused? Indifferent? “I did.”

“I am sorry I was not there.”

Her eyes were vacant in a way I couldn’t understand, and yet somehow, I could still see the sympathy she had for me and hear it in the broken rhythm of her voice—a slight inflection, less monotone than the rest, when she looked at me.

“Why are you here now, Jenny? Especially if you don’t really remember me. Why go to all this trouble to find me?”

She squinted into the sun glaring on the water’s surface. “I have asked myself the same question since Kat brought me back to life.”

My breath caught in my throat as she said the words. Dead or alive, she stood beside me, breathing.

“The only thing I know for certain is over the years, in all that I have done, I have felt alone, like something was missing.”

“Even with Kat by your side?”

Jenny looked at me. “Yes. Perhaps it is a twin connection, or a part of my mind that refused to be silent, but every time I dreamt of you, I was left wanting more than what I had had, even if I couldn’t understand it. I would leave little clues for myself sometimes, notes about a woman who looked like me, with sad eyes and a passion for life always squelched. I left clues that made little sense until a new memory would surface in a dream.”

“The riddle,” I realized, remembering the piece of paper she’d mailed to me.

“Riddle?”

“The one I called you about. You told me to never throw the page away, not until I figured it out—you made me promise. The sound of silence will set you free. In the silence there I’ll be.”

For the briefest of moments, I thought Jenny would explain what it meant, but as her brow pinched almost imperceptibly, I realized she didn’t remember it. She didn’t remember the riddle at all. “It had to mean something to you at the time,” I told her, trying not to be frustrated. That riddle had circled my mind incessantly for weeks after she’d died, the curiousness of it never to be answered. And now, with Jenny brought back from the dead, I still wouldn’t know.

“I am sorry. I wish I could remember for you. Perhaps I will, with time.”

I nodded, but didn’t bother to hide the disappointment on my face.

“I know it is not what you want to hear.”

I sighed, an exaggerated, brittle sound. “I can’t have everything I want,” I said wryly. “And I doubt having only half a memory is what you’d wish for, either. Though, you seem to remember Kat well enough,” I mused.

Jenny turned, partially facing me as a strand of her long hair drifted over her face, caught in the breeze. “Not at first,” she admitted. “I had no idea who she was, and it nearly broke Kat’s heart.” Her gaze shifted over my face as she contemplated something. This Jenny wasn’t at all rash or thoughtless; she was careful and reliably pensive. “I know my being here is hard for you, especially knowing now how altered I am—seeing you has shown me what I should look like. And perhaps it was selfish of me to come, but I do wish to know you, Elle. If you will let me.” Though her voice held little emotion, her gaze was imploring.

“Of course I want to know you,” I said as my heart squeezed at the thought of sending her away. I reached for Jenny without thinking and wrapped my arms around her shoulders, feeling the tension in my body ease a little bit more against her warmth; a reassurance that despite what happened to her, she was very much alive.

Jenny, never one for mushy sentiment, slowly brought her arms around me, wrapping me into a hug. “I do not know what I am, Elle,” she whispered, and instantly tears burned the brims of my eyes. It was despondency I detected, or perhaps a warning, and all those nights I lay in bed, frightened of what I’d become as the fire simmered in my blood came roaring back to the surface.

“It doesn’t matter,” I told her, and it was true. “The General is gone. Whatever he did to all of us is done, but we have our whole lives to figure out the rest.”

Jenny’s brow crumpled and she pulled away. “Elle—” She stopped short and tucked her hair behind her ears.

“What is it?”

“I . . . ” Jenny frowned, tilting her head with a final thought, then said, “I wasn’t supposed to survive the Virus, and I wouldn’t have without Kat’s help.” She watched as my openness faded. “Will you give her a chance as well?”

I had a feeling Kat knew more than she was letting on, but I wasn’t sure if it was anything I needed to know at this point. Kat would do anything for Jenny, even bring her back from the dead, and that was enough reason for me.

“Yes, we will,” I promised. There was little else I could take though. “Now, come on. You’re probably exhausted.” I pointed toward the cabins. “I can show you to a room so you and Kat can rest.”

Jenny’s eyes met mine, and a tight-lipped smile lifted her cheeks. “Thank you.”

I took Jenny’s hand in mine and squeezed it. “Come on then.” I turned for the path back to the house. After a few steps, it dawned on me that I hadn’t asked a very important question. “How long will you stay here?” I glanced over my shoulder, my pulse quickening as I considered she could leave as quickly as she appeared.

“I—do not know,” she admitted, walking a few steps behind me. “I did not think—” She paused, but her eyes lingered on me. “How long would you like me to stay?” The old Jenny would tell me what was going to happen, not dance around the maybes and who knows. But this wasn’t old Jenny, just like I wasn’t old Elle, and that made it easier to accept the drastic changes between us.

As we made our way up the path and onto the property, I made my decision. “We can take it one day at a—”

“—and I don’t trust you.” Ross’s clipped words met my ears. He stood a few feet from Kat at the base of the deck steps, glaring at her.

“What’s going on?” I said, hurrying over to them.

Kat’s bored gaze shifted to me, and then Jenny. Ross’s eyes, however, remained sharp as knives and fixed on Kat.

“Ross?” I hedged.

“He doesn’t trust us,” Kat answered for him. “He thinks we’re here on Herodson’s behalf.”

“Are you?”

My eyes flicked up to the deck where Jackson stood, staring down at us. His eyes narrowed on Kat and then on Jenny. “Well?”

“Jackson—”

“Elle, let them answer,” he said.

I bit my tongue in frustration. The last thing I wanted was for Jenny to feel unwelcome and leave after everything we’d just been through.

“No,” Kat said tersely. “We’re not here on his behalf, because he’s dead. You already know that.” She met Ross’s glare, scowl against scowl.

“That sadistic son of a bitch spent a lifetime turning the world inside out,” Ross bit out.

“Yeah?” Kat took a step closer to him. “What’s that got to do with me?” She was all hard lines and taut muscles, just as Ross was.

“Just because he’s dead, doesn’t mean everything he stood for ended with him.”

“We never willingly worked for that man,” Jenny reminded him, her voice was flat, but not unfeeling. It was more of an explanation.

“Ross,” I said, taking a step closer. I glared at Jackson to step in.

“What? It’s a valid question,” Ross rebuked. “You decimated an entire town!” he shouted. Jenny stood in front of him, absorbing his anger, while Ross’s face grew redder with each word. “You’re responsible for killing hundreds of people—her mother!” he shouted, pointing up to Sophie as she stepped out onto the deck beside Jackson.

“Ross! That’s enough,” I told him. I didn’t want to hear his words. Even if they were true, they weren’t true. “We were all pawns in this.”

“I wasn’t,” he growled. “Yet here I am, picking up all the leftover pieces—all of that pain and suffering that you helped cause.” He pointed a furious finger at each of them. “I get to feel that, not you. She has to feel that—” Again, he pointed to Sophie.

Kat took an angry step toward him. “Trust me, I wouldn’t be here if—”

“Kat,” Jenny warned.

Kat glared at her.

“More secrets,” Ross practically snarled. “Of course.”

“There are no secrets,” Jenny promised. “But it took all we have left to get here, to find Elle. You can be sure of that.”

I thought Kat’s eyes might shoot lasers through Ross’s skull as she continued to stare at him, unblinking. “We’re not here to carry out leftover plans,” she said, her face reddening. “He took everything away from us, too. Our minds—our choices!”

Alex came out of the barn with Thea and Beau, as Jackson made his way down the steps. Five sets of eyes were wide and watching.

“I believe them,” Jackson said softly. “I don’t think they’re a threat to us.” He reached for Ross’s shoulder. “Let’s go get the horse from town. We’ll get some air—”

Ross shrugged Jackson’s hand off and glanced between Jenny and Kat. “All the sorries in the world won’t change what you did,” he told them, and he marched away, the heat of his rage left in his wake.

Jackson eyed Jenny and me, then followed after his best friend.

I let out a deep exhale, and closed my eyes as I gathered myself. While I understood where Ross’s anger stemmed from, I knew it wasn’t as simple as placing the blame on Jenny and Kat.

“I am sorry.” Jenny’s apology was barely a breath. “Our presence has upset your home—”

“I told you this would be a bad idea,” Kat ground out. And turning on her heels, she marched off in the opposite direction.

Jenny looked at me, both of us apologetic. Whatever the future held for all of us, it wasn’t going to be easy.

38

Sophie

I sat in the barn with Lady; her only surviving baby, adorably bucktoothed Wiggle Bottom; and proud papa, Short Stuff. The sun had finally dipped below the mountains, and it was late, so the house was probably quiet by now. Kat and JJ had retreated to one of the cabins, and Elle and Jackson went inside with the kids. I wasn’t ready to go in yet though.

Puck and Beauty, Kat and JJ’s four-legged additions to our farm, were restless outside in their new temporary home, and I didn’t blame them. The air buzzed with unrest, and the animals knew it. Except for little Wiggle Bottom. He wobbled a little, his long black legs still new.

It was the type of night that was hard to be alone, and as exhausted as I was, silence in the barn with the goats was better than silence alone in my room, overwrought and thinking too much. Thoughts of my mom were too close to the surface, and the last thing I wanted was to have unsettling memory-dreams about her too.

Wiggle Bottom trundled over to me—getting the last of his energy and excitement out with a final bounce, before he toppled over and curled up beside me in his new pen, courtesy of Alex.

He’d been on my mind a lot too. A part of me wanted to confide in Alex, and tell him how shitty it felt to know horrible things you couldn’t ever change. Another part of me just wanted him to sit beside me in silence, as a friend without anything else getting in the way, so that I didn’t feel so alone. Alex used to know when I needed him the most, he had a knack for checking on me right when I was about to lose hope, and he had a way of making me feel like everything would be okay. I missed that about us. I missed him.

“Maybe he’ll surprise me,” I told Wiggle Bottom. Resting my head against the wall, I stared up at the bare spruce rafters and the soft glow of the string lights as the moths fluttered around them. I liked that the animals couldn’t talk or judge me. They couldn’t pry, and I didn’t have to worry about what they were thinking—about inadvertently touching them or wondering whether they were telling truths or lies.

It wasn’t long before Wiggle Bottom’s curious licking of my pants turned into nibbling on them, which randomly brought a smile to my face. I could see why my mom liked animals so much; they liked you regardless of your size, gender, or mutant Abilities.

One of the horses whinnied outside in the pasture, and the barn door shimmied in the hinges and the rollers screeched open. I smiled at Wiggle Bottom, hopeful we’d have Alex as our midnight companion, but when I looked up, it was Phil standing in the dark doorway. The string lights barely lit his face.

“Oh—Phil, hey.”

“Hey, Soph,” he said, stepping fully into the light. For the first time, Phil’s expression wasn’t open and his grin didn’t stretch from ear to ear, in fact, he looked reticent and uncomfortable.

He wore jeans and street clothes instead of tactical gear, which wasn’t like him either.

“I thought you were in Whitehorse. What are you doing here—is everything okay?” I felt a sudden flare of panic.

“With me? Yeah.” He shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “I came to check on you.”

“Me?” That was unexpected. “Why?”

“Ross showed up at the prison, and he mentioned what happened. I wanted to make sure you were okay after hearing . . . you know, about your mom.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t expected that either, but I’m not entirely certain why. Phil was my friend—he was a good friend, and my heart brimmed with fullness that he’d come. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, I did.” Phil unzipped his hoodie and slid down the wall to sit beside me. He smelled clean, like he’d come fresh from the shower, and I imagined he might’ve been getting ready for bed when he’d decided to come.

“I was going to sit up all night wondering if you were okay, so I took the chance you might be up. I’m just glad I found you in here because of the lights, otherwise I would’ve felt like a creeper lurking outside, staring up at your window, or waking everyone up by knocking on the door.”

Imagining Phil actually knocking on the front door was amusing enough since we never used it, but him pacing and uncertain, worried what it might look like, made me smile, and I was glad he’d come. “You’re a good friend, Phil, thank you.”

His hair flopped over his forehead as he looked at me. “Is that what we are?” he asked softly. “Friends?”

My eyes darted to his.

“Because”—he fiddled with a piece of straw, his arms draped over his knees—“sometimes I think that’s all I’ll ever be to you. Other times, I’m not convinced.”

My tongue felt heavy, and my heart raced as I thought about how close we’d become, and the tricks my mind was beginning to play on me. Do I like Phil? It seemed like the answer should be simple and obvious, but despite every dream and each kindness he’d shown me, I was reluctant.

“You don’t have to answer that, sorry.” He shook his head, like he was silently scolding himself. “That’s not why I came here.” Finally, his eyes met mine, then they trailed the lines of my face, fully taking the sight of me in. “Are you—okay?” The sincerity in his eyes twinkled, and the softness of his voice lured me to him, so comforting, like a soft, snuggly blanket I wanted to wrap around myself.

I rested my head on Phil’s shoulder and nestled a little closer to him. “Yes, I’ll survive.”

“That’s not exactly what I asked you,” he said, and his warm breath caressed the top of my head as he rested his cheek against me.

Letting my eyes close in the glow of his presence, I took a deep breath and exhaled the last of my composure. “It just makes me sad for her,” I confessed, and my heart squeezed at the thought of the horrible truths shadowing my mom’s proudest moments. “She worked so hard to bring Whitely into the twenty-first century, and make it a city for everyone to be proud of. And everything she’d accomplished—the extended education program she’d brokered with the State of Alaska, the Whitely Port Marine Wildlife Protection Proclamation, even her quick climb to mayor—was all a lie and a means to an end?” Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. “Everything’s tainted now,” I squeaked out. “You know?”

Phil wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into him. I reveled in the heat and firmness of his body against mine. I’d grown used to keeping my Ability on lockdown whenever possible, but I didn’t feel like I had to with Phil—I never did. For once, I wanted to feel something other than weary and lost, and with a single thought, a constantly-wound coil in my mind loosened, and I opened myself up to feel him.

If Alex felt like an uncontrollable, overwhelming spark of attraction that enlivened every nerve ending when we touched, Phil was a soothing salve on an aching wound. Even lost in his own confusion about all we’d learned today, and trying to harness his own bitterness and disbelief, he was thinking and worried about me. He wanted me. It felt so good and so simple, and I lifted my head to look at him.

“What?” he breathed, but I thought he might be able to feel what I was thinking. I wasn’t trying to hide it. Alex wasn’t here and Phil was—Phil always was—and I knew if I was ever going to really move on, I needed to let Alex go.

Leaning in, I pressed my mouth to Phil’s, taking in every sensation and wanting to feel every second. I needed to know what it felt like; I needed to feel it. The slight pressure of his lips. The burn of his palm against my cheek. His affection for me and his self-doubt. His relief and excitement. He was everything every college girl used to dream about—what I’d dreamed about—and yet . . .

Slowly, I leaned away from him, as relieved as I was frustrated that I hadn’t felt that flare of abandon. I didn’t feel the spark.

Phil dropped his hand from my cheek, and his eyebrows drew together as he cleared his throat. “I know it’s not the same,” he said quietly. “But thank you.”

I blinked at him, moistening my lips. “For what?”

A sad sort of smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “For trying.” I began to ask him what he meant, but I owed him more than that. There were no pretenses between us, and as much as it broke my heart to see a sad resolve on his face, what we felt was out in the open.

“Things could change,” I told him, hopeful. I wanted it to change; I needed it all to make sense—my dreams, the truth about Whitely and my mom, what was real and what was all in my head . . . And Phil, with me right now, made sense.

He tilted his head and a forced smile fell into place. “I like you, Sophie, obviously, but I don’t want you to have to work at liking me back. I’ve got too much pride for that.” He smirked, but it wasn’t real, and everything about him in that moment warmed and broke my heart.

I wrapped my arms around him. “Thank you for being so good to me,” I whispered, and I squeezed him tighter. I wasn’t sure if it was exhaustion or overstimulation, but tears filled my eyes as I clung to him. I wanted Phil to know how much I loved him, and that whatever happened, he was my friend, and I would always be here for him the way he was for me.

In that silent movement, as my mind tried to understand, I could feel Phil’s hope fading, but not to nothing, to a peacefulness he hadn’t had before. Now he knew what we were. Now we both did, even if it still felt unfinished in some way.

“All right, Cinderella,” he said more lightly this time. “I should let you get some sleep, and get Ross’s truck back to him before he wakes up and thinks Woody’s playing some practical joke on him and all hell breaks loose.”

I closed my eyes, squeezing my arms around him a final time in silent thanks, and smiled. This was a good thing—Phil and I were only friends. I knew that now. “Okay.” Though for me, sleep was more of a wish than a reality.

Letting Phil go, I gave sleeping Wiggle Bottom a gentle pet, and rose to my feet. “I’ll walk you to the truck.”

Phil stepped through the barn door, still cracked open, and I unplugged the string lights, glancing back at the goats, safe and zonked out for the night, and shut them inside.

As Phil and I headed up the hill for the truck, I heard a creak in the still night air and glanced toward the house. My stomach knotted as Alex made his way up the deck steps and disappeared through the sliding glass door. He’d seen Phil and me, I felt it in every coiled muscle in my body.

39

Sophie

My chest heaved and my muscles strained with fatigue as I lifted one arm to block Phil’s advancement, immediately stepping back and blocking his other arm as it swung up to grab hold of me.

The sparring area was vast and empty, the air light around me. Each kick accompanied a battle cry. Each time I blocked one of his movements, I did so with a growl. It was our same routine as always.

Phil blocked my palm, heel, and elbow strikes, and his eyes glistened with amusement. He was a male force that made him impossible to ignore—those strong arms, his rich brown eyes that looked at me like I was his secret. Like I was his without him having to breathe a word. How had I never noticed how perfect he was, until now?

Palm open, I hooked my arm back and went for his ear, almost clubbing him, before he caught me by the wrist and shook his head with a smirk. “A little violent today, aren’t we?”

What if I kissed his smirking mouth instead of ignoring it this time? “You told me not to hold back,” I reminded him with pride.

When I realized I was staring at him shamelessly, I forced myself to snap out of it. This wasn’t about Phil; this session was about me. Training. Being stronger. I had to remind myself.

Gritting my teeth together, I lifted my leg and spun, all the while wondering what his lips would taste like against mine. The thought was distracting and unwanted, and I tried to push it away, but halfway through a roundhouse kick, Phil’s arm went up to block it, and pain shot through my leg and ankle. “Ah—”

“Shit—Sophie, are you okay?” Phil grabbed hold of my forearm to catch me as I stumbled back. His eyes searched my face with a fearsome worry, and I nearly melted in the tenderness of his gaze. His grip was firm, and the heat of desire blossomed on my cheeks. It was his proximity and the concern in his voice that had my heart soaring, and the pain faded away.

“I’m fine,” I rasped, peering up at him. His lips were parted; his chest heaved, and it was all I could do to keep my hand from splaying over his chest. I wanted to feel his heart beating, to know he was real. More than that, I wanted to make him mine. For real and forever.

Leaning in, with all reserve abandoned, I pressed my lips to his, needing him to know that I wasn’t confused anymore. He was the one I wanted. He was the only one I wanted. Not Alex. Never Alex again.

“I love you,” he breathed. “You know that, right?”

Did I know that? He brushed a strand of hair from my face. Phil loved me? The thought felt foggy and distant as he pressed a soft kiss against my lips, urgent but gentle, and I let him.

“Tell me you love me too,” he said. But in that moment, there was a flash of dark hair and a woman’s face in my mind’s eye, though she was gone as quickly as she appeared.

“Sophie? Did you hear me? I said I love you—”

Slowly, I forced my eyes open, wanting to wake up despite the exhaustion weighing on my mind. It felt too full and too heavy, and as I tried to open my eyes, willing myself to wake up, I knew I was fighting a losing battle.

The soft glow of the barn lights filled the space around us, as we sat against the wall, Phil’s arms wrapped tightly around me. I felt at ease with him, the way I always did, but there was a nervousness I’d never felt before. A desperate wanting and fear he might not want me.

I peered up at him, remotely knowing that we were just friends, we’d always just be friends, but pushing the thought away as soon as it came.

“Phil,” I breathed, grasping for the nerve to say what I’d wanted to for so, so long.

He peered down at me with that killer smile I’d come to rely on seeing each and every day, the smile I could never live without again. “I’ll never love anyone else,” I whispered.

The moment I uttered the words, I pulled out of his grasp. “No.” I said, because that wasn’t true—that wasn’t how it went.

“No?” He glared at me.

“I mean,” I scrambled to find any words at all. “Alex,” was the only word I could think to say.

“Alex?” Phil snapped and jerked away. “Stop worrying about Alex, Sophie. God—” he pushed his hands through his hair. “I’m so tired of Alex. Just forget about him already, and be here with me.”

“I’m sorry,” I told him, but truly, I wanted to shout at him. I wanted to scream that I didn’t want any of this. I wanted to forget about all of it.

“No—Christ, I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I just, I love you, Nora. Why can’t you just forget about him and be with me?” His mouth crushed against mine, with more force and desperation than before. And as I sank into a giddy, happy fog of contentment, I felt everything else slipping further and further away.

Alex.

Me.

My memory.

Until all I could think was Phil and Nora.

When I opened my eyes, I was in the fetal position under my covers, my mind a misty mess, but I was safe in my bed. More dreams. More twisted memories that were only part reality. Still a lingering desire for Phil—a Phil that didn’t exist.

Why was I still dreaming about him? I’d learned what I’d needed to, I felt the lackluster connection between us, so why was he still on my mind? And who was Nora?

Last night when Phil and I had kissed, I’d opened myself up to him, and he to me. Was she a part of his past I couldn’t remember? Was I somehow remembering two memories combined as one, his and mine? As much as my mind had been evolving over the past year, it wasn’t entirely surprising that at some point I would meld things into my own stories. But why Phil? I felt closest to him in so many ways, but still . . .

Feeling the swirling tendrils of exhaustion and hysteria creeping in, I rested my hand over my eyes and drew in a deep breath. Get. Your. Shit. Together. Sophie. I needed a hot shower—or a cold one. A very long one.

40

Elle

“It is food?” Jenny asked, staring into the compost.

“It was, once. But it’s been turned and decomposing for months. Now it’s rich soil for the plants.”

Since Ross was at the hydro plant, keeping a big breadth between him and our visitors, and Kat was at the prison for the day with Woody, I had time alone with my sister.

“What are the others doing today?” she asked, glancing around at the vegetation that hung from beams and lined shelves throughout the space.

“Sophie, Alex, and the kids are helping Jackson finish the fish wheel, so I wanted to show you one of my favorite places on the property. The greenhouse.” I wanted Jenny to see what it was like to live out here, in case Whitehorse was a place she might decide to stay.

Turning to the shelves that lined the wall above the sink tub, I pulled a pair of gardening gloves out of the basket and grabbed a trowel. To my surprise, when I turned back around, Jenny already cupped the moist earth in her hand.

“I like the way it feels,” she said, watching the way the soil fell between her fingers. I hadn’t stopped to think about how abnormal Jenny’s life had been, especially with infinite holes in her memory. There were so many things the rest of us took for granted that were new to her. With what fleeting memories she had, did she remember what her favorite foods and scents used to be or what they tasted and smelled like? Or that she was allergic to gluten? Was she still allergic to gluten?

“You’ve never gardened before?” I asked. “At least, not that you remember?”

Jenny shook her head. “I do have a memory of being in a grocery store once—the rainbow of colors lining the cold aisles. I have chills thinking about it. And I remember my hands getting wet with mist.”

I smiled. “That was my favorite part when I was little.”

Jenny’s gray-green gaze met mine, and the corner of her mouth lifted, though I knew she couldn’t remember running through the aisle with me as a child. I pushed an empty pot toward her and she crouched down to empty her hands.

“I put some of those rocks in the bottom,” I told her, pointing to the wheelbarrow outside. “It helps with drainage.”

Jenny rose to her feet and walked over to the door, staring into the bin. “How many?”

“Three or four. The size of your palm would be good.”

She bent over and sorted through the rocks, choosing three stones before she came back into the greenhouse. Out of the mossy greens and earthy browns, all three of the rocks Jenny held were the same gray hue. An idiosyncrasy, I realized. She wanted them to match, which I found intriguing. Then she placed them in the bottom of the empty pot.

“Make sure they sort of rest on one another, creating a filter, like this,” I said and crouched down beside her. “We want the roots to grow around them so the water can still get through.”

Jenny watched as I situated the rocks, like it was the most intriguing thing she’d seen.

“There, now you can fill it halfway with dirt.”

I stepped away and watched as she dug her hands into the soil and began to fill the ceramic pot. “What are we planting?”

“You’re repotting that sapling right there, since it’s getting too large for that pot. And I’m harvesting the potatoes, so we can have some with dinner tonight.”

Picking up the trowel, I began to dig up the potatoes in the vegetable trough, carefully feeling with my hands for the roots.

“You like to garden then?” Jenny said, more of an observation than a question.

“I prefer it to cooking,” I admitted. “Though I still have a lot to learn, on both fronts.”

“Did we like to garden when we were children?”

I laughed, but not because Jenny’s question was funny. “No, that wasn’t something we ever did together.”

“What did we do together?”

Even if I understood why, the fact that Jenny couldn’t remember anything about our lives was still hard to comprehend. I’d hated our childhood and wanted to forget it for years, and yet now, seeing what that would be like, I wasn’t so sure. “Uh, Dr. John took us on trips sometimes,” I told her. “But when we were home, I liked photography, and you liked loud music and soap operas.”

“Soap operas?”

“Yeah, television dramas. You got that from Mom, I think.” I picked the potatoes out one by one and placed them in the basket.

“And what of our father, Dr. John—”

“He wasn’t our father. Not our real one,” I said.

Jenny looked at me, a bit startled and confused. “Oh.”

I didn’t need to rehash the particulars with her, since she’d been lucky enough to forget them. “It’s good you don’t remember him, Jenny,” I reassured her. “He wasn’t a good man.”

Her brow furrowed and she swallowed, glancing away from me, back to her pot that was nearly full. “And I left you with him, alone.”

I dropped the last of the potatoes into the basket and dusted off my hands. “None of that matters now,” I reassured her. “It’s all forgotten.” It wasn’t a lie either. I rarely thought of John or my life before—the dreams I’d suffered from and the sleep paralysis were rare. I had Jackson’s protective ferocity and my fire to thank for that, because they both gave me peace; they both made me feel safe.

“I know we were not close,” she said.

I set the basket by the door. “Is it that obvious?”

“No, I just . . . know.”

I crouched down beside her. “Then, Jenny, why did you come?” If she didn’t remember me and if she knew we weren’t close, what difference did it make to her if I knew she was alive or if I continued to think she was dead? “You say it was your dreams of me, but is that all it is, curiosity?”

I thought she might be too infatuated with the soil between her fingers to answer, but after a moment she dusted off her hands and looked at me. “I came because I do not recognize anything. It might sound strange, but it is difficult enough to be with someone I am supposed to love, but barely remember, and I wanted to find someone more . . . familiar.”

“Does Kat know you don’t remember her?”

A sad smile curved Jenny’s lips and she glanced out the window, at the cloud-speckled sky and rustling trees. “I believe she does.”

“Is that why you left her behind? You don’t want to be with her?”

“No,” she said softly. Her gaze shifted away, eyeing the pots and windows that lined three walls of the greenhouse. The structure was nearly the size of the barn, with stalks and leaves; an array of greens growing up around the walls, on lattice and poles. It was like I was seeing it for the first time through her eyes, a verdant menagerie of new life and whimsy.

“This place looks magical,” she mused. “I do remember the story of Sleeping Beauty. Did I like that when I was younger?”

To that I could smile. “Yes, you did. It was your favorite fairy tale.” That seemed to provide Jenny with a sense of peace, and her eyes smiled. But she hadn’t answered my question, and I wanted to know why, having no memories or sense of self or place, she would come all this way without her companion. “Jenny,” I prompted. “Why did you leave without Kat after she’s brought you so far and you’ve been through so much together?”

Pursing her lips, she looked at me. “She thinks she can save the world,” she finally said. “I simply wanted to find you. I have no photographs or anything to rely on other than my memories, and you are the only one I see, even if it is fleeting. I could not wait for her any longer, and I did not want Kat to have to choose.”

Like a child who found an unexpected present, I grinned and quickly rose to my feet. “Come on then.” I wiped my hands off on the towel. I handed it to her next. “We’ll finish this up after.” When Jenny was finished, I tossed the towel onto the counter and took her hand in mine. “I want to show you something.”

Feeling excitement for the first time in weeks, I led her from the greenhouse and hurried into the mudroom. “It’s in the basement,” I told her, and we beelined through the kitchen and into the den. I opened the door to the basement and flicked the light on.

“Come on. It’s down here.”

The steps creaked under our feet as we made our way down the stairs. It was a little chilly, but the room was still and smelled slightly of chemicals.

“What is this place?” she breathed.

She studied the dim room with awe. “My photo lab,” I told her. Photographs hung from lines that stretched from wall to wall. “I don’t get to come down here as much as I’d like, but Jackson and the kids made this place for me as a Christmas and twenty-sixth birthday present.”

Her eyes wandered around the room. “It is amazing.” Jenny walked up to the black and white photos of the kids. Thea and Beau playing with the wolves. Jackson and the kids splashing in the river. There were photos of Sophie and Thea reading on the couch, and of Beau and Jackson passed out on the living room floor during their campouts, when we’d first decided to stay.

“They are all memories,” Jenny whispered.

“Yes.” I rounded the small table in the center of the room to find the picture of Jenny and me. I opened my etched cedar box with my favorite photos, and pulled out the image of us I’d taken off her fridge in Whitely, the very day I thought she’d died.

“Here.” I spun around. Jenny pried her gaze from the photos lining the walls and stepped closer. “This is yours.”

The awe in Jenny’s expression settled as she stared at the two of us smiling back at her, and her eyes crinkled a little with a barely-there smile. She traced the outline of our faces with her fingertip, staring at it a few moments longer. “We were very young.”

“Yes, I don’t even remember taking that picture.”

Jenny was quiet for a few heartbeats, and I inched closer, gazing at the photo as I tried to see the same thing she did. “Do you remember anything?”

“No,” she breathed, slowly shaking her head.

I felt a slight pang, realizing my enthusiasm was brought on by the unrealistic expectation that something from our past would jog her memory. But if I didn’t even remember taking the photo, I’m not sure why she would. “Well, it’s yours, so, you can keep it, if you want.”

Jenny’s eyes shot to mine, almost green again in the overhead light. “Really?”

Her genuine surprise tugged at my heart, and I wanted to give her everything I could, if it would help her remember who she really was. “Of course.”

Eyes shimmering, she studied the image some more, rubbing her thumb against the worn edge. “Thank you.”

“Elle!” Beau called from upstairs in the house. “Elle!”

“We’re down here!”

The floor creaked as he hurried through the den above us. “Elle, come on. The fish wheel is working! There’s a ton of fish, come see!”

“On our way!” Smiling, I motioned for Jenny to follow me up the stairs. “Come on. It sounds like we’re having a salmon feast tonight.”

41

Alex

Jackson and I stood at the wash bin and counter outside the skinning shed, gutting and filleting fish for dinner. I sliced through the belly of the salmon, from fin to gills, and flipped it over to gut it.

“Sophie’s going to be bitter you took her favorite job,” Jackson joked, but I knew that was far from accurate. She hated cleaning fish with a passion. The scales under her nails, the slime between her fingertips. She would rather catch and cook than clean them.

“Where is she anyway? After the wheel got going, she took off.”

“A nap, I think,” I muttered, but I didn’t want to talk about Sophie or why she needed a nap to begin with. I’d been thinking about her enough since last night, more than was healthy.

“Elle said she wasn’t sleeping well. Any idea why?”

I tossed a handful of guts into the bucket. “Nope.”

Jackson’s eyes were like a hot iron, trying to sear more words from me, but I refused to talk about or acknowledge that I’d let Sophie and Phil sour my mood. It wasn’t my place to be upset anyway.

“What’s Kat at the prison for?” I asked, needing to think about something else. “She mentioned Hartley Bay before she left.”

“She and Woody are talking about how things are progressing there. She mentioned there’s talk of a summit.”

“A summit? Like, for survivors?”

Jackson nodded and set two salmon fillets in the basket with the others. He looked like a regular Suzy Homemaker in his gutting apron, donned with silvery fish scales and splatters of blood.

“Yeah, I don’t know much more. It sounds interesting though, listening to her talk about the place. All we hear on the radio is what they want us to know.”

“How do you mean?” More than ever I was interested in what else there was beyond Whitehorse—what I could learn and how I could carve out a life for myself, at least until Whitehorse was more than just the family. I was beginning to feel claustrophobic. I set two more fillets in the basket with the others.

“Kat mentioned they have quite the farm.” He slapped another salmon on the cutting board in front of me, then set one on his, wiping off the slime before he started. “I guess a few of the residents have Abilities that help produce production tenfold.”

“Then they’ll never want to come here,” I thought aloud. We had to work for our food, just like subsistence living had required before. Nothing grew with the snap of our fingers, or jumped from the river onto our plates.

“I don’t know about that, from the sound of it, Hartley Bay is overcrowded.”

“I guess it would be. Elle told me how small it is.”

“There’s a lot more infrastructure there because of it—to make sure things remain fair and equal—there has to be. Something we’ll need to keep in mind one day.”

“Is it still only accessible by air and water?” We hadn’t learned that until Woody had told us, soon after we’d settled. Had we parted with Jackson as originally planned, getting to Whitely would’ve been a bit more difficult than we’d realized. “I’m not sure how they’d have a summit, if that’s the case.”

“Kat mentioned Prince Rupert, but we’ll have to see.”

“Here you go,” Sophie called behind us. She walked up with a cart full of salmon. “Looks like you two are going to need another set of hands.”

Sophie’s eyes met mine, dark and shadowed with exhaustion. I imagined she hadn’t gotten much sleep after I left her and Phil in the barn last night. “I thought you were napping,” I said, sounding a bit more disappointed than I’d intended.

Her grip tightened on the salmon cart. “I tried.”

When Jackson put the tenth filet in the basket, enough for all of us for dinner. “Good timing then.” I rinsed my hands under the faucet. “I need to get started on dinner.” I lifted my gut-covered apron over my head, handing it to Sophie. “You can take my spot,” I told her.

She watched me curiously, and carefully took the apron from me, ensuring our fingers didn’t touch.

“I’ll be inside if you need me.” I grabbed the basket and turned for the house, ignoring their eyes on me.

42

Sophie

Citronella candles flickered down the center of the glass table to keep the mosquitoes at bay, and the peppermint and lemon oil on my skin was a scent I’d grown so accustomed to, I barely noticed it anymore. Just like I barely noticed the fog in my head from too many sleepless nights.

I peered down the row of four empty plates on my side of the table. Elle, Jackson, and Jenny had eaten all of their dinner, like I had. Then, I glanced down the row across from me, the plates each littered with one remaining portion or another.

“Well, it looks like some of us enjoyed dinner,” I muttered. Thea had only picked at her salmon. “That fish wheel is pretty awesome, Jackson. We’ll have enough frozen and smoked salmon to last us a while by the time we’re finished.”

“And snacks for the wolves,” Beau added with a grin.

“I can’t take all the credit.” He leaned back in his chair with full satisfaction on his face. “You all helped, and Took gave me the idea when we were staying with them last year.”

“It would be nice to see them again,” I said, suddenly in desperate need of Jade’s grandmotherly advice. “It’s been too long, and I’ve been thinking about them a lot.”

“So have I,” Elle admitted. “We’ll try to plan a trip soon. We have winter to think about first. And we need to stay with the fish wheel until salmon season is over.”

While all of that made sense, it was still irritating that the one thing I felt I needed to feel whole right now was an inconvenience.

When I noticed Jenny was watching me, I glanced away.

“You don’t like tomatoes?” Thea asked Kat, staring at her plate on the table beside her.

“I’m allergic,” Kat told her, pushing the plate closer to Thea.

Without hesitation, Thea plopped one into her mouth and giggled as it burst between her teeth.

“Ew, gross. Thea, close your mouth when you do that,” Beau scolded from the other side of her. He picked up his discarded napkin and wiped off his arm.

Thea giggled in answer, earning a warning, if a bit of an amused look, from Elle.

“Well, Alex, I think those were the best mashed potatoes you’ve made yet.” Jackson patted his stomach. “I even had seconds.”

“You always have seconds,” Elle told him.

Alex snorted, clearly in a more pleasant mood than he’d been in earlier, or at least he was hiding it better. “Well, it’s just been a while is all.” He grinned and gulped down the rest of the water in his glass.

“It’s because you’re always at the stupid dam and don’t cook for us anymore,” Thea told him with a bit of sass.

From the mouths of babes. Taking a sip of my sun tea, I smiled inwardly. Thea might’ve been the pickiest eater of all of us, but I loved that little girl and every single thought she had that fell from her lips without hesitation.

“What do you mean? I just cooked. Besides, it’s good for you to learn to cook. Your husband will appreciate it.”

“Hey,” Elle chided, and tossed her crumpled napkin at him. It would’ve been insulting if Alex weren’t the one who looked the best in an apron, and he knew it.

“I’m never getting married,” Thea promised. “Boys are gross.”

“So are you,” Beau groused back.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh.”

“Oh boy, here we go,” Alex muttered.

“Do you guys want to play the giraffe game?” Elle said with affect, making me laugh. “That one’s still got you stumped. Who knows, you might be old enough to figure it out this time.” She winked at me.

Beau and Thea looked at each other, their scowls lessening as they contemplated.

Kat leaned closer to Alex. “What’s the giraffe game?”

“They have to figure out what sound they make.”

Kat’s brow furrowed. “What sound do they make?” She straightened and looked at him.

Alex grinned with a shrug.

Kat’s cheek twitched, and I thought she might actually smile, but it never came.

With Beau and Thea deep in thought, Elle sighed in her small, momentary victory and leaned back in her seat. “So, Alex, the fish wheel is done and the goats have their little safe haven. Now what? Are you going to stay a little while longer?”

He pressed the prong of his fork into his last bit of potatoes, moving them around. The sun was bright behind him, washing his tanned skin in a gold hue, though I tried not to notice.

“It’s nice to be home,” he said, purposely not looking at me. It was obvious Alex had been avoiding me all day after what he saw last night, and it bothered me that it felt like I was being punished, regardless of what really happened. “But,” he continued, which I’d been expecting, “I’m curious to hear more about the summit Kat mentioned earlier.”

“A summit?” I glanced around the table.

Kat nodded and turned her fork over and over on her plate. “Now that Herodson is not a threat, Hartley Bay wants to gather everyone up.” She peered around at us. “Hartley is small, and the resources limited, and it’s time we all got on the same page. Or so Huck and the Navy feel—”

“The voice from the radio?” I asked.

“The very one,” Kat said. “He’s been helping the Navy to strategize and spread the word. They’ve sent envoys down the Pacific coast, looking for settlements, and they’ll be broadcasting more information soon, if they haven’t already.”

“Well, we’re going, right?” Alex asked, so quickly I thought he might actually be giddy. His eyes darted between Elle and Jackson. “I mean, this is what we’ve been waiting for, a way to tell people about what we have here—this could be huge.”

A dozen resentments filled my head as Alex said that. The thought of him leaving again, knowing it was because of me, was like a slap to the face—like he couldn’t get away from me fast enough. And once again, the Ranskins would be shoved to the bottom of the priority list because there would never be a good time to see them. And more than anything, a summit meant that, unless we all abandoned our posts, some of us would be leaving to attend and we’d be separated again, which rarely ended well.

Jackson looked at Elle, like they were still undecided. Alex leaned forward, his eyes pointed and clearly impatient. “Think of what we could learn, and the people we could bring back. You said it yourself, Jackson—Hartley Bay is overcrowded. They could use a place like this. We could see what other Abilities are out there . . .”

“More than you can imagine,” Kat muttered. She looked up from her index finger, tapping against the side of the table, to our expectant faces. She was restless, always, I’d noticed. “And the number of people attending—who might be attending—is why I’d wanted to stay and wait for it.”

JJ shot Kat a stilted look, and a silent conversation passed between them, thickening the tension more than Alex and I even could.

“Well?” he prompted. “Are we going to go?”

Jackson tossed his napkin onto his plate and heaved out a steady breath. “We haven’t had time to discuss it yet.” His bearded face gave nothing away, not a clenching of the jaw or a twitch of the lip, but I saw the concern in his eyes, and concern meant he was already thinking seven steps ahead. We would attend, of course, because it was the whole point of keeping Whitehorse running; this was the reason we’d stayed here, the reason we’d sacrificed so much. Jackson was too smart to pass up what might be our only opportunity to make the shift.

“So . . .” I scooted my chair out as I grabbed my dirty plate. I could feel the anxiety creeping up on me, even as I tried to swallow it away. “The Ranskins are tabled for now. Some of us are going to the summit, and there’s a possibility whoever goes might not come back. Meanwhile, the rest of us stay here and hold down the fort. Got it.” I grabbed my empty tea glass and turned for the sliding door.

“Sophie,” Elle said, her surprise ringing in my ears like a damn bell. “That’s a little overdramatic, don’t you think?”

I looked at her. “Which part? Because all of it is true, isn’t it?” Oblivious to the kids gaping at me, I glanced at Alex, then at Kat. “It’s true, isn’t it?” I repeated, knowing at least she’d be realistic about it. “They’re putting a broadcast out to anyone and everyone. Good or bad, anyone who hears it could come.”

Kat’s gaze darted around the table. “It’s a possibility.”

“What, Sophie, you don’t think it’s smart to go?” Alex asked. “After everything we’ve done to keep this place running?”

“Why does it matter what I think, Alex? You’ll do what you want regardless—you’ll leave regardless.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” I slid the screen door open.

“Good, because it shouldn’t matter if I leave,” he ground out. “You have plenty to keep you busy here.”

“You mean Phil?” I shot back at him.

Alex simply stared at me, like everything was so obvious to him, and he had all the answers.

Clenching my plate in my hand, feeling the sharp bite of bitterness in my stomach, I nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I do.” I didn’t know if the words hurt him as much as they hurt me, but it felt good to sling some frustration his way—even if the words weren’t true—because I was tired of bearing it all on my own. “So, deal with it and stop being an ass.”

“Okay, that’s enough you two,” Jackson scolded, and he stood up from his chair. “Now’s not the time to hash this out. And we’ll discuss the summit later.” His tone brooked no argument, and as I felt everyone’s eyes on me, tears burned the back of my throat, and I tried to swallow them away.

“Fine,” I breathed, because it was all I could manage. Somehow, I’d lost my resolve to be strong and capable. I barely felt like me anymore, and turning on my heel, I disappeared into the house, swallowing a silent scream.

43

Alex

Following the winding gravel path toward the water, I tried not to let what happened last night distract me. The whole reason I wanted to talk to Sophie was to make peace, if it was even possible, and make sure she was okay; the Sophie glaring at me on the deck wasn’t okay. She was rumpled and agitated, and that it was because of me made me feel nauseous.

As expected, I found her on my rock. I hadn’t been to the swimming hole all summer. I’d been too busy at the plant and at the prison. This place felt more like hers now, and I was just an intruder.

She didn’t bother looking at me as I stepped around the rocks along the riverbed, through the mud as I drew closer. Her back was to me, and her hair was a nest of chaos on top of her head, even her shoulders were slouched. She knew it was me, though. I knew she could sense me when I was near, the way I could sense her.

Hastily, she swiped beneath her eye, like she was crying.

“You’re right. I’m an asshole,” I blurted. I hated to see her cry, and she was crying because I was wound up and jealous, and I had no right to be. I stepped closer, the toe of my boot scraping against the boulder—a much needed, physical barrier between us—and I willed her to look at me. “I regretted throwing Phil in your face the second I did it.” I needed to see those big, beautiful blue eyes of hers, and to somehow feel like we weren’t on this downward spiral that was quickly veering out of my control.

“It’s fine. I was an asshole too.”

“I saw you with Phil last night and it hurt . . . a lot,” I admitted, shoving my hands in my pockets. I needed her to understand, even if I knew I’d do a piss-poor job explaining it. “I keep telling myself distance is best, but the closer you and Phil get, the more I hate him. Feeling it too on top of everything, seeing it”—I shook my head—“I don’t like it.”

“Phil and I aren’t what you think,” she said, finally looking at me. Her eyes were watery, and her nose was red, the combination illuminating the circles under her eyes.

“Whatever the two of you are, I still don’t like it.” I had no right to say it, but I couldn’t stop myself. “I don’t know why I thought this would be easier.”

Sophie gurgled out a laugh, like it was all she could manage. “Yeah well, whatever’s going on—I don’t like it either.” Despite her laugh, her eyes glistened with tears, and a few seconds later, she lowered her head into her hands and let out a sob. “Something’s wrong with me, Alex,” she whimpered, tearing a part of my heart out with it.

I wanted to climb up onto the rock and comfort her in some way, but my feet didn’t move. A siren rang out in my head, telling me to stay away if I was going to have any shred of sanity left. Instead, I locked my jaw into place, and fisted my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her.

“Something weird is happening.” Her words flowed in a rush. “My Ability is changing, maybe—it’s different this time. I can’t sleep—all I see when I close my eyes is Phil, and I don’t know why. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

My heart cinched so tight I thought it might burst, and I forced a deep breath through my nose. “Maybe you care about him more than you think.”

She sniffed and threw her hands up. “I’ve tried to like him like that. It’s not working.” She shook her head. “I’m just—I’m so tired,” she breathed. “I need space, but I don’t want to be alone. I need air to breathe. I need sleep.”

“Maybe my being here is making it too hard to figure out what you really want, Soph. I obviously can’t handle it, and it’s making everything harder on you.”

Finally, she looked at me, and wiped the moisture from her cheek. “Meaning, you’re going to the summit, whether Jackson goes or not.”

I bit the side of my cheek, forcing a nod.

Sophie stared at me, or maybe she was staring through me, and finally she nodded, like she’d accepted that was the right thing for us, and her eyes refocused on me. “Is it weird that I miss Whitely?” Her lashes were dark and wet.

“No.” I’d been there all of five minutes, but Sophie had spent a lot of her life there, so I could imagine her missing her home.

“Even if I thought I was going to die—even if I wanted to at times, I felt so miserable—everything was less complicated than this.”

I thought of Sophie in the hallway outside my Uncle Jimmy’s apartment, and how her eyes burned with concern as she took my face in her hand to assess the damage my uncle had done without a second thought. A practical stranger, caring about me. Touching me. Seeing me. It wasn’t like that now; there were very carefully constructed walls, even if they were beginning to crumble.

Leaning against the boulder, I peered down at my boots. Long gone were the old Adidas with worn soles that had been too small, but deep down, it felt like a part of me was still on the run and restless. “The day I found you,” I started, remembering the way my heart practically exploded with joy seeing her in the doorway of her apartment. “I thought for a moment you were an angel. If you hadn’t been there, I wasn’t sure what I would’ve done—”

“I know,” she said softly. “Me too.” She waited a breath, then continued. “Will you promise me something?” she asked, though her voice was barely audible. She lifted her head to look at me, tears filling her eyes as she worried her bottom lip.

I hated that look. Lost. Lonely. Afraid. I swallowed thickly, determined to keep myself together, because holding or reassuring her wasn’t an option. “Whatever you want.”

“Promise me you won’t disappear.” Her voice was pleading and riddled with desperation, and for the first time since I was twelve years old, I had to stifle the overwhelming threat of tears.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I promised. “I won’t disappear,” I whispered. Had I been able to formulate more than three words, I would’ve told her she never had to worry about that because I would never leave her; I would always be there, willing to do anything for her. But I wouldn’t make more promises I couldn’t keep.

The sound of the rushing water filled the silence that followed, and I peered up at the sun, lowering behind the mountains. She was exhausted, and it was getting late.

“Do you want me to walk you back to the house?” I wasn’t asking because she needed my protection, but because I thought she might want the company. Or maybe I did.

But Sophie shook her head. “No, thanks.” Her voice was only a whisper. “I’m going to stay out here a little bit longer. You should go in, though, and get some rest. The next broadcast is tomorrow. Everything will change again after that.”

Sophie’s none too subtle request for me to leave her alone was received, loud and clear. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I ran my hand over my head, wishing I could scrub the constant disquiet away, and I spared her one more glance. I wanted to say more; instead, I turned to leave. “Goodnight, Sophie.”

A sniffle was all I heard in response, and flexing my hands at my sides, I forced myself to walk away.

44

Elle

I leaned against my photo table down in the basement, arms crossed over my chest, staring at the photos I’d taken over the past ten months.

I tried to remember the exact moment in time Beau, Thea, Alex and Sophie had become my family. In the frantic haze of the months past, their smiling faces had become everything to me, each of their laughs filling the emptiness I’d always felt, diminishing it to nothing more than a shadow of a memory; each of their tears were like salt in a festering wound.

I hated that Alex and Sophie were fighting, and that Ross was keeping his distance. I hated that Jackson would no doubt leave soon for the summit, because despite the truth in Sophie’s words, going south was the right thing to do—even if the thought of splitting all of us up scared the shit out of me.

The steps creaked as Jackson made his way down into the lab, and before he even uttered a single word, the air in the room changed, and the chill was gone.

“Beau and Thea are asleep,” he said, his voice smooth and rich like hot fudge on a sundae. “Alex is in his room, and Sophie is—somewhere, I guess, probably in the barn.”

He walked up beside me, his gaze a lick of warmth against my face. “Elle?”

I already missed him and he hadn’t even left yet.

Rubbing my arms, I finally looked at him. “The first time I saw you at the bus depot, I knew I needed you,” I told him.

With a pinched brow, Jackson stood beside me at the table, his arm brushing against mine.

“I knew I had to do everything I could to keep you.” Steeling my nerves under his pensive gaze, I turned to face him. “At first because I was afraid, but then because I couldn’t imagine my life without you.”

Jackson leaned in and pressed a kiss to my mouth. His whiskers tickled my cheeks as his lips lingered on mine, and as he pulled away, he brushed his nose against mine and lifted my chin. “Where is this coming from?” he said softly. His face was cast in shadows from the dim light overhead, and I wondered if there was ever a man more perfect than him. Or a woman as lucky as me.

I tried and failed to say the next words with absolute certainty. “Alex is right. You have to go to the summit.”

Surprise creased his brow, but he waited patiently for me to continue.

“What have we been keeping the plant going for if not for this? The grueling days, working between the prison and Whitehorse—all the reconstruction and supply runs, even Alex and Bert locking themselves away in the facility—would all be for nothing.”

“Not for nothing,” he pointed out. “For us too.”

“I guess, but we can’t be all the kids know forever, Jackson. We set out to give them a sense of safety and community in the beginning. Sure, living in hiding changed that, but now—now they need stimulation and people their own age. Thea has an imaginary friend because her brother can’t stand her, and Beau’s only friends are wolves. You see how Sophie and Alex are, they’re going to hate each other by the time this thing between them is over. There aren’t distractions like there were before; Sophie doesn’t have friends to confide in, and she stopped confiding in me a long time ago. Alex—he needs a purpose, and there’s only so much that will keep him here before he leaves on his own, anyway.”

Jackson listened without disagreement, but I assumed one was coming.

“If we don’t try to make Whitehorse what we set out for it to be—if we don’t seize this opportunity—things are only going to get worse. But Sophie was right, too. We don’t know what we’re walking into either. The summit will be dangerous.”

“Yes,” he said, a single word that rumbled and reverberated through me. “It will be dangerous, and we’d be gone for a couple weeks, at least. Probably longer. A lot could go wrong.”

“Wow,” I mouthed with a pointed glare. “Thank you for reiterating all of that. Do you want to give me an ulcer?”

He chuckled softly and pulled me in front of him, our bodies pressed together as one. “No, but I want to make sure you know all of the risks, and of course, that you won’t get to see me for a while. You might have withdrawals.”

“Or you will,” I said, and lifted my chin defiantly.

“That’s a given.”

I rose up on my tiptoes, staring into his eyes as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

His hazel gaze shifted from my mouth to my cheek, then he lifted me up and set me on the photo table, his hips pressed against mine.

“What should we do about—”

“Please don’t say the kids,” he whispered, and brushed a kiss against my lips.

I stifled a laugh. “Of course not,” I lied.

His irises burned brighter, even in the shadows, and a warm ache spiraled through me, low and deep. “Instead, let’s talk about how I’m going to get through a few weeks without you.”

I lifted my lips to his, stopping a hairsbreadth away. “I have a few ideas,” I whispered, then pressed a feather light kiss to the corner of his mouth. With my index finger, I traced a line over his Adam’s apple and down his chest, stopping at the button of his jeans. “But it’s going to take some vigorous commitment on your part,” I warned.

He grinned and kissed me more deeply, pulling me in like I was the very air he craved. “I think I’m up for the challenge.”

45

Sophie

We sat in the prison, thirteen of us, waiting at the long cafeteria tables, poised and ready to listen to the weekly broadcast. It had been weeks since we’d listened to Huck Fulton deliver stats and updates to any and all survivors listening. Now, however, knowing what announcements were to be made, we waited impatiently for Bert and Ross to join us, and for the clock to strike 6:00 p.m.

Elle sat next to me, with Thea in her lap, playing with a strand of Elle’s loose hair. But I kept looking at Phil, across from me. He and his mystery girl had been on my mind since the barn, which hadn’t helped lessen any weirdness with my dreams.

“Hey,” I said, leaning closer. Things between us weren’t the same since the barn either, but they were bearable, and even if I’d been feeling off about him lately, I was grateful for bearable at this point.

He leaned closer. “What’s up?”

“I have a random question to ask you. Well, I guess it’s not so random, but . . . Did you know someone named Nora—you know, before the outbreak?”

Phil pursed his lips, and with a thoughtful, furrowed brow, he nodded. “Yeah, I think a girl in my psych class was named Nora.”

“Did she have dark brown hair?”

He shrugged. “I think so. Why?”

I couldn’t help but smile as the frantic buzz of alarm silenced. “Good. I just—” I waved his question away. “I had this crazy dream and that makes it a bit less weird.”

“Does it? Because that sounds pretty weird.” It made sense to me, and that was what mattered. I rolled my eyes, glad that things were okay between us, even if it was still strange that I’d been dreaming about him. But this real Phil was so different from the other one, and because I knew my dreams weren’t real, I couldn’t hold my warped brain against him.

Elle glanced at the clock on the wall, then at Jackson sitting beside her. “Ross is coming right?”

Jackson blew out a breath, clearly uncertain what was going on with Ross. “I hope so,” he said, and marked an X on the tic-tac-toe game he was playing with Beau.

“Hey! How do you keep winning?”

Jackson winked at him. “Age and wisdom.”

Elle and Jackson hadn’t brought up the summit since my outburst at the table last night, but I already knew some of us would be going. And maybe, just maybe, a small part of me was glad Alex would be one of them.

I met his gaze from the other table. He gave me a pinched smile, and Kat stole his attention to look at a map sprawled out between them. Like me, JJ just watched everyone, quietly observing. I had so many questions about her and Kat. Like why Kat was so keen on going back to Hartley Bay since she just left it behind. Even if JJ wasn’t much for sentiment, she had to have some sort of feelings about it, especially if they loved each other so much.

I glanced at Stanley and Woody at the table across from me, wondering what their thoughts were about the summit. Woody seemed content to mutter to himself as he picked at his fingernails with his pocket knife, and Stanley just watched him, semi-disgusted, with his pen poised over his journal, waiting to take notes.

Bert’s hoarse laughter boomed down the hallway before he entered the cafeteria. “—Ability enhanced strip clubs—”

Everyone’s eyes shifted to him.

“Inappropriate,” Elle warned, but was too slow to cover Thea’s ears.

“Shit, sorry,” Bert croaked. He wasn’t like any old man I’d ever met. He’d smoked enough cigarettes and God only knew what else in his lifetime, so I was pretty sure his insides were preserved like century-old driftwood. And his humor, even if Elle didn’t always appreciate it, made me smile. He was like that one unruly hair you couldn’t get to stay in your bun, or that piece of bacon that refused to fry. Everything about him was odd, and I liked it.

“What’s a strip club?” Thea asked, blinking up at Elle.

Jackson scratched the back of his head. “I’ll leave that one to you,” he muttered as he rose to his feet.

Elle heaved a sigh and told her it was a dance hall, then pointed toward the HAM radio at the end of the table as Jackson switched it on. He glanced around the room as Huck Fulton’s familiar, rich voice came over the airwaves.

“—again with Hartley Bay for the weekly broadcast. If you listened to our broadcast last week, you know we were hinting at a big announcement.” I wasn’t sure I’d ever meet Huck, but I used to imagine him in his late thirties, and tall, dark, and handsome. That was before we were considering going to Hartley. Since then, the fantasy had faded away. Now, I imagined him tired, like all of us, patient and diplomatic, since he was running one of the only communities we knew about. But I imagined he sat in his office each night like Woody did, drinking a highball of something to wind down for the day.

“Some of you have been listening in for nearly two years,” he began again. “And you are aware how much has changed now that General Gregory Herodson with the United States Army is no longer a threat. With his armies disbanded, we—survivors of the new world—must come out of hiding if we want to truly live again. And so, Hartley Bay is hosting the Survivor’s Summit in Prince Rupert, what we hope will be the first of many.”

I glanced at Alex again. His eyes were riveted to the radio, like Huck himself was standing at the head of the class, enlisting men and women to fight a war that was already over.

“Effective immediately, we’re preparing to leave for port city Prince Rupert, in hopes of meeting some of our fellow surviving communities. We invite all survivors interested in trade, who want to exchange knowledge and gain allies in this very big world we now live in, to join us. There are safe havens throughout the United States and throughout the world, and while our small town of Hartley Bay aims to remain one of them, we are too small to host or house many others.

“We can assure you that our gates at Prince Rupert will be well-guarded, and there will be checkpoints upon entering to ensure everyone’s safety. Additionally, we know winters here in the North are harsh, and traveling is difficult, sometimes impossible. So we want to make this summit as efficient as possible. Prince Rupert’s port and city gates will be open by the first of August. We ask that you bring what food you can, though there should be enough lodging for everyone during your stay.

“Again, this is Huck Fulton, Vice Councilman for the Hartley Bay community. We’ll bring you more information about the Northern Summit next Sunday. Until then, may your bellies be full and your hearths stay warm.” The radio went silent, and for a moment we all sat staring at it, as if Huck were simply taking a breath and had more to say.

Jackson cleared his throat and clicked the radio off. “Well,” he started, peering around at all the blinking eyes and engrossed faces. “We have a community of our own to run and winter to prepare for. But we also have an opportunity to create an even larger community—a sustainable one with more hands and able bodies—by going to this summit. What do we want to do?” His gaze flicked to Alex. “I already know your vote.”

Alex’s eyes didn’t waver from Jackson’s.

“The dangers of the past couple years aren’t gone just because Herodson is,” Ross said, glancing around at all of us. “People are dangerous now. Crazy, power hungry, Ability-mad fanatics are still out there, and they are still a threat. Whoever stays behind will need protection, just like anyone who goes to Prince Rupert.” Ross looked at Beau and Thea, then at Alex and Jackson. Then, his gaze leveled on Kat and JJ. “It’s something to keep in mind, is all.”

Elle tilted her head to the side like she was uncertain and cleared her throat. “I think it’s more foolish to waste this opportunity than it is to split up.” Her eyes shifted around the room. She appeared to be thoughtful about it, but she and Jackson knew what they were going to do from the moment they sat down tonight. It was the uncertainty of it all that weighed on her, the backlash of what might come. “A team should go, and a team should stay.”

“Hear, hear,” Woody agreed. “If it’s civilization we want, this is the time to make our move.”

“I’m in,” Bert rasped. “We ain’t gettin’ any younger.”

“We’re at a disadvantage,” Woody continued, patting down his wild hair, “having so much to ourselves, so much to run and to protect. We’re spreading ourselves so thin, it isn’t sustainable. We can vet survivors who come here.” He looked pointedly at me. “We can learn their intentions, and if anyone tries any funny business, well, we have a dually, reinforced prison at our disposal.”

While people were more dangerous now than ever, it was a slippery slope between us protecting ourselves and the government doing it, which was Woody’s biggest fear. “Uh oh, Woody,” I said with a hint of amusement. “You sound like one of them.”

Woody’s mouth curved into a grin. “Desperate times,” was all he said.

“What about moving to Hartley Bay?” Phil asked. “I’m not saying I want to, but it’s a possibility. It’s safe, with only the maritime highway access now. We could be a part of a community without the worry of running an entire city.”

I glanced at Beau, seeing the instant apprehension on his face. “I like it here,” I said, and it was true. This was our home now. We’d worked hard to make it that way.

“Me too,” Beau added quickly as he clutched Luna’s fur in his hand. A pack of wolves wouldn’t likely be welcomed in Hartley Bay, especially if it was already so crowded.

“Hartley Bay is not an option,” Kat said with far more authority on the topic than we had. “You heard him, it’s already full. That’s why they’re having the summit in Prince Rupert. There’s been a small Navy outpost there, but it’s not protected or lived in, other than what small area they’ve dedicated to barracks. It’s uninhabited, nothing like your Whitehorse where things have been kept up. Plus, Whitehorse is sprawling with housing and room to grow if needed. You have the hydro plant and the prison for safety, or to lock people away, like Woody suggested.” She looked from Phil to Jackson, then leveled her attention on Woody. “Whitehorse is a good place to settle. Trust me.”

Kat stole a glance in JJ’s direction, their eyes locking for a split second, before Kat said, “I’d like to be on the team that goes back, though.”

“You just came from there,” Ross said, his voice riddled with skepticism.

“Yeah, well, I want to go back.” She glowered at him, daring Ross to say something more. “Besides, others will come with news and discoveries we haven’t heard yet. With food and medicine—”

“How can you be so sure?” JJ asked.

“Because,” Kat rebuked, “that’s the point of all of this, to bring us all together. And if nothing else, Herodson’s virus rooted out the weak, which means everyone left alive has something to contribute—every single person who comes. The Abilities you will learn about alone will be worth the trip. It’s not just an ordinary town anymore.”

“You probably imagine a town like you’ve lived in before, when people couldn’t move things with their minds or will it to rain.” Phil and I looked at one another in surprise. “Think of what the eleven of you did here, and then times that by a hundred, because if Prince Rupert is anything like Hartley Bay, you won’t be able to walk down the street without seeing someone doing something that will make you stop and stare. At least until you get used to it.”

“What else should we expect?” Alex asked. The excitement in his voice was unmistakable.

“I don’t know how it will be in Prince Rupert, but if they do anything there like they do in Hartley Bay there are think tank rooms where people map and plot routes, and sit around tables much like this; deciding which teams to send out next, who will be in the rotation, and what supplies can be spared. Nothing is easy, everything is congested and complicated, and while everyone is working together most of the time, there is a heaviness that goes unspoken. Everyone still mourns. Everyone still jumps at shadows. And more than anything, everyone wants a slice of normalcy again.” Kat peered around the room at our entranced faces.

“Then we decide who goes and who stays,” Ross said in reply. “I, for one, would like to stay.” He was the only military trained person we had, aside from Woody whose skills were a bit rusty and primarily tactical.

“I’ll stay here,” Elle added. “Thea, Ross, and I will keep everything running while the others are gone.” She tightened one of the purple ribbons on the end of Thea’s long braid. With a brisk nod, Thea leaned her head back against Elle’s chest and gave a thumbs-up.

“I will stay with Elle,” JJ added.

Kat’s gaze skirted to her briefly, a shadow of fear or sadness darkening her stormy-blue eyes, but she said nothing.

“I want to go to the summit,” Beau said. “I want to meet people with Abilities like me.” He looked from Jackson to Elle, and his eyebrows drew together in a silent plea as he waited for her final say in the matter. I was surprised when she said yes.

Beau’s eyes nearly bulged with surprise, like he couldn’t believe it himself. “Really?” he chirped, just like his sister, and one of his rare smiles engulfed his face. “I can go?”

She glanced at Jackson. “Yes. As long as you look after Jackson for me.”

“I will!” Beau said, running around the table to her. “Me and Luna both!” He threw his arms around Elle in gratitude, shocking the shit out of her. Though she smiled, I could see the fear filling her eyes too.

“Alex, Kat, myself, Woody—” Jackson looked at Bert and Phil. “What are your thoughts?”

“I think I’m gonna have to go,” Bert said. “Sounds like a meeting of the minds, and I’d like to know what other folks have been working on. Not to mention, you all might need me along the way. The bus, which I assume we’re taking, hasn’t been used since we put in the converted engine. Someone’s gotta make sure you all get there safe and sound.”

“I’ll stay here,” Phil said. “There’s a lot to do to prep for winter, and someone’s gotta keep Stanley company. Someone’s gotta make sure he gets out of this big, old place and into the sunlight every once in a while.” He grinned, happily willing to take charge.

“Perhaps we can work on your garden,” Elle said, offering the warm reassurances she’d gotten so good at over the past year. “Especially without Woody to kill everything off—”

“Hey now, I resent that statement,” he blubbered.

And, as a small, knowing smile crept over Stanley’s lips, everyone’s faces lit with amusement.

Finally, Jackson’s gaze leveled on me. “Soph, what do you—”

“I’m staying,” I said, even if a small, eager part of me was curious to go. I didn’t want to leave Elle alone with the homestead, and Alex was right—we needed the time apart; a clean break, one that we both agreed on. After talking to him, I’d felt better. This was how I was going to start gaining control again, not being pushed and pulled in so many directions—my heart verses my mind.

“Then it’s settled,” Bert said, clapping his hands together. “We have a shitload of planning to do. I’ll make some coffee.”

Coffee was just what I needed if I was going to get through the hours of planning to come, and as I stood, Phil stopped me.

“Hey,” he said, clearing his throat. “Can we like, forget about the other night? I mean, it just feels like a drunken night sort of deal, like something we should pretend didn’t happen so we can be normal again, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” I said, though I still thought about our many dream kisses when I looked at him.

“Really, because I feel like you’re just saying that to get me to go away.” He smiled.

Laughing at such a Phil thing to say, I nudged him. “I’m not just saying that, I promise. I’ve got other stuff going on, it’s not entirely about you.”

“Okay good, because it was stupid—”

“No, Phil. It wasn’t stupid,” I told him. It might’ve been fuel to a strange, unrequited fire, but it wasn’t stupid. “I’m glad we did it.” It was only partially a white lie.

“I take it you haven’t been sleeping any better?”

“Ha! Is it that obvious?”

“Yes, but only because I know you. You haven’t asked me to spar at all this week.”

“That’s true, it’s been a pretty busy week. I actually forgot about it.”

“Anything I can do to help?” While Phil’s question was harmless, it was comical; he’d done plenty already.

“No, I’m good. It’s nothing a little coffee won’t fix.” I tipped my head toward the scent of fresh brew. “Come on, then. We have a lot of weight to pull while they’re gone. We might as well get used to it now. This is when everything changes.”

46

Alex

“You’re sure you want to stay?” I asked Ross as we made our way down the hall to Woody and Stanley’s offices. We needed maps of British Columbia if we were going to determine the best route to Prince Rupert, and how long the trip would actually take. Two weeks? More?

When Ross didn’t answer, I looked at him. He stared down the halogen lit hallway, the sound of his boots and mine echoing like a memory from the past. Only before, it would’ve been Digs walking beside me with a scowl on his face, angry at me for getting caught up in something dangerous again, angry at me for getting caught at all. But Ross’s scowl was more menacing, and it made me uneasy.

“Ross?”

“I’m sure,” he reiterated.

“I’m assuming this is about JJ and Kat,” I said, knowing he still didn’t trust them. Hell, I didn’t even know if I should call JJ by her nickname, like Sophie, or by her real name, like Elle. Ross didn’t spend much time with them, so I figured it would be a while still before he warmed up to the idea of them at all. “Kat’s coming with us so—”

“Jackson will know if something bad is coming on that front,” he said. Then he stopped and looked at me. “What did Sophie say their Abilities were?”

“I’m not sure she said. I guess I just assumed JJ didn’t have one since she doesn’t remember anything. If Jackson and Sophie aren’t worried then—”

“I still don’t trust them.” We continued down the hall. “Well, Woody can block Kat’s Ability in Prince Rupert—or any other Ability-related threat, for that matter.”

Even if part of me felt like Ross was overreacting, at least when it came to Kat and JJ, I was suddenly glad he was staying behind with the others. He’d be diligent, and keep them safe.

We turned down the next corridor, toward the administration offices. “Can I ask what it is about them you don’t trust?”

“They aren’t telling us something,” he said after a few seconds. “I can just . . . feel it.”

Though it wasn’t amusing—more unnerving than anything—I laughed to break up the tension. “That’s supposed to be Jackson’s forte.”

“Yeah, well, he wants Elle to be happy, and sometimes people miss things when they’re distracted.”

As we stepped into the office lobby, we stopped in the doorway. “Whoa,” we said in unison.

It had been a while since I’d been inside, and Stanley had butcher paper taped up everywhere and white boards leaning against the walls. There were pie charts and formulas, bar graphs and tally marks everywhere. I saw the names of safe havens I’d heard about, lists of known Abilities, and a timeline of dates. “This is some warped mash-up of Criminal Minds and Bill Nye,” I muttered.

“You’re telling me.”

I walked over to the diagram of Abilities. They were broken down into categories, by type: Empathy, Telepathy, Alteration, Telekinesis, Physical Enhancement, and Mind Manipulation. “He has all of us on here,” I realized, and pointed to my name by Ability Alteration. “Ability to amplify others through touch,” I read aloud.

Ross stepped closer to the list, staring at his name circled at the bottom with a line drawn between Empathy and Mind Manipulation. “Able to see others memories, sense emotions, and put others at ease . . .” His voice trailed off as he read, and the permanently etched line in his forehead deepened. “Kelsey always said I was one of a kind,” he said dryly. It was a joke, a sad one. Especially since Ross hated his Ability, even more than Sophie hated hers. And for the first time, I realized how lucky I was in that department.

I didn’t like my Ability around Sophie, because like everything seemed to, it only made my relationship with her harder. But just like I couldn’t choose my shitty parents, we couldn’t choose our Abilities, and we were stuck with them. Forever. I didn’t mind mine so much, even if I had to rely on other people for it to work, which wasn’t one of my strong suits. Fleetingly, I wondered what Stanley’s notes said about why our Abilities were what they were.

I cleared my throat. “I’ll grab the maps.” I turned for the wall covered in scribbled-on maps of the Northwest Territories and British Columbia, deciding to take them all down in case we needed them, when there was the squeak, and a door opened down the hall. “That’s Woody’s office,” I thought aloud.

Ross and I glanced behind us to see Woody and Kat coming down the hall, but unlike Woody who smiled in surprise, Kat’s eyes widened imperceptivity with alarm. “Didn’t know you were in here.” Woody said, and he waved to the wall of maps. “Just be careful taking them down. Stanley’s quite particular, in case you haven’t noticed.” With a chuckle, he headed down the hall.

Kat glanced at us once more, but before she could take another step, Ross’s voice cut through the silence. “What were you doing in there?” Apparently Kat’s surprise in seeing us hadn’t been lost on him either.

“Not that it’s any business of yours,” she quipped, “but we were going over a few things.”

Ross took a step closer, his eyes like sharpened blades, threatening to harpoon her to the wall. “Like what?”

“Take a step back,” she ground out. “And it’s none of your damn business.”

“Like fucking hell it’s not my business,” he growled. I could practically see the fumes as his gears grinded. “What are you hiding?”

“Easy man,” I said, sidestepping the desk to put myself between them.

Kat peeled her lips apart and seethed. “Back. The fuck. Off.”

Hands clenched at her sides, she marched onward, and I could practically feel the steam wafting off of her. “Next time,” she called over her shoulder, “ask nicely, and I might tell you.”

Ross didn’t need to snarl, it was implied in the rigidity of his body. He was wound so tight, it made my muscles hurt thinking about it.

“We’ll ask Woody about it, okay? I’m sure it was nothing important. She just likes getting you riled up.”

“It’s fucking working,” he mumbled.

“Wrong word choice—just, come on.” I turned back to the maps. “Help me get these down, they’re waiting for us.”

* * *

“So,” Jackson said, his finger tracing the highway down the topographical map of the Canadian Territories. While everyone fanned off to do tasks and chores, those of us leaving for Prince Rupert gathered around the cafeteria table to plan. “If we take the Yukon 1 over the border, then cross through 37, to Highway 16, it would be a solid day and a half, maybe two of driving.”

“Shit, that’s nothing,” Bert said.

“But you have to take into account the neglected roads,” Kat reminded them.

I glanced over at where she sat on the tabletop; her long blonde braid hung off to the side as she studied the map sprawled out in front of us. She reminded me of Thea when she sat up on the counter at home, watching Elle cook dinner. Only, Kat didn’t look so innocent. She was like a vulture, hovering and plotting with keen eyes and bits of knowledge we needed.

“So,” I started, “I don’t suppose you took many roads to get here then,” I asked her. “Or know what the road conditions are these days?”

Her light blue eyes flicked to me, and she shook her head. “I’m not all that fond of being a walking target.”

“Yeah, stupid question,” I grumbled.

“So, tell us,” Woody said. “What sort of place is Prince Rupert? What’s the actual city like? None of us have traveled that far south.” Jackson, Ross, Bert, and I all stared at her.

She took a swig from her coffee mug and licked her lips. “It was a good manufacturing and shipping port for years. As far as I can tell, the majority of the summit would be held in the city center, where there’s enough housing and conference areas large enough for everyone, depending on how many survivors attend. You should know, though, when I was in Hartley, there was only one person I knew of, though, that could generate any sort of power, and that person had to be physically touching whatever they were sending power into. They don’t have a hydro plant or anything like that to keep the power running.”

“Is that a warning?” Ross muttered from his gun cleaning station behind her. They’d both cooled down, and were mostly ignoring each other, but at least they were sitting in the same room and weren’t shouting.

“It could be.” Kat glanced from Ross to Jackson, and then to Woody. “I think you should be prepared for a lot of people to come here, I know many of them will consider it, at least. You have what they don’t, and that’s something you need to keep in mind. Rest assured, these people are good people. They want to move on with their lives after so much loss.”

“Good, that’s the point,” Woody said. “If they want peace and they want to thrive, they’ll listen to us. They don’t know how to keep the plant running during the winter like we do. They don’t know about our safety precautions—our hideouts and surplus storages. I’ve been here nearly two years and know this place like the back of my hand. They’ll see that. They’ll understand.”

“And what if they have someone who can see inside our minds, like Sophie?” Bert said. “What if they learn where our stockpiles and weapons are?”

“Which Abilities do we need to be ready for, Kat?” Jackson said. It was less of a wondering question, but one that commanded an answer.

She raked her fingers through her blonde hair, stopping at her braid. “There are survivors who can do what Sophie does, through touch, like her, but without it too. Animal whisperers, like Beau, which you already know. Telepaths who can only speak to people, too.”

Her eyes fell on Jackson. “There are some people who have heightened sense, like you, only it’s more physical, like seeing and hearing things others can’t, or running faster—becoming stronger. And I’ve even heard whispers of a man who can’t die.”

Jackson’s eyebrows lifted with intrigue.

“I’ve heard of others who can see flashes of the future.”

“Whoa.” Now that was the most intriguing to me by far. Even if every story ever told having to do with prophecies and the future warned you never to alter it, I wanted to know mine like a druggie craved his next fix. I wanted to know what my life would be like years from now, who I would be with. I wanted to meet that person. I wanted to know where, exactly, I belonged, and if Whitehorse wasn’t it.

Kat looked at Ross, but it wasn’t with her usual animosity, but more like regret. “I’ve never heard of anyone who can do what you can, though,” she said.

It took Ross a moment to realize that the cafeteria had fallen quiet, and he looked at us, his eyes locking with Kat’s before his brows lowered and his expression hardened again. “Lucky me,” he muttered.

The cafeteria remained silent, save for the hiss of the air circulating through the vents, and the hum of the overhead lights. If Ross hadn’t felt singled out before, today changed all of that. Between Stanley triple-circling Ross’s name on the Abilities list, and Kat looking at him like she pitied him instead of despised him, Ross couldn’t have felt any more uncomfortable than he already was.

“And what is it you can do again?” He bit out, a distinctive gruffness in his voice.

Kat rolled her eyes, but her cheeks reddened a little, like the question either embarrassed her or she was ashamed of it. We all looked at her. We knew it was energy related, Sophie had told us as much, but beyond that, we had no idea. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I’ve used it once, and I’ll never use it again to find out.”

Ross glared at her. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means it’s not important,” she growled. “And if you’re so fucking worried about it, you can bring Sophie in here and have her pick my brain to convince you that you don’t have to worry about it, Ross. But I’m not talking about it.”

No one moved, but I could imagine everyone was dying to know what she could do, or at least, what she’d done to scare herself from using it.

“Look,” Kat started again, leveling her gaze on Ross. “Trust me or don’t, but I’m not the bad guy. I didn’t wake up one morning in my soft, warm bed and learn the fucking world ended.” She glanced around at all of us, her shoulders squared and her tone hard, almost defiant. “I didn’t pull my hair up in pigtails and skip all the way over here either. I’ve been fighting to survive every damn day, just like the rest of you, so don’t talk to me like I’m trying to fuck you guys over or something. This summit is what you’ve all been working for—you want to go too.” Finally, Ross met her gaze. “Now that I know JJ is here and safe, I’m going back with or without you.”

Ross eyed her a moment longer, clenched his jaw, then seemed to relent the slightest bit. “What about the military?” Ross asked. “You think these people are good people—they could be, who knows—but are you forgetting they’re the ones that set all of this in motion to begin with? If one of them gets some batshit, hairbrained idea to take something that isn’t theirs, or hurt one of you, you’ll need to be ready for that—you’ll need a contingency plan.” He looked back down at the disassembled pistol in front of him. “We haven’t survived this long without one, and it would be stupid to go in there unprepared.”

“We’ll prepare for it,” Jackson said, and Elle walked into the cafeteria, Thea shuffling in behind her.

“Can I take a new sleeping bag to Aria?” Thea asked, peering up at Elle. Both of them had their arms full of them.

“What? No—sorry, sweetie,” she whispered. “They need them for their trip. We’ll get another one for her next time we go into town, okay?”

“Well,” Bert said, smacking his hand on the tabletop. The sound ricocheted through the vacuous room. “We still have a supply list to make, and tasks to divvy out. I’m going to take a piss break.”

“I need to speak with JJ,” Kat added, stepping down from her perch on the tabletop. She didn’t like to sit much; in fact, she was almost always standing, or sitting on the top of the table, like chairs were only a suggestion. I kind of liked that about her. “And I desperately need more coffee,” she muttered, grabbing her empty mug.

“Was it something I said?” Elle teased as she walked up behind me.

“Just a break.” I stood, stretching my arms above my head with a yawn.

“It’s been that exciting, huh?”

“Productive might be a better word,” I told her.

Elle glanced at the map on the table, her eyes darting between the circled and starred locations.

“Thanks to Kat, we have a good understanding of what we’re walking into.” I wanted Elle to know we were being careful, even if I knew she would worry, regardless.

She lifted her chin in understanding, studying the map a moment longer before her gaze flicked back to me. “I’m glad you’re excited for this trip,” she said. “And I hope you get the answers you’re looking for.”

“Answers to what?”

She shrugged. “You tell me.”

“I’m just curious, Elle. Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “I’m curious. And fearful of what happens when an entire city learns about us—about our hidden oasis here.”

“We have to try, though, right?” It felt pivotal to everything we were doing.

Elle reached for my shoulder, her squeeze gentle and reassuring, and she pursed her lips. “Yes, I agree that we do. But please, don’t be reckless, Alex. Jackson needs you—we all need you, and we want you to come home. If you decide to, that is.”

I frowned. “I’ll be home with everyone else,” I told her. “That’s the plan, at least.” I remembered what Sophie said about my empty promises, and I didn’t want to lie to Elle. While I was open to having a life elsewhere, Whitehorse was my home. If I stayed in Prince Rupert, or anywhere else for that matter, I’d be leaving the only family I’d ever had. They wouldn’t be leaving me this time, and that felt so ass-backwards, my heart raced in my chest, and I felt an overwhelming need to stay. “I’m not running away,” I thought aloud. “But I have to go. I have to see what’s out there and—”

“I know,” Elle said softly. Her eyes were shimmering and soft, and a small, understanding smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I’ll miss you though.” With another squeeze, she dropped her hand back to her side. “And you know I’ll worry,” she added. “So don’t be gone too long, if you can help it.”

“I won’t.”

“Well,” she sighed, and nodded to the pile of supplies she’d already gathered for us to take. “Since you’re all leaving in a few days, we’ll stay here tonight, and make as much progress as we can.”

“Come on, squiggles.” She motioned for Thea to follow her back out the door, then Elle paused. “Hey, Alex, can I offer one piece of advice?”

“Of course.”

She tilted her head, and a faraway look flashed across her face. “Dr. Rothman, a friend of mine, once told me that everyone has monsters. Ones we don’t talk about or want to think about ever again. But only we can give them power over us. I know you gauge your future a lot from your past, but don’t let your monsters and your fears—that have taken so much from your childhood already—take away from your future happiness as well. We’ve all been gifted a second chance.” Elle turned for the door.

“Elle, thanks,” I said. And while I appreciated the sentiment, I couldn’t help but wonder if Dr. Rothman knew just how applicable those words would be one day, when there were actual monsters out there. Or what I was supposed to do when it wasn’t shadows I feared, but heartbreak.

47

Sophie

As I sat in my cell, staring at the cement walls with no windows—a stark contrast to my bedroom at home— I wondered how many nights Alex had spent in a room like this growing up. Alone. Maybe even scared. Or, maybe juvie was better than being anywhere else, because it was safe and reliable. And he definitely hadn’t had all of the stuff that littered my temporary room. A plush pillow and down comforter on my twin bed. A penholder and stack of books—even here, my notebooks were scattered around on the floor.

Everyone was either in bed already, or still in the cafeteria, planning. I didn’t want to sleep though. It was pointless to try. Instead, I stared at a book about Whitehorse, about the First Nations villages that surrounded it. We hadn’t seen any survivors, at least none that had been untouched or tainted by the Virus, like Jade, Del, and Took. White man’s disease had taken on a whole new meaning now, but I wondered if there were others like them, other normals.

Soft footsteps echoed in the dimly lit hall, then Phil poked his head through the door. “Good, you’re still up.”

“Hey, yeah. I—”

“Couldn’t sleep, I know. I thought I’d come keep you company for a bit.” Phil stepped inside with a six-pack of Squirt, my favorite soda pop, and he lifted a paper bag. “I brought junk food.”

My eyes brightened—no, my entire face did—and I smiled. “Wow, what’s the occasion?” I pushed my book aside and sat up on the edge of my bed, patting the seat beside me.

“Well, you’re here, first of all, which rarely happens anymore, and I want things to feel normal between us again, so . . .”

“That sounds amazing.” If my Phil dreams were more like this—about the real us, and how easy and natural it felt—I would be able to sleep for days.

“So,” he said with waggling eyebrows, “I brought some sustenance to get us through the night.”

“My knight in shining armor,” I cooed as he opened the paper bag and dumped the contents on my bedspread. “Holy hell.” I gulped. “That’s a lot of candy.” There were packages of peanut M&Ms, Sugar Babies, Sour Patch Kids, lollipops—you name it, Phil had it—and my mouth watered. “Don’t let Thea see those lollipops, or she might knife you for them.”

Phil smirked. “It’s my own personal stash, and you’re welcome to have whatever you fancy.”

“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe,” I breathed, nearly overwhelmed. It wasn’t that we couldn’t get candy, but we never asked for it. Well, none of us but Thea, because it wasn’t important when they were out scavenging. “I sort of forgot about candy,” I realized aloud.

“Say what? How is that possible? I’m a candy fiend, and that will never change.” He waved to the rainbow of wrappings. “Seriously, have whatever you want.”

He didn’t have to tell me again. I snatched up the bag of Sugar Babies and tore it open, unable to stop smiling. “This is an unexpected surprise,” I mused.

Phil chose a package of assorted Now and Laters, and winked at me. “I like the chewies the best, too.” He bent over and grabbed two Squirts, handing one to me.

“Don’t tell me Squirt is your favorite soda as well,” I said. “That would be quite a coincidence.”

He shook his head and popped a blueberry taffy into his mouth. “No, it’s yours though,” he said through a blue-toothed grin.

“Who told you?”

“A birdie,” he said. “But I can’t tell you more, sorry. I don’t want to jeopardize my source.”

Smiling, I leaned back against the wall beside him. I wondered if he’d gleaned it from my memories, since I didn’t close myself off from him. It didn’t matter to me though, and I popped a few caramel soft chews in my mouth. “I forgot about these, I have no idea how. They were always my favorite.”

“Yeah, well, there are two things that are a staple for me still—junk food and old car magazines.”

“You like cars?” I knew about sports teams and his family. I knew about his claustrophobia, and that he’d had a few girlfriends in high school, but nothing ever very serious. I knew he liked action movies, and that cats made him uneasy because of how sly they always seemed to be. But that he liked cars—strangely, I hadn’t known.

“I’ve always had a soft spot for them since my dad was a big car guy back in the day.” I knew his dad had died in a car accident, when he was little, but I’d never tried to pry much more than that. “I had his work uniform at home, and some of his old magazines. The garage was full of his stuff. I told my mom to keep them for me, in case I got into mechanics, but I never really did.”

Phil spoke about his father more easily than I would have, especially since he had such fond memories. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

Phil fidgeted with his empty candy wrapper, then forced a smile. “They said it was instant and he probably felt minimal pain, which is better than how it would’ve ended for him, if it had been the Virus instead.”

The sad part was, it was likely true.

“But that’s not what I want to talk about,” he said. “What are some of the things you liked to read—let me guess, Cosmopolitan and Teen Vogue.”

I glared at him. “Stereotype much?”

He shrugged. “Sorry, those are the only girl magazines I know. It’s what my sister used to read.” His round cheeks flushed a little and he looked away again.

“Well,” I said, unable to hold that against him, “I have read Cosmo a few times. Well, I guess only once. I was sixteen and my mom found it in my bedroom and freaked out. She lectured me on boys and how I needed to be careful, like I was some harlot.” I chuckled at the thought, then instantly reddened, flashing back to my dreams about Phil in my bed. Even if it had only been a dream, it felt almost as real, and shameful in a way—dreaming about Phil, kissing Phil, but loving Alex.

I shoved another handful of candy into my mouth to distract myself. “Anyway, you would’ve thought it was a Playboy or something.”

“Now, there’s an image,” Phil muttered. “Sophie reading a Playboy.” We laughed, and it felt good to let out a little nervous energy.

The sound of our taffy smacking filled my cell, and we sat in companionable silence for a moment. It was so easy being around him, save for my mortification should he learn how much he was on my mind, but even then, he would blush and crack a joke and move on.

“Do you like living here at the prison?” I popped more chews into my mouth and waited for him to answer. I’d always been interested in how Phil fit in with Stanley and Woody, especially with such an age gap between him and the two of them.

Phil shrugged. “It’s fine. Big, and a little lonely sometimes, but I know I’m lucky to be here.”

“You can always stay with us. We have the extra cabins,” I said, pulling my leg up and turning to look at him.

“Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

“I’m serious. You wouldn’t have to stay here with Stanley and Woody, who are always lost in their own little worlds. And Ross is always going back and forth.”

Phil’s easiness faded, and a thoughtful expression pinched his brow. “What does it mean, that he’s leaving?” he asked.

“Who?”

He looked at me. “Alex. I know you guys have been through a lot, and I can fill in the holes most of the time, but now what?”

“It means nothing. He’s leaving, I’m staying, and things will be as they’ve always been.”

“Which is what, exactly?” Phil’s warm, caramel-colored eyes held a curiosity, but also hurt. Just like he had known how I felt about him, I knew how he felt about me. For the first time, it dawned on me how hard this might be for him, and how selfish I’d been, even if it was unintentional.

“Alex and I are friends, I guess—very complicated friends. We can’t be more than that. I know that now.” Saying the words out loud made my stomach drop and my throat tighten with sour regret, but it was true.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You don’t have to say anything, Phil. I can’t believe you’re still my friend after all I’ve put you through—”

“But I am sorry, Sophie. And I am your friend. Alex gets under my skin, but I see how much it all affects you, trust me, and I don’t want that for you.”

My eyes nearly clouded with tears. “Why are you so damn nice?” I asked. “Why are you so understanding? Do you have a mean or selfish bone in your body?”

“Of course I do.” His mouth quirked up in the corner with a half shrug. “I dunno. I’m dumb, I guess.” He nudged my shoulder, then sobered a little. “It feels wrong to push you, so it is what it is.”

“Yeah, but why? Why are you so worried about me? What about what you want? You should be going to Hartley Bay to meet new people or something, instead of being stuck here, with me.”

“I guess—” He licked his lips and stared down at his mangled candy wrapper again. “I guess it all just feels too good to be true—finding Woody, you guys, the General being dead. I’m here with all of you, alive. I’m healthy. And I’m just happy to be here for now, and to be your friend, if that’s how it needs to be.”

“Oh geez,” I teased.

“I know, totally sappy,” he rolled his eyes, but I reached for his hand.

His brow furrowed then gave way to surprise as I allowed him to feel my adoration—a little something of me. My love for him as a friend, and a smidgeon of the something I felt for him, though I did my best to keep the dreams under lock and key. “I’m glad to know you too, Phil. You’re a really, really good friend.” Unable to sit in the weight of the moment any longer, I dipped a quick nod to the candy minefield on my bed. “And you’ve officially won me over bringing in all of this candy.”

“Well,” he said with a grin. “We have all night. So, which candy, pray tell, will you choose next?”

* * *

I woke to the tickle of something on the back of my neck, and then the feeling of arms wrapped around me. Blinking my eyes open, I stared at the candy wrappers littering the floor of my cell. Then, I glanced down at Phil’s arm draped over me, his thermal shirt bunched up by his elbow, and my heart began to race. We’d fallen asleep with the lights on and everything.

Phil was sleeping in my bed. And it wasn’t a dream this time. The only guy I’d ever literally slept in bed with was Alex, with Beau and Thea’s arms and legs tangled between us. Even if I knew this was nothing like my dream, it still felt intimate, or too close to the truth, and I felt a sudden urge to flee.

Quick footsteps approached and before I could move, Beau stepped into the doorway, his face instantly contorting. “Ew,” he said.

“Shut up,” I said, lifting Phil’s arm off of me. “We were just sleeping.” I sat up and blinked around my room and into the hallway. “Wait . . .” Was it possible I’d actually slept through the night? Did I actually feel rested?

“Elle wanted me to ask if you want to go into Whitehorse for anything. They’re about to leave.” Beau’s eyes shifted from Phil’s smooshed, sleeping face, back to me. “Well?”

“No, I’m good.” I was too relieved to worry about Whitehorse.

“Whatever,” Beau grumbled, and he turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall. The sound of his footsteps clacked behind him.

I glanced behind me, at Phil. His long lashes fluttered in his sleep. However it had happened, I’d slept through the night, dreamless. My body felt lighter than before, rejuvenated in a way it hadn’t in a long time, and I couldn’t stop grinning. In fact, I was damn near giddy.

Phil stirred and stretched in my bed, his eyes lazily peeling open. “Why are you smiling like a crazy person?” he asked through a yawn.

“Because,” I told him, unable to contain my excitement. “I don’t know what you put in that candy, but I slept—all night long.”

48

Alex

Ross and I drove through Riverdale, to the stockpile of supplies we’d left in the shed behind the gym. Among the food, clothes, and camping gear, we’d left guns—a lot of them. Riverdale was the one location we had that we could really fend off, so we’d made sure it was well supplied and ready for hard times. Hard times that never came, and now we needed some of the ammo for our trip.

Kat shifted in the bed of the truck, and I glanced at her through the side mirror. She said she could use the fresh air, so she’d opted to sit in the back, but I figured it was to keep some distance between her and Ross, more than anything.

Her hair blew in the wind, and her face was less pensive when no one was looking, like she didn’t have to put on a brave face or a hard front, which she tended to do often. It only made me more curious about her. Had Kat ever been happy in her life? I thought that might be why she clung so much to JJ.

“What’s up with you?”

I looked at Ross. “Nothing. Why, what’s up with you?”

“You’re not brooding again, are you?”

“Brooding? No. That’s Beau’s forte.”

He glanced at me, his eyebrows raised in question, but he didn’t say anything else.

“Dude, I’m not. Seriously. Why would I be brooding?”

“I thought maybe with Phil being in Sophie’s room this morning—”

I tried as hard as I could not to give my surprise away, and it might’ve worked, if Ross hadn’t known me better. I wasn’t even sure if it was surprise anymore—more like sadness.

“Shit,” Ross muttered, but we said no more than that. I didn’t need to think about Sophie and Phil. I was leaving. Whatever happened next is how it would be. I repeated that to myself over and over as we pulled into the parking lot of the gym, trying to convince myself I didn’t care.

“Let’s get this over with,” Ross said, and the truck jolted to a stop. Kat muttered a curse from the back, and Ross looked a little too pleased with himself as he pushed the driver side door open and climbed out.

As I got out of the truck, Kat jumped out of the back, then she handed me my rifle, ignoring Ross completely.

“Thank you,” I told her, but really I wanted to fade out of existence when I was around the two of them. It felt like even when they were silent, they were arguing with each other.

Kat pulled her pistol out of her holster and glanced toward the gym. “Lead the way, Hot Stuff,” she said with a wink.

“You heard about that did you,” I groused, and Kat smirked in answer.

Kat followed us around the back of the gym, to the storage unit where we’d hidden all of our things, and the moment we rounded the building, our ease evaporated. The door to the storage unit was open.

“What the fuck,” Ross bit out, and lifted his pistol as he drew closer.

“I take it that’s not how you left it,” Kat muttered, and like me, she raised her gun and swept the surrounding area for onlookers.

Ross flung the shed door all the way open; the metal clanging on the steel siding echoed in the vacant alleyway.

“Well, if they didn’t know we were here before, they do now,” Kat said under her breath, and I tried to ignore her. If people found our stuff, they wouldn’t only be well fed, they’d be heavily armed.

“What the hell . . .” Ross stepped inside the shed and lowered his weapon.

I glanced one more time around us, seeing nothing but apartment buildings down the street, and an empty car lot surrounding the left side of the gym, then lowered my rifle and stepped inside behind him.

Light filtered in through the doorway, illuminating the storage we’d spent a couple days organizing months ago. I wasn’t sure what to think. The shelves we’d set up were pilfered through, some empty MRE bags and boxes of crackers were discarded on the ground. The rest of the food—the water jugs and preserves, the cans of vegetables and meats—was all gone. The shelves were mostly empty.

I picked up four cans of tuna left on one of the shelves.

“I guess fish wasn’t their thing,” Kat said.

One of the weapon trunks squeaked as Ross opened it and crouched down. It was still loaded with our weapons and ammo.

“Good thing it was locked,” I said, breathing with a heavy sigh of relief.

Ross opened the second trunk and looked at me. “They weren’t.”

I stepped closer. Glocks, Winchesters, Berettas—even a few knives—filled the inside. “You mean, they ate all of the food but didn’t take any weapons?” I didn’t understand.

“At least not very many, if they did. There’s an armory’s worth still in here.”

I shook my head, weirded out that someone had been in the shed to begin with, and confused as to why they’d left precious weapons behind. That they might’ve had such a strong Ability they didn’t think they needed them, made me feel nauseous.

“They were just hungry,” Kat said. “There are worse things.”

Ross’s gaze darted to her, pointed and accusing.

“What?” she snapped. “There are. Or are you somehow implying this was me?”

“I wasn’t, but now—”

“You seriously think I had something to do with this?”

“You said it, not me.”

“Trust me,” she sneered. “The food and clothes would be the last thing I would take. So back off.”

He rose to his feet. “Or what?”

Kat stepped forward, her cheeks reddening and her arms so straight at her side I thought she might launch straight for him. “What the fuck is your problem, Ross? What is it about me that rubs you the wrong way? Do I look like a fucking ex-girlfriend or something? Did she do you wrong?”

“Stop talking,” he demanded. “Now.”

“Not until you tell me what—”

“Kat.” I tried to warn her that talking about anything remotely close to Kelsey wasn’t a good idea. Though, the more I thought about it, the more I realized Kat did look like her a little. I remembered photos of them at Ross’s house when we were staying there in Anchorage. She had Kat’s blonde hair and blue eyes.

“You’re my problem.” He straightened, rage lighting his eyes. “You show up on Elle’s sister’s coattails, but nothing about you makes any sense.”

“Oh, because you’re an open book,” she growled at him.

“You know far more about me than I’m comfortable with,” he spat back. “You refuse to talk about your Ability. Just about everything you say is vague. And I know you’re hiding something—”

“I’m not hiding anything—”

“You’re fucking lying! And unlike everyone else, desperate to learn about Hartley and blindly trusting you, I don’t. You have to earn it.”

“Back off, Ross, or I swear to God,” she gritted out.

“You’ll what? Shoot me?” The closer they inched to one another the more I worried a gun would be drawn, because neither of them were backing down. “Tell me what you’re hid—”

“JJ’s dying!” she shouted at him.

My gun nearly slipped from my fingers.

“Are you happy now? She’s fucking sick, and she’s going to die. We were staying in Hartley Bay because I’ve been trying to find answers so I can save her, and now that the summit is actually happening in Prince Rupert, I’m going to keep searching. I don’t care about your fucking food and your damn weapons. I care about JJ.”

Even Ross looked stricken, his face paler and his arms hanging heavily at his side.

Kat glanced from Ross to me, her eyes hard and her jaw clenched. “There are ramifications for bringing someone back from the dead, and I don’t know what I did, but it’s my fault, and I’m trying to fucking save her.” Her words filled the air and clung to my throat.

I didn’t know what to say. And if Ross did, he said nothing.

“If you want to break the news to Elle, then be my guest. I won’t be the one to do it.” Straightening, Kat shook her head and walked out of the shed, leaving Ross and me standing in the middle of a mess of wrappers and discarded bins, stunned.

It must’ve been why JJ looked so much older than Elle. She was reborn tired and broken, a shell of who she was.

“What do we do?” I looked at Ross. He stared after Kat’s outline as she stalked away. Elle needed to know, right?

“Nothing,” Ross said with a heavy sigh. “We do nothing and hope that JJ tells her the truth soon. Or that Kat finds her answers at the summit. It’s not our place to say anything, not yet at least.”

I nodded, grateful he’d said it and not me. As much as I wanted Elle to know, I wanted to spare her the truth for as long as possible, too.

Running my hand over my head and down my face, I peered around at the musty storage. “And what about all of this?”

That seemed to jumpstart Ross back into task-mode, and he grabbed one end of the weapon trunk. “Even if they just wanted food and clothes, this place is compromised. We get all the weapons out of here and never come back to this location.”

But Ross had a glazed look in his eyes as he said it, like he was on autopilot. Thinking about death had that effect on him, I’d noticed, like a visceral sensation settled over him every time. And when he glanced out the doorway again, I began to wonder if there wasn’t regret I saw in his eyes too.

49

Elle

“You have transformed the facility into a home in many ways,” Jenny noted, as we each lugged a box of food to the loading bay in the bus yard. It was a back part of the compound a couple dozen meters from the prison, and with each step, Jenny seemed to find something new that caught her attention, something more curious than the last.

“The inside feels less . . . fearsome than the outside.” She squinted out at the stark, front landscape. It was only pavement and dirt, and a never-ending fence line, with nothing beyond to block our views or compromise our defenses. “Out here, it actually feels like a fortress.”

“Yes, well, since some of us spend so much time here, it’s important they feel settled inside, like it’s home. Especially since there is so much of the prison we don’t use. It can feel too big.” Our feet crunched through the gravel as we drew closer to the loading area. “They’ve done what they can to make it all feel a bit smaller.” I shrugged. “Truth be told, I can’t imagine living here. It’s still a bit ominous to me, but then again, I rarely visit the prison. The house keeps me plenty busy.”

I tried to look at the building as Jenny saw it; all sharp edges, razor wire, and metal lined fencing. “But out here . . . yes, it’s more of a fortress. We were preparing for the worst for a long time.”

Jenny’s eyes drifted to mine, and I saw sympathy in them, and exhaustion. But really, the sympathy I had was for her. There was still so much I didn’t know about her, and despite how resolved she seemed to be about her life now, I knew it couldn’t be easy.

Stepping out of the afternoon sun, into the shade of the loading bay, we set our boxes off to the side with the other provisions for the summit trip.

“There are only a few more boxes, and then we can see what else still needs to be done on the list.”

We turned back for the facility. “Elle,” Jenny said, and she paused beside me. “Are you happy here?”

I looked at her thoughtful expression, surprised by her question, and curious why she’d asked it. “Yes, I am,” I said, nodding without hesitation.

She assessed my face, perhaps looking for a hint of uncertainty.

“I’ve never been happier in my life,” I admitted. The Jenny of my childhood would understand why, but it wasn’t as if we needed to rehash the hard stuff from a past she couldn’t remember.

Jenny’s lips parted in a small smile, and for the first time, instead of looking thoughtful or concerned, she looked pleased. “Good.”

One of the side doors of the prison opened and Phil and Sophie came out with boxes in their arms. Sophie wasn’t just smiling, but laughing, which I hadn’t seen in a while. I assumed Phil was the difference. Regardless of the reason, it pleased me.

Old Rusty, the adopted prison dog, came jogging out behind them; his fluffy, collie dog tail wagging from all of the excitement around the facility in the past twenty-four hours. He ran up to Jenny, his tan snout nudging her hand with a lick.

“He likes you,” Phil said. “He only gets that excited when he sees, well, me.” He beamed with pride.

Jenny opened her palm so Rusty could sniff her. With a nudge and a tongue hanging out of his mouth, he peered up at her waiting for the affection he clearly felt he deserved.

Jenny looked at me. “There were dogs in Hartley Bay,” she explained, “but I am not certain I ever pet one before.”

“Well then,” Phil said with a chuckle, “Rusty would happily be your first.”

Amusement lit her eyes, and like a small child seeing a rainbow for the first time, she reached out and pet the tuft around his neck.

Phil flashed his famous grin. “He’s a good old mutt—he can’t hear all that well, but he’s a keeper.”

As he and Sophie continued to the loading bay, the gate gears grumbled to life and it began to open.

“They’re back.” I headed for the Chevy as it rolled into the lot, glancing at Jenny as she followed beside me.

Kat jumped out of the back before the truck came to a stop, and the passenger door opened. Alex climbed out next, but the moment his eyes met mine, they shot to Jenny and he looked away. He walked swiftly to the back of the truck and lifted one of the plastic bins into his arms. Kat did the same. She moved hastily and barely spared us a glance as she began to unload.

It didn’t take an Einstein to notice that something had happened while they were out there, and if I had to guess, it was that something unpleasant between Ross and Kat.

“Let’s see if we can’t help them get this done a little faster,” I muttered, and we made our way over to the truck. We passed Alex and Kat as they hauled a few boxes over to the loading bay, and when I got to the truck, I stopped beside Ross as he pulled a duffle bag from the back.

“Is it just me or did you bring winter back with you?”

He paused mid-motion before he looked at Jenny for a split-second, then he continued to unload. “What’s that mean?” he asked, stacking one crate on top of another.

“It means I can feel the ice wafting off of all of you. What’s with the gloomy faces?”

“Oh, that,” he said, and whether it was a silent explanation or purely automatic, Ross glanced at Kat walking back from the loading bay. She hurried toward Jenny, who was lifting one of the crates Ross had unloaded.

“Those are heavy,” Kat reprimanded, taking it from Jenny’s grasp.

I glared at Ross. “What happened?” I whispered. “Did you argue?”

Ross’s gaze lingered on the two of them a moment longer, then finally, he looked at me. “I was going to wait and tell Jackson, but—”

“But?”

“The shed was pilfered,” he said quietly. “Someone has been in there and all the food is gone.”

I swallowed. I hadn’t expected him to say that. “What? And the weapons—”

“We have them, but still. Someone knew our supplies were there and they broke the lock to get in. It could’ve been months ago, or a matter of weeks. The door was open so there was dust everywhere. With the elements, it’s hard to tell how long it’s been.”

That was unnerving to say the least. “And the others—”

“We checked two of the others and they were fine. I didn’t have time to check them all though.”

“How could anyone have known about it?” It made no sense how they could’ve found it. Or who they were.

“They might’ve been desperate for a place to sleep,” he said with a grunt as he heaved the duffle bags over his shoulders. But Ross and I both knew that wasn’t likely. There were a hundred places they could’ve slept. They didn’t need to get into that shed, not unless they knew what was in there.

“Ross,” I said. I grabbed a crate and hurried to catch up with him. “Does that mean someone was watching us?” I knew the answer could have been yes, and there was no way to know for sure, but somehow, I hoped he’d be able to explain it as a fluke. That there was no danger. That all was well.

“Elle.” He turned to face me. “You have other things to worry about,” he said, though the moment he said it, his brow crumpled a little, and he shook his head. “I mean, you don’t have to worry about this. Whoever it was would’ve taken the weapons if they were dangerous. And it could’ve happened months ago.”

I nodded, because all of that did make me feel better, even if the pit of my stomach burned with the sour taste of fear—fear for the first time in a long time.

“I am fine,” Jenny growled at Kat as she took another crate from her arms. I hadn’t seen Kat so agitated, or Jenny so frustrated before. “Stop fussing please—”

“Kat,” I said, uncertain why she was so adamant that Jenny not help. “Jenny’s been very helpful while you’ve been gone. She’s capable, I promise you.”

“Well, she should be more careful,” Kat said coolly, her gaze leveled on Jenny.

“Kat!” Ross called. “Grab those duffle bags, will you?” It was more of a command than a question, and after a few tension-filled heartbeats, Kat walked to the truck.

Kat strode away with more indignation than usual. “Why is she so worried about you?” I glanced at my sister.

Jenny rested her hand on her forehead and blew out a breath; another one of the more human things she did sometimes. “She worries about me is all,” she explained. “I have not been as strong as I once was, not since the Virus.”

Frowning, my heart palpitated a little, and I tried to subdue the rising panic. “What does that mean, Jenny?”

She looked at me, her brow unfurrowed as she took in my concern, and she smiled. It was weak and false, the way it was when we were younger and Dr. John took his aggression out on her. The same expression on a familiar face, but with starkly different eyes. It was as if my sister was trying to be strong, and as much as I should’ve appreciated the gesture, it instilled a renewed sense of fear in me instead.

As everyone scurried around the lot, my world stood still. “Jenny . . .”

She pried her gaze away from Kat, and looked at me. Really looked at me. “I get fatigued sometimes,” she said. “I have fainted a couple times. It worries her, is all.”

“Of course it does. Why didn’t you say something?”

Jenny stared at me so long I nearly snapped. “Because,” she finally said. “I like that none of you fuss over me the way she does,” she admitted. “I already know I am broken. A daily reminder does not help.”

“Well—I guess I understand that,” I admitted. “But she only worries because she cares.”

“I know,” Jenny breathed. Her gaze flicked to Kat again. “Sometimes I wonder if she cares more than she should.”

I already knew their relationship was complicated, especially since Kat’s memories of their relationship would never match Jenny’s. “You’ll tell me though, won’t you,” I said, “If you’re not feeling well? I don’t want you to overdo it.”

Jenny scratched the side of her face, another telltale sign—a gesture she’d had when we were younger and her thoughts were going in a dozen different directions.

“Yes,” she finally promised. “I will tell you when the time comes.” She continued toward the truck.

It was a strange response, but then, Jenny was strange to me most of the time. And instinctively, I knew I had to trust her.

50

Alex

I stood by Sophie’s rock at the river’s edge, still uncertain why I’d asked her to meet me down here. I told myself it was because I was leaving tomorrow, and I had learned a nagging secret I had to tell my best friend. Then I told myself it wasn’t because of what I’d learned about JJ, but that there were things to say before I left. I wasn’t sure if they were regrets as much as they were truths I wanted her to know, in case something happened.

I thought I’d told her everything I needed to the other night when we were here, but now that I was actually leaving, that felt like a lie. Elle’s advice about monsters and untainted futures had stuck with me, and I needed to make sure I wasn’t running from my future because of my past.

The never-setting sun illuminated the mountain peaks in the distance, and the shimmering orange and pink clouds were a glaring reflection on the river’s surface. I wondered if the sunsets would be the same in Prince Rupert, or if I needed to soak those in for later too.

The bushes rustled across the water, and I stirred from thoughts of homesickness, though I hadn’t even left yet. Squinting through the glare of colors, I expected to see the wolves trotting along the water’s edge, making their nightly rounds of the property, but there was nothing there.

“Hey,” Sophie said, coming up behind me. I turned around, my arms unfolding and falling to my sides, pleasantly surprised to notice she was smiling. “I saw your note.”

“Yeah, I didn’t see you in the house, so I figured you’d get it eventually.”

“I was going through the garage with Phil, looking for the extra bungee cords,” she explained.

I’d been trying not to think about what Ross alluded to in the truck, but as always, what I knew about their developing relationship reared its ugly head again.

“Don’t worry, it’s still not what you think.”

I shook my head. “I’m not thinking anything.”

“Liar,” she said with a smirk, and she walked past me. Her long hair swayed around her as she climbed up onto the boulder to sit down.

“You seem . . . good today,” I said, wondering if Phil was the difference. “You seem better.”

Sophie inhaled a long, deep breath, holding it in her lungs before her eyes flitted shut, and she let it out. “I do feel better. I got a full night’s sleep, which hasn’t happened in . . . I don’t know how long.”

That she was smiling made me resent Phil a little less. “I’m glad.” I climbed up and sat beside her, even if I’d told myself it was probably a bad idea. Not because I was worried about us touching, not anymore, but because proximity—being so close to her—always made things harder. “I’m glad things are finally working themselves out. It seems like all the practicing with Stanley and Phil has really started to pay off.”

She snorted and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I wouldn’t go that far. My dreams are still . . . off. It’s only been one night,” she said with a sideways glance. “But I’m hopeful, so we’ll see how it goes. It’s amazing what a single night of real freaking sleep can do. I think it really pulled me out of my own head, which I get lost in too much.”

I looked away, and permanently scratched the JJ concern off my list of things to tell her. Sophie didn’t need to worry about Elle and JJ; she didn’t need more secrets to weigh her down, especially if she was finally getting sleep.

“What did you want to meet about?” she asked more quietly. She tilted her head to look at me. “Are you having second thoughts about leaving?” Her eyebrows lifted slightly, and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. I wasn’t sure if it was a worrisome quirk in this instance, or something more hopeful than that.

“Why, do you want me to stay?”

She shrugged and looked out at the water. “I don’t want you to leave, even if we agreed it’s for the best. There’s a difference in knowing you’re at the plant or the prison, and knowing you’re hundreds of miles away . . . and might not come back.”

“I’ll come back.”

“Eventually,” she said. “I have a feeling you’re going to find exactly what you need there, though, and it might be a while before I see you again.”

“You think?”

She slowly nodded. “I do.” She was quiet a moment, then she sighed. “So then, what’s up?”

“I guess I just wanted to say goodbye to you before I left. Really say goodbye.” And I wanted to see the sun reflecting in her eyes and memorize the bow of her lips.

Slowly, her eyes drifted to me and a small smile curved her lips. “I’m glad,” she admitted. Our gazes drifted over the river. Somehow, this had become our place, even if it didn’t hold all the best memories. At least I’d be able to remember her here, us here, in companionable silence. As friends.

Sophie tucked her hair behind her ears again, and with a quirk of a grin, she said, “I’ve been thinking about the broom closet a lot lately.”

“The what?”

Her head tilted and she looked at me, expectant. “You know, the broom closet in Whitely? You followed me in when I was hiding from my mom.”

“Oh shit.” I grinned at the memory. “You pretended not to like it very much.”

She smacked my arm, and I felt a warm jolt. We both looked at her hand, our smiles wavering momentarily, and as if we both gave up caring in the same moment, we peered back out at the water.

“I thought you were so mysterious,” she said with far too much amusement.

I scoffed with mock offense. “I was mysterious, thank you very much. Ask any of the girls in your class.”

“I wish I could,” she said nostalgically. “Except for Jeannie.”

“Why? You didn’t like Jeannie?”

She balked. “God no, she was horrible . . . and I was jealous,” she confessed.

I leaned away, shocked at the thought. Sophie, jealous of Jeannie? That seemed ridiculous. “Why the hell were you jealous?”

“Because of the way she could make her hips move,” she confessed again, a little reluctant. When she caught my grin, she rolled her eyes. “She had all the right curves, and I didn’t like the way you looked at her.”

My heart thumped like a double base against my chest, and I almost laughed at Sophie’s ridiculousness, and to cover my utter surprise. Even before my unexpected and grand gesture of buying her that pregnancy test, she saw something in me, even if it was just misplaced mystery.

“You never had anything to worry about,” I reassured her. “You were the one I followed for lunch, not her. Remember?”

She gaped at me. “You followed me? I thought—you said you were buying lunch.”

“So did you,” I reminded her. The more I thought about it, a part of me missed the Whitely days too. “I guess we were both liars.”

Her blue eyes scanned my face, as if she was seeing me for the first time, like a veil of truth had lifted and we might actually find common ground before I left. It was like a weight lifting off my chest.

“Don’t look so surprised,” I said, glancing away.

“But I am surprised. Stunned, actually. I didn’t even think you noticed me or cared much. You were just a nice guy, and an unexpected friend when I needed one.”

It hadn’t been as coincidental as that. Sophie intrigued me the moment I first saw her. “You’re right when you say we’re meant to be in some way, Soph. I feel it too, I just—” I had to steady my breath in order to force the words out. Everything out of my mouth would sway the way things would be left between us, and I didn’t want to screw things up. “I think it’s just not in the way you’ve been thinking. Either of us, for that matter.”

Sophie trailed a blade of wild grass over her jean-covered thigh as her thoughts drifted far away. Maybe to Whitely, or to the summit. Maybe even to Phil. All I could think was that I needed us to be okay before I left, and I was relieved that asking her to meet me had been the right thing to do.

“I told you I wouldn’t disappear,” I reminded her. “I promised, and I mean it this time. I just hope that, whatever happens with you and Phil, the feeling’s mutual. I can’t imagine my life without you, at least in some way. You’re—”

“Alex.” She said my name in a whisper.

I barely turned my head to look at her before she leaned in and pressed her lips to mine. My body tensed, but the instant her hands gripped my face, a flood of warmth poured through me, loosening every coiled muscle and chasing every apprehension away. I could taste the Chapstick on her lips, and the scent of lemon oil filled my nose. It was like the bulk of the world lifted from my shoulders, and everything was perfect. Suspended. Peaceful.

Images flashed through my mind like a montage of distant, misplaced histories—Re-gens and General Herodson, Sophie’s parents and a childhood in Whitely, snowball fights with Jesse, and the nights we lay in bed in Slana, talking. I saw myself in that broom closet with her, and I saw her sitting in the bathroom with the pregnancy test in her hand, relieved and thinking of me. I saw myself in that hallway, the night we found each other. But it was what she felt about me that lured me in deeper. Hope and desire. Love and affection. Need.

“Alex,” she breathed, but I needed more of her—her mouth, the touch of her hands, her tongue—and I kissed her back harder. Longer. Deeper. I pulled her against me, floating in a euphoric haze that left me feeling sky-high and unstoppable. Nothing in that moment mattered but Sophie and me. And for the first time, I began to realize no amount of distance would ever dissolve the chemistry between us. Nothing either of us said or did would change the way I felt. We were Antony and Cleopatra. Romeo and Juliet. We were made for one another and our epic love story would go down in history.

But as the images and memories continued to flash in the back of my mind, Phil’s face became more and more prominent. It felt almost like an anvil crushing the others out, bringing a sense of desperate want for him with it, even a frustration towards me that felt like a thousand bee stings in my mind. Phil was in her bed again, her hair rumpled. She was kissing him in the barn, then sleeping in her bed with his arms wrapped around her. I felt her unbridled anger toward me—a hatred that cut me to the quick—and a desperation for Phil.

Tearing my eyes open, I pushed Sophie away from me. “Are you fucking serious right now, Sophie?” All of the ease and comfort of having her in my arms splintered, and my pounding heart shuddered and cracked, and the indescribable hurt sunk further in.

“That—that shouldn’t have happened,” she breathed. She looked as dumb as I felt. Then, her face crumpled, but I was too incensed to care why. “I wasn’t even thinking about Phil.”

“Oh, God. Just stop, Sophie.” I jumped down off the rock, done trying to be open and patient. “You can say that you’re confused, but at some point you have to just admit that you and I are done. Stop pretending this fucking thing with Phil is nothing, and just admit it already.” Every word I blurted was like hot air escaping a balloon and I felt a little bit lighter. “I can’t take it anymore. That kiss—”

“Alex—”

“What?” I bit out. “You kiss me and somehow all I see is fucking Phil. You put all that on me, even your hatred toward me, and now I’m supposed to forget about it?” I shook my head, still in disbelief. “I’m done. With all of it.”

“You know I could never hate you,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. Sophie rubbed at her temples like her head might explode. Welcome to the fucking club. “I don’t know why he keeps popping into my head, or why I thought of any of that,” she breathed, almost hysterically. “He’s in my dreams, Alex.” Her voice was barely audible. “You don’t understand.”

“Oh, I think I do.” I groaned and ran my hands over my head, digging my fingers into my skin so I’d feel anything other than my heart breaking.

Sophie climbed down off the rock, but I didn’t offer to help her—I didn’t dare touch her. I couldn’t bear it. “Please don’t hate me.” Her voice was a desperate whisper, and as much as I wanted to hate her in that moment, it gutted me instead. “I know you have every right to, but please—if you hated me I would lose it. It’s hard enough that you’re leaving.”

Tears fell from the brim of her lashes, and even if I knew I had the right to be pissed off, I still couldn’t stand to see her cry. More than that, I hated that somehow this all felt like my fault again, like I’d been too greedy and hoped for too much. “I could never hate you, Sophie,” I assured her as softly as I could, and reminding myself too as I forced my eyes to hers. “But nothing like that will ever happen between us again. Ever.” I wouldn’t survive it.

No more second guessing myself, no more hoping things would change. They wouldn’t, not with Sophie, and I was done having the same conversation with the same fucking outcome. I needed her away from me. I needed to get on that bus and leave this place once and for all.

Her chin trembled, and even in my determination to flee, my instinct was to close the distance between us and somehow make her tears go away. “Soph—”

She hurried past me, almost at a run, and disappeared up the path toward the house.

None of that was what I’d expected, but it was exactly what I needed to break away from her completely. We weren’t destined for an epic love story, only a tragic ending.

51

Sophie

My hands were shaking. My eyes blurred with unshed tears. My heart raced so fast, I couldn’t catch my breath as I paced back and forth by the bridge, hidden from sight. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this, so spun out I could barely breathe. My mind was out of control. My thoughts didn’t feel like my own, but like my own mind was against me.

In one moment, I knew with every single part of me that I wanted Alex to come back to me, because he was mine and I was his, no matter how long it’d taken us to get there. Phil was a shelter in the storm, but Alex was the sun. Now, Alex might never come back, and I didn’t blame him.

I wrung my hands as I retraced my steps, back and forth. I needed to talk to someone. I needed help or divine intervention.

I could be indecisive at times, and it was true that Phil filled a hole that Alex left every time he pushed me away. But I’d made my decision, so why was this happening? Was my Ability clinging to heightened, overripe senses—anything that was too close to the surface? Was I losing my mind like the rest of the lunatics?

Imagining Alex’s expression sent body-wracking sobs through me, and I leaned up against a birch tree to steady myself.

“Sophie?” I barely heard my name across the river. When I opened my eyes, Phil was running over the bridge. “Soph, what happened?”

I shook my head, uncertain how to explain. He wrapped his arms around me, and somehow every ache inside me lessened. Every nerve was soothed. “I want it out of me,” I cried into his shoulder. “I want it to go away.”

“Shh, it’s okay, Sophie, I’m here. I want to help—tell me what I can do to help.”

“I feel so full,” I croaked. “I feel like I’m drowning.”

“Then let it out,” he breathed. “Let go.”

I shook my head, knowing he would never want that, but at the same time, deep down, I knew I should listen to him. Even his touch made the fog clear a little, and the weight on my chest lifted.

Looking into his kind, asking brown eyes, I waited for some sort of confirmation that he was sure, that he could handle it, even if part of me knew I shouldn’t even consider it.

But the decision was made the instant Phil dipped his chin, his gaze pleading with me to let him in, so I did.

Without any other explanation, I cut every thread left of my control, and I opened myself for all of it to pour out of me. Suddenly, I wanted him to see. I needed him to know what was happening, because I was going mad stewing in it alone. I showed him the good parts of me and the ugliest ones. He saw my moments with him—my dreams—and I showed him my kiss with Alex. I let Phil feel all of it, every laugh and regret, every fear and sorrow. I felt myself deflating as I sobbed into his shoulder. His embrace tightened around me even more.

I don’t know how many moments, breaths, or minutes passed, but the longer Phil held me, the lighter I felt. The more I cried, the more my mind began to clear. I felt his own fear and shock, his concern and understanding. More than anything, I could feel his pity and confusion.

Body numb and limbs heavy with exhaustion, I lifted my head and timidly took a step back, afraid to see the look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed. My nose and eyes were swollen, and my lips were chapped. “It was too much—”

“Yes,” he said, his eyebrows lowering. The brightness in his eyes dimmed, and the shadows beneath them seemed to age him by years. Then he shook his head. “It is too much for one person to bear.”

I blinked at him.

“I’m—”

“Mad?”

“Why would I be mad at you? I’m exhausted for you, Sophie. I’m overwhelmed, and I’m feeling a little bit”—he swallowed thickly—“uncomfortable.” His eyes flicked to me. “But I’m not mad, Sophie.”

“Then you know that I just made a huge mistake—”

“And he just needs time to cool down,” he said, trying to make me feel better. But I knew Alex better than that, and this was it. Alex and I would never be anything close to what we were before. I’d broken his trust too many times, and it was too late. Alex might return after the summit, but the Alex I knew was gone for good.

My eyes began to blur again, and Phil reached out to brush the moisture from my cheek. “You’ve lived the last two years worrying about you and Alex,” he said softly. “And I know he means a lot to you—trust me,” he said. He shut his eyes and took a ragged breath. “I know too much, actually. But you have to let this go, Soph—”

My head was shaking before he could finish. “But he hates me now.”

“No,” he said, and it was almost a scolding. “Alex doesn’t hate you. He’ll never hate you. But you need to give him space. You both need space.” Phil was right. My going to him would only piss him off more, make him angrier and he wouldn’t listen.

“Come on,” he said, tugging me down to sit on the lip of the bridge with him. “Give us a moment to recover from that before we start talking about your broken heart, okay. I—uh—could use a minute to process.”

“You’ll need a year, at least,” I told him. I choked out a laugh, and sniffled. “How come it’s so easy being around you?”

“I’m not sure, but then I can’t think of much right now,” he said. “My brain is full, and my body is wound so tight it feels like it might detonate at any moment.” Wrapping his arm around my shoulder, he pulled me into his side and rested his cheek against the top of my head. “I think we deserve a drink,” he said, his voice frayed and tattered.

“Thank you,” I breathed. “I’m not sure what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been here.”

“Had a convulsion, probably,” he muttered.

I glanced behind us. “What were you doing on the other side the river anyway?”

“Oh, uh, I was just checking to make sure we hadn’t lost the boat. Jackson said he had a bad feeling, and I wanted to make sure that wasn’t it.”

“A bad feeling? That’s not good,” I thought aloud. That was never good.

52

Elle

All of us stood outside the prison, reluctantly waiting for Jackson and Alex to grab their bags from inside so that we could all say our goodbyes. Ross wasn’t as agitated as he’d been, which was a relief, and Phil still seemed content to stay behind. We’d worked him so hard that the poor guy looked exhausted.

Then again, none of us had gotten much sleep. There was too much excitement—and in my case, too much anxiety —so we’d finished loading the bus with food, clothes, camping supplies, emergency tools, weapons, and biodiesel for the road. Even with all we’d done, it didn’t feel like enough. So much could go wrong, and with Jackson’s uneasy feeling, it was impossible to ignore that we could be making a very grave decision by splitting up.

“All right,” Bert hollered. “Load ‘em up, time to go.” He spun his finger in the air to circle everyone up, and the dreaded rapid fire of my heartbeat made tears threaten to surface.

Everyone began their quick goodbyes, no one wanting to stop long enough to dwell on anything other than the excitement we were all struggling to hold onto.

“Bert,” I said, walking up to him with open arms. “Try not to get everyone into trouble, or you’ll be sorry when you come back,” I threatened him with a wink.

“I would never.”

I snorted a laugh, realizing I’d miss him just like the rest. “Sure you wouldn’t.”

Beau stood next to him, with Thea already crying that her brother was leaving. “But what if you don’t come back?” she whined.

“Don’t say that,” Beau chided. “Geez.”

“Well—it could happen.”

“It won’t. Luna will protect me.”

“And Jackson and Alex,” Thea added, as if Beau needed reminding.

“Yeah, she’ll protect them too,” he said grumpily, though I could see the emotion in his eyes as his sister fretted over him.

“Okay, well, bring me back something good at least,” she said. “You promise?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Go say goodbye to Jackson, squiggles,” I told Thea. “He’s going to need extra hugs, okay?”

She ran over to him, nearly catapulting into his arms.

When I looked at Beau again, I had to bite my tongue as he looked up at me with uncertainty in his eyes. I forced a giant smile and crouched down in front of him. “You better keep everyone in line for me, Beau,” I told him. “I trust you more than the rest of them. You and Luna are in charge, okay?”

His little chest rose fast and hard, but he didn’t say anything.

“You know, we could use protection too. Are you certain you want to go?”

“Yeah.” He nodded his head emphatically, like he was trying to convince himself. “I’m sure. Little Foot and the others will protect you.”

“Okay then. I’ll miss you—”

Beau flung his arms around me, squeezing so tightly that tears pricked the corners of my eyes. “You’re going to have such a good adventure. I can’t wait to hear all about it when you come home.” He pulled away, brushing a tear from his cheek.

“Time will go by so quick, you’ll be home before you know it.” Combing my fingers through his hair, I took a long, final look at him, and kissed his cheek. “I love you. And I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“Love you too,” he breathed and pursed his lips. “Make sure Thea doesn’t ruin my markers when I’m gone.”

“Okay,” I promised, leaning closer. “I’ll hide them if I have to.” With a wink, I rubbed the top of Luna’s black tufted head and gave her a goodbye pat, silently pleading for her to keep them all safe.

Kat and Jenny said their goodbyes, and I heard Stanley’s nervous cough, and Woody’s high-pitched laugh; but when my eyes locked with Jackson’s, all of that faded away. “I’ve decided I don’t want you to go,” I told him, only half joking.

He pulled me into his chest and lowered his lips to my ear. “I’m gonna miss you like hell,” he said, his voice a soft rumble. His hazel eyes were brimming with everything that made my heart full and my insides melt.

“I’ll miss you too,” I whispered, because it was all I could manage. Rising to tiptoes, I pressed my mouth to his, inhaling the scent of him. “So much,” I breathed against his mouth. “You better come back in one piece or I’ll kill you myself.”

Jackson kissed me back—an impassioned, desperate kiss—and when he opened his eyes, they were shimmering through a smile. “We’ll be fine. I promise.”

“You’re the one who had a bad feeling,” I reminded him.

“I still do,” he said. “It’s just the uncertainty of the unknown.”

“Well, you have a good team, and I know you’ll be safe. Everything will be fine.”

“Yes,” he assured me. “It will.”

With one more peck on the lips, I took a step back, knowing I might really change my mind if I lingered in his arms a moment longer. Jackson grabbed hold of my hand. “I love you, Elle,” he said, squeezing my fingers tightly.

That was all it took. My nostrils flared, my vision blurred, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders again, nuzzling against him. “I love you too. So much.” I kissed his neck, then one more kiss on his lips, and forced myself to take a step back. I wiped the moisture from beneath my eyes. “You’ll find a surprise in your duffle,” I told him, and his eyebrow lifted slightly. I knew where his mind was going before he opened his mouth. “It’s edible and appropriate,” I clarified.

He winked at me with a chuckle.

As I turned to say goodbye to Alex, Sophie walked up to him, both of them visibly straightening. She looked at me with a timid smile, then at Alex. “I just wanted you to know that I’ll miss you. And I do hope you come home. But I’ll understand if you don’t.”

Their gazes were fixed, and Alex’s cheeks reddened. “Goodbye, Soph.”

She lifted her chin, like it was the last shred of control she had left, and she stepped around me to say the rest of her goodbyes.

Alex watched her walk away, and I saw a look in his eyes I’d never seen before. A look that worried me a little.

“Are you okay?” I whispered as I wrapped my arms around him. Reining in my ever-increasing hover mode, I didn’t pry more than that.

“Yep.”

I laughed, glad one of us was ready for this. “Way to sell it. You still want to do this, huh?”

He nodded without hesitation. “Still doing this.”

I took a step back and appraised the man he’d become right before my eyes. His broad shoulders were back, and consternation darkened his eyes. He was determined. He was ready. And I knew this was what he needed.

“Look out for Jackson, will you? I think he’s going to miss home more than he thinks. He’s a big teddy bear underneath all that ruggedness, you know.”

Alex came in for one more hug. “Will do.” Then, he took a decided step back, grabbed his duffle bag off the ground, and flung it over his shoulder.

“We ain’t getting any younger, people,” Woody said as he stepped up into the bus.

“Uh—wait a minute!” I commanded, and everyone looked at me as I backed away from the group. “A photo of everyone before you leave.”

There were mumbles and there were groans, but I only glared in return as they filed into place. “Closer together,” I said, looking through the lens. “Closer—Jenny and Kat, get in there too.” As Kat opened her mouth to protest, I said, “Now, please.”

They looked at one another and obeyed.

“Okay, on the count of three,” I said, holding up my fingers as I counted down. “One. Two. Three.” I took three photos, hoping that at least one of them would turn out okay, since I wasn’t using digital and wouldn’t be able to tell until I developed the film.

“Elle,” Kat said. “You get in there now. I’ll take one with you and everyone.”

“Yes, thank you,” I said clapping my hands, and I hurried over to Jenny to take Kat’s place.

“Ross, stop scowling,” Kat told him, but I didn’t dare look at him and risk ruining the picture. “Or not,” she muttered. “Okay, then. One. Two. Three!”

Kat snapped a picture or two, and with a few more grumbles and groans, Alex, Beau, Jackson, Bert, Woody, and Kat climbed into the bus.

Bert took his place in the driver’s seat, and the bus rumbled to life.

It was harder than I’d expected to watch them load up and take their seats, because it finally felt real. Part of my family was leaving, and I could feel their absence already.

Jackson gazed out the window, his eyes locking with mine one more time, and with an air kiss in his direction, I waved them all goodbye as they drove through the prison gates.

“It feels wrong already,” Sophie said.

“They’ll be fine,” Stanley assured her. “Woody is a survivor—they all are.” Like the rest of us, with our forced optimism, Stanley said it to remind himself as well.

With a small smile, he looked at me, then at Sophie and Phil. Then he patted little Thea’s head and finally his gaze leveled on Jenny. “Come on, let’s get out of the sun and take a much-needed break.”

He headed toward the side entrance, and everyone but Jenny and I followed.

She took my hand in hers. “They will all be back soon.”

Part III

August

53

Alex

After two days on the road, driving through the epic landscape of British Columbia, a place I never really gave much thought to, I lost myself in the beauty of it. It was like Whitehorse, but . . . more. The trees seemed leafier and more compact; the mountain peaks felt closer, and there were clouds of mist settled between the trees everywhere I looked.

As stupid as it seemed, over 800 miles from home felt like a different world. Or maybe that was because we were embarking on the unknown, so each mile further away felt mysterious.

We’d followed the forest-lined road for hours. They were in better condition than we’d expected since no one had driven on them, though they were rough in a few areas from harsh weather, overgrown roots, and fallen trees. The outdated tour bus groaned every now and again around the bends and curves as we went, but we’d grown used to it. We’d been living in it for nearly forty-eight hours—sleeping in it, playing cards in it, and planning.

“It should be up this road another half-mile,” Woody said, staring at his map. He met Bert’s gaze in the rearview mirror.

“Got it,” Bert called back. He drove with his window down, his silver shoulder-length hair whipping in the wind, keeping him awake. It was out of the question for any of us to take the wheel. He simply wouldn’t have it. The bus was his baby, we’d learned within five minutes on the road. He knew which windows tended to get stuck, which overhead lights were temperamental, and that when using the tin can-sized bathroom, you should only ever go number one.

“You’re sure quiet over there,” Woody said, watching Kat from his seat across the aisle from us. The bench seats were cushioned but covered in a horrific nineties pattern that was threadbare. The ones in the front, in particular, where we were all sitting.

“Am I?” Kat didn’t bother looking away from her window. She’d definitely been quiet the whole drive, not her snarky self, which Ross would’ve appreciated. Other than Jackson’s radio check-in with the Whitehorse gang last night, we hadn’t talked to them since, but it was easy enough to picture them feeding the animals and making trips to the fish wheel.

“Are you rethinking this decision, Kat?” Jackson asked her, sparing a quick glance at Beau to ensure he was still asleep in his curled up knot with Luna, against the mound of duffle bags behind me.

Kat lifted her head and looked at him, as if she was waking up from a dream, then she looked at Woody and me, and shook her head. “No, not at all.”

“Then what’s with the frown?” Woody smiled at her, but something told me Kat wasn’t as easily sidetracked as Beau and Thea when it came to his goofy faces.

“Just anxious to be there already,” she admitted. She leaned back into the window and continued watching the trees whiz by.

We all knew Kat was headed back to Prince Rupert on a mission, even if not all of us were entirely sure what it was she was looking for. Woody knew better than to press her though, and he didn’t pry any further.

“We’ve got a roadblock,” Bert called from the captain’s chair.

“Wake up, Beau,” I said, shaking him gently. I stood up from my seat, grabbing the headrest to steady myself as the bus shuddered over bumps, and peered out the windshield. There was a cement roadblock painted in black and neon-yellow stripes, and four heavily armed men—two on each side of the road—as we slowed, drawing nearer.

“I bet their Abilities are more fearsome than those battle rifles they’re gripping,” Bert muttered as he rolled his window down the rest of the way to talk to them.

I looked at Woody, grateful he was there in case he needed to block any unwanted Ability intrusions this trip.

“Stephen’s the black man with the dreadlocks. He’s a null, like you,” Kat said, glancing at Woody. “And he’s an all right guy. You don’t have to worry about him.”

“Just all right?” Woody lifted a bushy eyebrow.

“Don’t worry, nothing crazy like that. He just thinks he’s God’s gift to women. It’s irritating.”

“What about the others?” I asked, only able to see that one of the soldiers was a woman with a petite frame compared to the others, and that the two other guys had pale faces. I couldn’t tell more than that.

“I don’t know them. But it’s safe to say one can probably tell if we’re lying. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the guns are more for show. I don’t think that guy on the left with chew in his lip is a solider. I don’t remember seeing him before.”

“So, these are likely the baddest of the bad,” Bert muttered. “Noted.” He pulled to a stop at the barricade.

The soldiers guarding either side of the road didn’t move, I wasn’t sure they even blinked.

“Welcome.” A guy with a nasally voice stepped out of a small booth with a clipboard in his hand. He stopped at the window, peering up at Bert in the oversized bus. He eyed Bert warily at first, then his expression opened more. “I’m going to go out on a limb and assume you’re here for the summit?” He rose onto his tiptoes, trying to see inside the bus.

“Yes, there are six of us . . . and a wolf,” Bert added.

The man at the window was tall and skinny, with dark hair and a beak-like nose. He wore glasses, and when he smiled, I instantly felt better. “As long as they’re friendly, all animals—and people—are welcome,” he said.

I glanced at Beau. All animals meant that other attendees might have brought animal friends too. Beau’s mouth pursed as he looked at me, realizing what I did.

“I’m Jonah, Admissions and Logistics Coordinator of this shindig. As I’m sure you can imagine, I need names and Abilities, as well as a brief summary of your visit. Now, if you’ll step out of the bus, we’ll get you squared away and you can head through.”

The four military personnel didn’t move, but they were there for a purpose, even if it was only to give us pause. It was working.

Quickly, I glanced at Jackson who gave me a nod of reassurance to do as the man said, but Kat didn’t wait for that. “No guns,” she warned us as she walked toward the door, looking at Bert to open it. The instant he did, Kat stepped out to meet Jonah as he came around the front of the bus.

“Ah, Kat, you’re back,” he said. I could barely hear him through the scuff of boots on the floor and the creak of the bus as the remaining five of us filed out. Woody and Bert stepped off next, then Jackson, Beau and Luna, who hadn’t left Beau’s side as usual, and me.

Jonah offered his hand to each of us as we lined up to introduce ourselves. “It’s good to meet you.” He jotted our names down and paused when he got to Luna. “And who does this beauty belong to?” He simpered, holding his clipboard to his chest. It was like he was talking to a toddler. Luna stared at him, then looked at Beau, like she was waiting for a command.

“Luna’s with me,” Beau said, rubbing her head absently. “She’s friendly.”

Jonah’s smile grew. “Oh, good. I believe we’ve already had one other animal telepath arrive.” He started writing on his clipboard again. “Didn’t come with an animal though. I’ll make sure you get placement in Quadrant One, there are some kids your age there. You might make some friends.” Jonah winked at me, I assumed because I had my hand protectively placed on Beau’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” I told him.

“Okay, now . . .” He scanned his clipboard again. “I have your names, Luna included. And I know what the kid can do. What about the rest of you?” He looked at the row of us, expectant, and like he was asking us what food we wanted to order for dinner.

Kat stepped forward. “Alex has Ability Alteration, he can amplify through touch,” she said.

“Okay . . .” Jonah began, thoughtfully taking notes.

“Jackson has heightened senses of sorts.”

Jonah glanced at her. “Speed? Strength—”

“No, intuition, I think?” She looked at Jackson with a shrug.

“Yeah,” he said. He seemed to be watching Jonah and the military all at once. “That sounds about right.” Jackson wasn’t overly nice, but he wasn’t rude either, just very cautious as we all stood surrounded by dense woods— perfect for soldiers to hide in—without weapons of our own.

“Woody, here, can null—and Bert can control mechanical energy.”

“Oh, how useful. Everyone will want be your friend, then,” Jonah teased. He lowered his clipboard with a smile. “And you, Kat, what’s your Ability again?”

Five pairs of eyes were riveted on her as she glanced at us. We’d been wanting answers, and I wondered how vague an answer she’d give him. “Electrical energy manipulation,” she said so quietly, I thought she might be trying to hide it from us. “I think.”

“Are you for real?” I stepped out of line with a smile. “You control what, like lightning and power lines?” As in, she could’ve been really useful last winter.

“I have before,” she said brusquely, and stared at Jonah. “Shall we continue?”

And with that, we were all back in line, awaiting direction, but I was bubbling with curiosity to know more and how she might be able to help at the hydro plant.

Jonah cleared his throat. “Right, well, here’s how it works.” He tore off a sheet of paper and handed it to Bert. “I’m giving you this number, which will tell you where to park. There will be signage as you get further down the road, indicating where your block is. This,” he said, pointing to an address on the same sheet, “is where you’ll be staying. You’ll want to drive there and unload your things, then you can leave the bus in the parking lot with all the other vehicles. Though, I haven’t seen many. Just be careful as you drive. Most folks who didn’t come by boat, rode horses—so keep your eyes peeled.”

I glanced at everyone, finding it difficult not to grow a little anxious in my excitement, as I imagined how new and uncharted all of it would be.

“I’m assuming you’re staying for the full two weeks?” Jonah glanced from Kat to our giant bus.

“That’s the plan,” Jackson said. His eyes were set on Jonah, and his voice gave nothing away. He wasn’t just reserved, but hopeful, and knowing Jackson, he was definitely on alert. “We’re here to discuss our settlement.”

“Oh, great! There’s a convening at sunset at City Hall. When you get to registration, you can tell them you’d like an audience with Huck. They’ll work it out for you. For now,” he continued, handing each of us a different colored sticker, “you’ll need to wear these so that everyone knows who you are and what Ability family you fall under. Once you get into registration, they’ll put a permanent stamp on your hand so you won’t have to worry about the sticker coming off.”

I peeled the back off and stuck mine onto my chest. The summit was starting to feel more real with every breath.

“I think that settles it—oh!” He turned to face the road. “Once you get past this barricade, you’ll follow Yellowhead Highway all the way to the waterfront. It’s a handful of kilometers or so. There will be signs everywhere for quadrants and parking, you can’t miss them. But,” he said, shoving his glasses further up his nose. “If you see anyone in a red vest, they’re working the summit and can help you. There’s a dozen or so of us.”

“Thanks, Jonah.” Kat pointed to the bus. “We better get a move on. The rain is coming.” We all stopped in our tracks to look at her, Ms. Ororo Munroe herself. She might not have looked like Storm, but Kat was a mutant, and if her Ability was as fierce as her snark and glare, I imagined she could light the sky with fury.

Kat rolled her eyes. “I can’t feel it, I can see it.” She pointed to the misty clouds.

Beau sniggered, clearly excited and happy for once, then we climbed back into the bus.

I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but we were finally here, and that was good enough for me.

54

Sophie

Phil and I sat at the bridge, and our companionable silence after what I’d gone through with Alex was a welcomed relief. My mind felt lighter having purged the weight of every burden, and even if nothing was figured out, at least I didn’t feel as alone.

“Come on,” he said, and with a grunt he jumped to his feet. “We need to go,” His voice was rushed and worried, and yet still so smooth, it was like butter. He reached for my hand, leading me over the bridge, and soon we were running. The woods were a blur around us.

“Hurry!” he called. I saw a flash of a girl with dark hair again—a blurry face, surrounded by muddled darkness—and I froze. Just as quickly as she appeared, she was gone again.

“What are you doing, Soph? Come on,” he urged. “We need to hurry!”

I felt a lick of apprehension up the back of my neck, but still, I fell into step behind him again, tearing through the woods like we were running for our lives. The tall grasses whipped and smacked at my ankles and when I looked down, I was wearing my running shoes.

When the old hunting cabin came into view, I felt a mental tug, and fleetingly, I thought about mosquitoes, swarms of them, and I was afraid.

I thought about Alex.

“Come on!”

When I looked up though, Alex wasn’t there; Phil was the one leading me toward the cabin’s open door.

“Wait—why are we coming back here?” I said, pulling against him. It was dark inside, and a visceral fear rippled over me. “I was here with Alex.” I stared at the hunting cabin again, remembering him and me trapped inside. His comforting arms were wrapped around me, and I could almost feel his body pressed up against mine.

“Stop that, Sophie,” Phil growled, and he spun on me. “You’re with me now. Stop thinking about him for once and focus on me.”

I pulled my hands from his, and took a step back. “I don’t want to be here with you.”

Phil’s brow lowered in anger, and he took a step forward.

“Sophie,” he said, almost desperate. The lines on his face eased and he leaned in, kissing me before I could recoil. At first, his lips were bruising, but then they softened, and I felt warm and coveted. I wanted to stay with him, wherever he wanted to go, forever.

“I’m yours,” I breathed against his lips. The sudden desire to be with him was overpowering. “Forever.” But as I said the words, I knew they were wrong. Forced, like the words were summoned from my throat. Something about all of it was very, very wrong.

As I tried to pull away, Phil’s hands clasped on both sides of my face, holding me in place and unrelenting.

“Let go—” I demanded and pried at his fingers, trying to tear my face away from him. His grip tightened and his nails cut into my skin. “Phil, you’re hurting me—”

“I’m done playing nice, Sophie,” he seethed, and there was a blackness in his eyes that sent fear coiling through me. “Do you want to end up dead, like your mother?”

I gasped, and my heart stopped as tears began to sting my eyes. “What?” I hit at his hands again.

“I’m tired of you making this so damn difficult. If I didn’t need that pretty face of yours, you’d already be dead.”

“Get your hands off of me!” I commanded through hot tears, still pulling at his fingers. I was willing to break them if I had to, but they were like cement against my skin. The more I struggled, the less I could move, and the forest facade around us flickered in my panic as I gasped for air.

It’s a dream, I realized. It wasn’t real. This isn’t Phil.

“Stop being a difficult, whiny bitch.” He seethed. “Alex is gone. I’m here. Let. Him. Go.” Like my sudden hatred of Phil was all the kindling I needed to send a blaze of determination coursing through me, I kicked him in the groin, forcing him to loosen his grip on my face. And I willed myself awake.

When my eyes opened, I was lying in my dark room. It was daylight, but I could only tell from the naturally lit hallway outside my door. My blackout curtains were drawn, my comforter was thrown off of my bed, and my heart was racing a little.

Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I sat up. My mom—why had she been a part of my dream? I climbed out of bed, not wanting to be in my room another minute. Sleep was tainted now; I was growing more and more frightened by what I’d see next. It all felt so real—so terrible—and not even Phil could help me make it go away.

I looked at the clock on the side table. It was almost noon, which was surprising. I was barely able to stay asleep until the sun rose, let alone sleep until noon. That meant Elle had poked her head in at some point to make sure I was breathing, then left me to sleep since she knew I needed it.

Blowing out a deep breath, I ran my brush through my hair more forcefully than I needed to, anxious to get out in the sunshine where the air was fresh and the daylight would fill all the shadows of my mind.

Phil was always different in my dreams than reality, but he’d never been so aggressive before. He’d never frightened me, and he’d never threatened me or said such horrible things about my mom.

I donned a clean pair of shorts and a tank top, knowing I was expected to clean a lot of salmon for smoking. Usually just imagining the slippery scales beneath my fingers made me want to dry heave, but I welcomed it today.

Throwing my hair up into a ponytail, I headed into the bathroom for a quick face wash and teeth brushing.

Even if I knew it was dream, or a twisted memory, I couldn’t get Phil’s expression out of my head—the pinch of his features, the hardness of his generally soft gaze, even his tone. All of it was wrong.

“Do you want to end up dead, like your mother?”

Staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, I remembered the girl with the dark hair and blurred features—Nora. She was in my dreams again, but why? I splashed water on my face as my mind began spiraling down a very dark path. Nora was someone from Phil’s past, and yet, the mosquitoes and the cabin, even my mother—those were from mine. My dreams. My memories.

I flicked the bathroom light off and made my way down the stairs, trying to push all of it from my mind. Even if Phil had seen everything in my head and knew my memories, there was no way he could actually be in my brain. He could sense Abilities in people, but he couldn’t go in my mind. Could he? Why would he even want to?

I walked into the living room and heard voices on the deck.

“—getting situated, and then they’re going to the first meeting tonight, at sunset.” It was Ross, reporting in about the summit. Heading for the screen door, I saw Elle sitting with him at the patio table. She and Ross both looked at me.

I gave them an awkward late-morning wave. “What’s this I hear about the summit?”

“Hey, Soph,” Phil said. I whirled around, nearly cringing at the sound of his voice, as he stepped out of the kitchen with a piece of jerky between his lips.

But when I laid my eyes on his easy smile and floppy hair, he was the same old Phil, smiling and open, and some of the unease faded away.

“I didn’t know you were here,” I said.

“Yeah, we’ve been here about an hour. I came with Ross, hoping you’d want to practice since it’s been a while. But Elle said you were sleeping in. Any more good dreams about me?” he said, his eyebrows dancing. His smile was strange juxtaposed to his dream counterpart, angry and forceful.

“Not good ones, no,” I admitted, and once again I wondered if it was possible for him to be doing this to me.

“Uh oh, that’s not a good look. Want to talk about it?” He crossed his arms over his chest, like he was settling in for another mind-meld overload, and his smile waned.

“You were . . . mean to me,” I explained, uncertain what I should tell him.

“Mean to you? Did you eat the last of my Now and Laters?” It was a joke, and it did make me smile, but I still couldn’t be sure of what was happening. While I didn’t believe the Phil standing in front of me could or would mess with my mind like that, I had no other logical explanation. Unless I really was losing my mind.

“Is there anything I can do?” He took a step closer, studying me.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“A distraction might help. Do you want to?”

“Want to what—oh, practice? Right.” Remembering the panic as his hands gripped my face, sparring practice didn’t seem like a bad idea. “Yeah, sure. That might actually help, but I have to clean salmon today.”

He pointed over his shoulder. “We’ll do a warm up, then I’ll help you. Come on, it’s getting hot.”

“Thanks,” I said, but my thoughts were elsewhere as we stepped outside onto the deck. Phil didn’t seem a likely candidate for mind-altering me all the time, but then I couldn’t think of a logical explanation either.

I looked at Elle, about to ask her if we could talk later, when she turned to me. “Don’t worry, I’ll fill you in on what’s going on at the summit later. It’s all good news, so far.”

“Oh, okay. Good.” I forced a smile.

Elle turned back to Ross, but did a double take. “Soph, what’s wrong? More bad dreams?”

“Um, yeah. Actually, can I talk to you about it, later?”

“Of course.” She stood up. “Want to talk about it now?”

I waved for her to sit back down. “No, later is fine. I’m going to get started on cleaning the fish.”

“Okay,” Elle said, a little reluctant, but I knew she’d find me later to talk. “Jenny is at the fish wheel, and Thea is—well, she’s supposed to be helping her, but I think she ran off to play with Aria again. I was about to go find them both.”

“All right. We’ll head that way.” I nodded to Phil. “Let’s help JJ first.”

We made our way down the steps and saw JJ heading toward the skinning shed with a cart of fish.

“Oh man,” Phil murmured. “That’s a lot of work ahead of us.”

“Tell me about it,” I grumbled. “Welcome to homesteading. You should bring Stanley over to help us tomorrow. If nothing else it will be entertaining.” Stanley didn’t do slimy, sticky, or bloody. Not well, anyway, but it was amusing to watch.

“Ha. Will do.”

As JJ lowered the fish cart, her arms shook, and we hurried over to the skinning shed to help her. “Hey, we’ll help with that,” I said, as she took a step back and wiped the sweat from her brow.

“Thank you,” she said, a little more raspy than usual. “I’m still getting used to this hard work.” She glanced around. “I did have a helper, but I’m not sure where she ran off to.”

“Well, if Thea ditched her chores that just means she gets to make us all dinner,” I said, only partially joking. “That will be a fun experience.”

“I’ll grab some aprons and gloves.” Phil disappeared into the skinning shed, and I turned the faucet in the wash bin on to scrub my hands clean.

“Here.” JJ handed me a towel as she braced herself with one hand on the edge of the table. When I reached for the towel, our fingers brushed, and I felt the flare of all-consuming fatigue and a dimness inside of her. It was a strange sort of hollowness and pain I hadn’t been expecting, and it made the deepest, most primal parts of me run cold.

“I’m not sure what I was thinking pushing that cart up here,” she said, wiping her brow again with a shaking hand. I’d felt death in Ross, and I knew the bleakness that came with it, the mental struggle and the fading light. JJ wasn’t just tired, she was dying. She knew it, too. Her body was weak and riddled with pain, though she was very good at hiding it.

When she realized I was staring at her, the forced openness of her expression fell. Realization shadowed her milky eyes.

“You have to tell Elle,” I whispered, but it was more of a command. It was the first thought I had and instantly fell from my lips. “She needs to know.”

JJ wasn’t dense, even if she liked to hide behind her differentness, using it as a shield to keep her secret safe. She knew what I meant, and the resignation furrowing her brow told me she also knew it was only a matter of time before someone found out.

JJ licked her lips and swallowed thickly, holding my gaze. “I will,” she said quietly. “Soon.”

I grabbed hold of JJ’s hand, needing to know all of it. Her memories might’ve been foggy, but I could still feel her emotions. They were ripe and overflowing with exhaustion. And she was afraid, not of death but of telling Elle the truth. Part of JJ’s resolve to accept she was dying had wavered when she met Elle. She felt a longing now, to live and breathe alongside her sister until they were old, to give Elle the sister she’d always wanted, or the best one she could be.

“It’s why you left Kat to come here,” I realized with a sharp breath.

JJ took her hand from mine and glanced furtively around, like she was worried someone would hear. “Kat believes there is a remedy and that she will find it, but I believe there is a natural way of things, and this—what I am—is not natural. I do not think I am meant to be alive.”

“You didn’t know how much time you had left.”

With cloudy green-flecked eyes, JJ glanced at Ross and Elle chatting at the table. “I had to know her,” was all she said, and I thought I understood, though my heart broke for Elle. And for JJ. Despite having gotten a second chance with her sister, Elle was going to lose her again, and probably soon.

“It is why Woody and Kat have gotten word to the Ranskins, asking them to come,” she added.

“You what?”

“I know they mean very much to all of you, and they are not here now because of me. I will rectify that as well.” My mind spun as she continued. “It will help to have them here when it happens, I think. Or, perhaps I should leave—”

“No,” I said, reaching for her, turning my Ability off out of sheer desperation. “No, you can’t leave her again. You can’t just disappear, and you can’t tell her something like that and expect her to let you leave.” I shook my head, lowering my voice as Phil came back out of the skinning shed. “You have to promise me you won’t leave, JJ. I don’t know if Elle would come back from that.”

I held my breath until JJ dipped her chin, giving me her word. Even then, I didn’t know how I was going to be able to look Elle in the eyes again. “Tell her,” I rushed out as Phil drew closer. “And do it soon.”

55

Alex

After unloading our bags in the four-bedroom house we were squatting in across from the park, some of us napped and snored—practically shaking the house rafters—like Bert and Woody. Others like Kat and Beau disappeared almost immediately; Kat left to ask around for the cure she was looking for; and Beau, with Luna’s protection, went exploring in the park across the street after having been cooped up in the bus for the past couple of days. Meanwhile, Jackson and I were too anxious for the summit to start, and too curious to lock ourselves away or sit still for very long, so we paced and explored the house that used to belong to a family of four; their pictures were still on the walls though they were long dead. I wasn’t sure if I would ever get used to stuff like that.

By the time the sun descended in the sky, and after a couple hours of stewing, it was finally time to head down to City Hall, a few blocks away. There was a marketplace set up outside that I could see from our porch, and sun gleamed on the harbor behind it. I zipped up my hoodie and basked in the cool breeze.

“Hey, old guys!” I called into the house, tired of waiting on them. They grumbled and patted at their hair, mussed from sleep. “What is this, a vacation?”

Bert and Woody ignored me as they filed out the door, still bleary eyed.

“Beau, let’s go!” Jackson called across the street.

Beau and Luna dropped the branch they were playing tug-of-war with as Jackson waved them over, and I impatiently led the way.

“Wait,” Bert said through a yawn behind me. “We’re missing a body. Where’s Kat?”

“She’s probably already there,” I called back.

Unlike Bert, who scuffed his feet against the pavement the whole way down the road like he didn’t have a care in the world, Woody picked up his pace. It was like it finally hit him that what he’d wanted all along might finally come to something more than a giant, empty city and its eleven keepers. The result of being at the summit could mean huge things for Whitehorse, and Woody, not unsupervised, would be at the helm.

The streets of Prince Rupert’s downtown harbor area were like any other city streets, with weeds peeking up through cracks in the road and a good amount of trash and debris stuck in small crevasses, matted and forgotten. The difference was there were people here.

Survivors were bunked in the houses we passed as we made our way through the neighborhood, and there was a buzz of voices as we drew closer to the marketplace. The people walking up and down the street waved at us, and we waved tentatively back; but mostly, we all just stared at one another, like we were all in a strange daze of amazement. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen dozens of people, and there was something almost unnerving about it. Like it couldn’t possibly be real.

Four rows of vendors in booths, and tents with awning covers flapping in the breeze, filled half of a giant parking lot. There were a handful of older men and women, and kids—a lot of them—and teenagers. The air was alive with chatter, and in a weird way, it was like the people wandering around weren’t visitors, but they belonged here, and you could feel everyone’s excitement to be at the summit.

We’d barely drawn close enough to the vendors to see what they were offering when the clock tower chimed, indicating it was time to head inside for the official start of the summit.

Veering for the big, white building marked City Hall, I peered up at the multi-level monstrosity, wondering how old it might’ve been. It wasn’t modern, but looked almost like an embassy built in the colonial times, with flags fluttering outside and dozens of tall windows that lined the front.

“Right this way!” a voice called from the entrance. A middle-aged woman was ushering everyone inside the building. “Welcome,” she said, with a tight-lipped smile. Her brown hair was pulled up into a bun on top of her head, and her face was brightly colored with a little too much makeup. “Welcome everyone. Come right in. We’re meeting in the last room down the hall.”

She nodded at me as I stepped inside with a dozen others, like cattle being called in to feed. Jackson took Beau’s hand, Luna remaining outside as previously agreed, and Woody and Bert came in after us.

“What if they’re mean to her?” Beau peered up at Jackson.

“Your wolf will be fine,” the woman said. I glanced over as she winked at Beau. “I promise.”

That seemed to reassure Beau enough to stop him from holding up pedestrian traffic, and he followed us farther down the hall. The room smelled musty, like it had been closed up for a long time, soaking in the briny sea air. There were other scents that attacked my senses, like the sudden balminess of so many bodies around me, and the musk of people—clean, unclean, earthy—and other scents I couldn’t quite determine. The cacophony of murmurs buzzed in my ears.

“Kat’s probably here somewhere,” Jackson thought aloud.

I tried to keep an eye out for her, but I was too busy noticing all of the new faces. There were people of all skin colors and ages, though Sophie had been right, most of the people were younger than forty years old, which was intriguing.

I’d been trying not to think too much about her, knowing this was where I was supposed to be. This place, foreign as it was, felt full of endless possibilities, and I began to see why Elle worried I might not go back.

The meeting room was barely half the size of the pasture back home, with a banquet table at the front, and the Canadian and British Columbia flags hung in the back. A man with short salt-and-pepper hair sat at the table with a stack of papers in front of him. He pulled his reading glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he waited for all of us to finish filing in. There were three men and two women in naval uniforms flanking the perimeter, though they weren’t packing heat, like they were only there to make a statement.

“Alex.” I peered over my shoulder at Jackson, noticing the others were keeping toward the back of the room where Kat was waiting for us, so I doubled back.

“Come in,” the man said. “Come in.” It was Huck Fenton from the radio; his voice was confident, practiced, and unmistakable. He had a form of telepathy, by the color of his sticker. “Quiet down if you can, please. The sooner we can get started the better.” The woman from the hall, who I assumed was one of our hostesses, came into the room, pardoning herself as she motioned people to step further inside so she could partially close the doors to keep the whistling wind in the hallway.

The room was packed with what looked to be around fifty or so people, some of them sitting in chairs closer to the speakers—an elderly gentleman who was older than Bert, and a pregnant woman—but most of us were standing, crammed inside like sardines.

With a few more pardon-mes and excuse-mes, the hostess made her way to the front. She looked to be in her forties, though with so much makeup on she might’ve been older, it was hard to tell. She sat down at the desk beside Huck, and when she gave him the nod, he began.

“First of all, I’d like to welcome all of you to the first ever Survivors’ Summit, here in Prince Rupert. This has been something my colleagues and I have been considering doing for a while now, but there’s a lot to think about, and in all honesty, it’s hard to plan for safety in situations like these.

“Now, before I go any further, I’d like to introduce you to the team.” He pointed at the hostess as she tucked a loose strand of her sandy-colored hair behind her ear. She had an Ability color sticker I hadn’t seen yet and I wondered what she could do. “This is Shannon. She and Jonah helped coordinate and organize this summit, which, given how difficult it is to travel and communicate these days, took some time and careful consideration. Captain Kirkpatrick, who you’ll meet tomorrow, and his officers and soldiers—what’s left of them anyway—are helping to ensure everyone’s safety, along with some civilian help.”

I’d never felt one way or the other about Huck when I’d heard him on the radio, but now, standing a dozen yards away from him, I decided I liked him. He spoke to us like we were his equals, and got to the point. No bullshit or crazy tangents. I glanced at Woody who listened with rapt attention.

“Now, the plan is to break off into smaller groups over the course of the next couple weeks, once we know what our needs really are. We have come prepared with as much knowledge as we have to share, but we want to hear from you as well. We’ve kept you abreast of most of what we know for months now. It’s what we don’t know that’s important to us. We’re all in this world together, and all of us—I’m assuming since you’re here—want to live full, safe, and healthy lives. So let’s use this time the best we can.”

Huck peered around the room, taking in all of the bright faces hanging on his every word. “As most of you can probably guess, I’m Huck Fenton, the voice on the radio. I was on the city council back in Hartley Bay, when there was a city council, at least. I used to worry about tourist traffic, and the ceremonial rites of our people, now my days are filled with quite a different list of concerns, which I’m sure you can imagine.”

“I know this is a tight space, because, well, to be honest, we weren’t sure how many folks would come. But, I’m happy to say that, while others might still be arriving, this is a very good turnout in my book, especially since we thought we were alone a couple years ago. If you have any concerns about your accommodations, or any questions that come out of this first gathering, feel free to hang around after the meeting. Though be forewarned, I get grumpy after too much time up here.”

Shannon chuckled under her breath, which clearly meant it was true.

Huck glanced down at the paper in front of him, then cleared his throat to continue. “Survivors have come from all over the region and beyond,” he continued, sitting back in his chair. He steepled his fingers and gazed out at us, locking eyes with a few people as he surveyed the room. “According to Shannon’s notes, we have a total of seventy-two people here already, and some of you have come all the way up the coast from California. The fact that any of you are even here, to me, means this place is already working. We’re the survivors of the old world. We’ve managed to overcome illness, unexpected and quite frankly terrifying changes to our bodies, chaos and the elements, hunger, and then some. Yet we’re here. All of us are together in this place and in this moment, and this is what community looks like. This is what change looks like.”

The door creaked open, and a few more people filed into the room. At first I thought nothing of them—two women a little older than me, and a man—but the woman with shoulder-length, jet-black hair, with eyes like teal gemstones, caught my attention. My breath hitched in the back of my throat as I registered the familiarity of her face. I’d seen her somewhere before, I just couldn’t place her.

“Now,” Huck continued, “let’s get a quick poll of the urgent needs of folks, so we know where to take this summit in the days to come. There are many things we’d all like to discuss, but our priority is the people who are currently looking for refuge. We’ll plan tomorrow’s events and meetings around getting those needs met first.”

One of the women who came in late—who was shorter, had mousy brown hair to her chest, and a more petite frame—raised her hand.

“Yes,” Shannon said. “Miss, are you looking for refuge?”

The woman shook her head, and I couldn’t help but think she looked familiar too. “No, we are here to offer refuge, but not only to survivors,” she said with a surprisingly husky voice. “But to those who some would consider . . . different.”

“Explain, please,” Huck interjected. He pulled his glasses down the bridge of his nose and peered over the rim.

“Re-generatives,” she said. “What some of you have heard called Re-gens.” She peered around the room. Her eyes were a milky violet color that, although a different hue, reminded me of JJ’s. “Some of you might not know what I speak of, but I am a Re-gen. And I have many brothers and sisters who are different from you. We are one of Father’s—of General Herodson’s—alterations.”

The interrogation chamber. I gasped as I recalled one of Sophie’s memories of a Re-gen being tortured and waterboarded. It was a violet-eyed Re-gen named RV-01.

Everyone stared at her, though not everyone, at least not who I was with, seemed surprised.

“The Re-gen Rebellion,” Woody said, his voice bursting through the silence in the room like a firecracker. “You’re the reason Herodson lost his footing to begin with.” There was awe and gratitude brimming in his voice.

The woman with the aquamarine eyes looked from the Re-gen to Woody, then to Beau, before her gaze locked with mine for a moment.

“Some would say that, yes,” the Re-gen continued. “As you can likely tell from my speech, we sound different than you, or so I have been told.” She glanced at the big guy who stood protectively by her side. He watched everyone, pensive, like he was uncertain he wanted to be there, and like he was waiting for something bad to happen.

“I do not know what you have heard, but we did start the revolution against the General last year, and while many of my kind have found refuge with me, there are still many in hiding. That is why we are here. We are different from you in many other ways, not just in our eyes and speech. We have special requirements for survival, so if you know any of these people looking for refuge, please tell them we are waiting for them in Hope Valley, California. We can help them, and protect them.”

I thought about JJ being ill, and that she was a Re-gen, or at least, she thought she was. I looked at Jackson, waiting to see if he would say anything.

“You know a Re-gen?” My head snapped around to see the raven-haired woman looking between Jackson and me. “Yes,” she said with more confidence. “You do, but that’s not why you’re here.”

A crease ruffled Jackson’s brow, and he dipped his head in answer as his eyes skirted around the room, surveying the gawking faces. “We also have a refuge, a city-sized settlement with power up north, which I would be happy to discuss when the time is right,” he said, meeting Huck’s contemplative gaze.

But if anything was said after that, I didn’t hear it. I couldn’t look away from the woman with the piercing blue gaze and raven-black hair, because suddenly I knew who she was, or rather, who she might’ve been related to, and the fact that she was here and could read my mind made my jaw twitch and my blood run cold.

I’d seen her a handful of times in Sophie’s memories. The woman in the lab coat. The doctor behind it all. Dr. Wesley.

56

Elle

Surrounded by the soft glow of the safelight, I stared down at the milky outline of the developing photo in the tray. The outline of the group of us began to darken, and I hoped this was the one—the keeper. The other two I’d chosen, which I thought were good, if a little goofy with a couple of contorted faces in half-motion, weren’t quite the one I was hoping for. I wanted a photo that I could cherish, that had all of us together. A photo of our family.

As I placed it in the third tray to set, a contented smile parted my lips. Twelve faces looked back at me, all of us smiling at the camera. My sister, impossible as it was, was standing beside me.

Pinching the photo with the tongs, I moved it to the wash tray and then to hang on the line with the others. I still hadn’t gotten used to her being alive, even if seeing her every day felt right.

“Elle?” Jenny’s voice was quiet on the other side of the basement door. “May I speak with you for a moment?”

“Yeah,” I called back, pulling off my safety glasses and placing them on the counter. “One second.” After peering around the lab to ensure I’d left no unattended film out, I flicked the light on. “Come on in.”

The door creaked open, and Jenny made her way down. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail, like mine, and her eyes were hungry and wide, like before, taking in the new photos hanging across the line.

“Where’s Thea?” I asked, knowing they’d been inseparable all evening.

“After she finished telling me about Aria’s mean sister, which I’m sure you’ve heard about, she went off with Little Foot to give her a fresh coloring book.”

I sighed and shook my head. “At first I thought it was strange for her to have an imaginary friend, but Sophie used to have one. As long as Thea doesn’t use her as a scapegoat when she gets into trouble, I guess it’s okay.”

Jenny’s mouth quirked. “Thea is very sweet, and photogenic.” She peered around at the photos I hadn’t taken off the line yet.

“She’s also the most willing subject out of the group.” I pointed to the new photos. “Here, look. There’s a great one of you and Kat. Beau and Woody look like they have gas, but you two look great.”

Jenny smiled and reached for the print, her fingertips stopping just shy of touching it. “I love it,” she breathed, her eyes roaming over everyone’s faces.

“This one, though,” I pointed to the newest addition. “This one is my favorite. It’s perfect.” Jenny tore her gaze from the other photo and came closer.

“This is how different we are,” she thought aloud, and her face fell a little as she squinted at our likeness. Different hair lengths, and our features altered a little, but we were still us.

“We’re not that different,” I told her, detecting the discontent in her voice.

But all easiness was gone from Jenny’s face when she looked at me, again. “Elle, I must speak with you about something. Perhaps we should go up—”

“That’s okay,” I told her, getting a sickening sense that I wasn’t going to like whatever she had to say. “You can tell me here.” I crossed my arms over my chest and rested my hip against the counter. “You’re not leaving already, are you?” I felt an unexpected tinge of panic.

A weak smile pulled at the corner of her mouth, making her cheek twitch, then she shook her head. “No.”

Relieved, I allowed my shoulders to ease a little. “Well, that’s good.”

“At least, not by choice.”

I frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Jenny said, and she took a deep, long breath. “It means I’m sick, Elle.”

The heat in my veins flared and warmed my skin, and dread settled in the base of my throat. “Do you mean, like cancer?” My voice was indistinct as I realized what she was trying to tell me. If she had cancer, there was nothing we could do. There were no doctors to take her to. There were no treatments.

“Not cancer,” she clarified. “I am not familiar with cancer, but no, that is not what I speak of.”

“Then what are you talking about, Jenny?” Then I remembered Kat’s words the day we met her. They rang in my ears, too true and too raw. “There are some of us who have been genetically altered and experimented on so much, they’re running out of time.”

She stared down at her shaky hands. I’d noticed it when she first arrived, but chalked it up to nerves—being in a new place and meeting me, a stranger. She tightened her hands into fists, then stretched her fingers, like she was trying to control her tremors. “I do not know what is happening, only that my body is deteriorating. I can feel it.”

How could I have forgotten? How had I not realized, when Jenny was clearly unwell? “But, why—how come—” I closed my mouth. Her appearance and mind were altered, so of course her body would be too. “Side effects,” I realized.

“I believe so. It is difficult to say.” Despite her apparent acceptance of what was happening to her, it wasn’t as easy for me. Not as I realized my sister, who had only been with me a couple weeks, was dying. Again.

“And you just accept this?” I hated the clip of anger, but couldn’t help it. Old Jenny would never accept it or look so resolved.

Jenny’s expression didn’t change, and her voice didn’t waver as she lifted her chin ever so slightly. “It is my reality. It has been for a while.”

I bit my tongue, and forced myself to keep breathing—to push the desperation clawing its way in, out of my nose and my swelling chest. This wasn’t happening. My sister was here, alive, and she had come back to me. “This is why Kat was so worried about you—all this time and you didn’t say anything.”

Jenny’s brow furrowed slightly, and that small hint of regret nearly shredded me, and my lungs constricted. She couldn’t give up hope. She’d been brought back once; we could find a way to do it again.

“There has to be something we can do.” I brushed past her, toward the steps. “There’s a way—Sophie and Stanley might’ve come up with something in all of their studying. I’ll ask them—”

“Elle.” Jenny’s voice wasn’t flat, but empty. She was resigned to her fate and my name on her lips commanded me to stop. “Kat has been looking for a cure for months. It is why she was so determined to stay in Hartley Bay and see what news she could discover, and why she went to the summit in Prince Rupert. She is determined to find answers.”

My chest lightened a little, and I allowed myself another deep breath. “Well—that’s good,” I told her, though it was more of a question, because my sister didn’t look relieved. “Jenny . . .” I walked over and took her hands in mine. “That’s a good thing, right?”

Her gray-flecked eyes met mine, shimmering with sadness and regret. “Perhaps, but—”

“But what? Don’t you want to live?” Jenny stared at me, unmoving for what felt like minutes, and I squeezed her hands harder. “That’s a good thing,” I reiterated, but tears fell through my lashes as she remained silent.

“Elle.” My name was an empty word on her lips.

“Jenny,” I snapped as desperation bubbled closer to the surface. “Answer me. You want to live, right?” But her hesitance was all the answer I needed.

My hands shook as I dropped them to my side. “Why don’t you want to live?” I sounded broken, even to my ears—a wretched, weak sound that angered me as she stood there dumbly. “Jenny—”

“I want to live,” she finally said, but her voice sounded as desperate as mine. “But—” She took my hands again, gripping them as she willed me to understand. “I am so tired,” she whispered. “It weighs me down every day, and I would like to rest.”

“But . . .” I shook my head. “I just got you back.” The words were barely a squeak, and I turned away from her, shaking and desperate to make her understand how much I needed her. “You wouldn’t have given up before,” I told her, anger solidifying in my voice. “You would’ve given whatever this sickness is the middle finger, just because. You can’t just accept this—”

“I am not like before,” she said calmly.

“Jenny!” I spat, but when I looked at her again, I saw the exhaustion in her eyes. It was in the pallid color of her skin, and the creases around her eyes. It was in the meekness of her voice, and everything culminated at once—how she must’ve felt over the past two years, what she’d gone through and what had been done to her. I couldn’t imagine how she must’ve felt inside and out, and a sob burst up through my throat.

I gripped the edge of the counter as my body quaked, and tears blurred my eyes until I couldn’t see. “But I just got you back.” All I could do was draw in a few ragged breaths, and I leaned into the table, praying it would keep me upright.

Jenny rested her hand on my shoulder, and even if she was different, even if she didn’t want to live, she was still alive now, and her warm hand on me broke my heart. Lifting my shoulder, I leaned my cheek against her hand, imagining what my life would be like without her now.

“How long do we have?” My voice was reed-thin and just as fragile. Even though I wanted to spout accusations about why she bothered to come at all, I was happy that she did. I was happy to know the truth and to have a second chance with her in my life, even if it wouldn’t be long-lived.

“Weeks, perhaps months.” But not years. I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt a pain so raw it felt like my heart was bleeding. I’d mourned an estranged sister, but this time I would have to mourn someone beloved to me, a friend.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I told myself whatever time we still had was a gift. At least it wasn’t hours. At least I could still spend time with her, even if I knew there was an approaching end.

I looked at her through wet lashes, heartened to see her nose was red and her lashes damp as well. “You’ll stay here until then, right?” It was a plea more than a question.

Her eyes crinkled in the corners and her lips thinned, like she was happy I’d asked and was holding back a smile. “If you wish it.”

Nodding like my life depended on it, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, needing to feel my sister’s warm body. Needing to feel her heart beating the tighter I squeezed.

“We won’t tell anyone,” I told her. “Not yet.” I wasn’t sure I could handle their questions and sympathetic looks.

“Sophie knows,” Jenny said, rubbing my back. “She discovered it today, but I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

“It’s why she’s been avoiding me all night and hasn’t confided in me,” I realized. She didn’t want to burden me with whatever has been bothering her on top of this. I ran my fingers through my hair and shook my head. I didn’t want to think about what other secrets poor Sophie was harboring, but I was glad this no longer needed to be one of them.

“Come on,” I told her, straightening and wiping the dampness from my eyes. “It’s time to make dinner, and I don’t want anyone coming down here and seeing me like this.” But even as I began to dry my face, the tears threatened to come again. Time was running out, and I had to figure out a way to make the best of it.

57

Alex

After the meeting disbanded, and the Q and A wrapped up with the promise to discuss most of what folks had questions about in the days to come—like sustainability, and safety issues regarding the crazy, Ability-armed survivors that were still a threat—our group, with the exception of Kat who wanted to find the Re-gen, planned to meander the marketplace. There were still a few hours until the sun fully set, and while my body felt a little tired, my mind was a raucous mess of curiosity and unease after seeing the woman whose resemblance to Dr. Wesley was uncanny.

By the time we stepped outside City Hall, merchants were back at their tables and the place was lively again. But unlike Shannon had promised, Luna wasn’t outside and Beau began to panic. “Luna!” he called, frantically looking around the booths and the quickly filling aisleway.

“Luna—”

“Why don’t you use your mind,” I told him. “She’s probably around here somewhere and she just can’t hear you.”

“I can’t feel her—I can’t—”

“She’s over there,” Woody said, pointing down the row of bustling people. Sure enough, the black wolf was sitting beside a booth. I would’ve assumed she was begging for some of the smoked meat I smelled in the air, making my stomach rumble, but then a young girl came around the table and crouched down to pet her.

“Hey!” Beau shouted, running toward them, and with a grumble, Jackson and I followed.

“We’ll be talking to Shannon about the evening social tomorrow,” Bert said with waggling eyebrows. I rolled my eyes, used to the old man’s teasing when it came to women. Then he and Woody headed in the opposite direction. “Meet you back at the house.”

Jackson and I sidestepped minglers as we continued after Beau. We passed booths boasting teas, welded metal tools, and sewn goods.

“Hey,” Beau called again, stopping next to Luna. She ran to him with a wagging tail and licked at his fingers.

“That kid is going to give me a heart attack this trip,” Jackson uttered as we came to a stop at a honey booth.

“What are you doing?” Beau asked, scowling at the little girl. She had pretty dark skin and her matching hair was weaved into a thick braid around her head.

“I was just petting her,” the girl growled back, her brow equally low. “She likes my skin, it’s like hers.” She smiled proudly, and while it was endearing, it also surprised me.

“What do you mean, she likes your skin?” Beau said, echoing my question exactly. That the little girl knew what Luna was thinking gave us all pause, but then I glanced to the sticker on her shirt. She was a telepath, an animal one, I assumed.

She rolled her eyes, golden like the honey lining the table behind her, and folded her arms over her chest, pointing one foot out, like she couldn’t believe he was so clueless. “I can talk to animals too, dummy.”

“Mia,” another voice chided, and a young woman with skin the color of cinnamon, bright green eyes, and golden blonde, curly hair that hung past her shoulders, stepped back into the tent with a plate of meat and cooked vegetables in hand. She set it on the table and looked between the little girl and Beau. “Mia, why are you calling this boy a dummy?”

“Because,” she quipped, gaping at him. “He thinks he’s special or something.”

“Hey now,” the young woman and I spoke at once. Her bright eyes met mine with a fleeting smile, then she crouched down in front of Mia who was equal to Beau in attitude and stature.

“What did we tell you about this trip? What did you promise?”

“That I would be nice,” she ground out.

“Apologize to him, or Alan’s not going to let you come to the market tomorrow.” She held Mia’s gaze a second longer, ensuring she understood, and the little girl huffed out a breath and looked at Beau. “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t quite genuine, but it was as close to an apology as Beau was going to get.

He glanced up at Jackson, who dipped his chin, encouraging Beau to play nice. “It’s okay,” Beau grumbled back. “Besides, I’m not special,” he said glumly, and he patted Luna’s head. “Come on girl.” He looked at Jackson, the excitement deflated from him. “Can I go find Woody?”

“I’ll go with you,” Jackson answered, and he and Beau, with Luna in tow, headed back down the row of booths.

“Are you happy now?” the young woman scolded. “You might’ve scared off your only friend in this place.” Mia’s face fell, and she watched Beau and Luna as they walked further away. Her eyebrows drew together and then she stomped away.

“Here, take your dinner,” the young woman demanded, and she handed the girl her plate. Mia took it reluctantly and disappeared around the side of the tent.

“Well, that was fun,” I muttered, reaching out my hand. “I’m Alex, and that was Beau and Luna.”

“Iris,” she said, and took my hand. She smiled with a deep sigh. “And that’s my sister, Mia. Well, she’s my sister now, anyway.”

“Yeah.” I eyed Beau down the aisle. “Same.”

“She doesn’t make friends very easily, not human ones anyway.”

“Ah, so that’s why Luna was over here.”

Iris shrugged. “Mia prefers animals to people, which is one of the reasons we brought her. Sometimes she forgets that she’s one of us, you know?”

“Not really,” I said, taking a step closer, eyeing a cluster of lavender flavored honey bottles. “Beau can only talk with the wolves. Too many animal friends hasn’t really been a problem.”

Iris lifted her head, eyeing me up and down. “I see. And what about you, what is your power? More specifically than a generic tag, I mean.”

“He’s a conduit.”

Peering over my right shoulder, I saw the woman from the meeting hall, the one that looked alarmingly similar to Dr. Wesley, the maker of death and creator of mass destruction. I knew the role the doctor played in the fall of the entire world, and all of the innocent people that died horrible deaths because of it.

“Oh, Zoe, you’re back.” Iris smiled, and looked between the woman and the man behind her holding her hand.

Zoe stopped a few feet from me, and she pointed to my sticker. “You can amplify Abilities and use them, like my brother, Peter.”

“You’re scaring the kid, Zoe,” the man said, leaning in. He offered me his hand. “I’m Jake.”

“Alex.” I glanced between them, wondering who the poor tortured Re-gen was that he stood protectively beside in the meeting, if he was holding hands with Zoe.

“Becca, his sister,” she answered.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Are you reading my mind right now?”

Her mouth quirked up in the corner. “Not intentionally, but you are a conduit, and my Ability seems to have gotten a mind of its own simply standing next to you.”

Without even touching? “Um, that’s not how it typically works.”

“No? Well, with me, it does.”

“Zoe has a very strong power,” Iris explained with a bit of awe in her voice, though I was more apprehensive about it than that. “She and Jake, even Becca, are some of the strongest wielders we have back home.”

That Iris and Mia knew this woman made my stomach churn a little.

“You don’t trust me, but you don’t even know me,” Zoe said with a cocky lift of her eyebrow. She didn’t look particularly dangerous, but looks were deceiving.

“I’d appreciate it if you stayed out of my head,” I told her.

She smiled, but without humor this time, and she studied me a moment longer. “I wasn’t in your head. It’s written all over your face. But don’t worry, I’m not dangerous.”

“Hmm.” I straightened my shoulders, growing more uncomfortable by the second. If Jackson were still standing here he could tell me if I was about to be lured into a false sense of security, like Hansel and Gretel. “You look like someone, is all.”

Jake and Zoe exchanged a look that told me they had either wagered on it, or they’d expected something like this would happen.

Zoe eyed me for another few heartbeats, probably probing around in my head, which I was sort of used to, even if it was unnerving. Then, she leaned closer. “As you know, we don’t get to choose who our relations are,” she whispered.

I wasn’t sure if it was horror, anger, or simply shock, but her words were an admission that she was related to the doctor, and it left me scrambling for a cohesive thought. I looked from Iris, who was talking to a patron at her booth, back to Zoe.

“Alex!” Jackson called behind me. “It’s grub time!”

Zoe held my gaze, and I saw the smallest measure of reassurance in her eyes. Then, she pursed her lips. “It was nice to meet you, Alex. See you around.”

I looked at Jake and his expressionless face, then at Iris. “See ya around.” She smiled, and as she lifted her hand to wave, I turned and beelined for the others.

The General and the doctor had always been far away enigmas, and now a mini Dr. Wesley was here, in Prince Rupert, and even in his death, General Herodson felt closer than ever.

58

Elle

I sat in front of the radio in the den, letting Jackson’s words sink in. Dr. Wesley’s family was at the summit. I’d never thought that was something we needed to worry about—crazy assholes were one thing, but a descendent of the mad doctor didn’t sit well either. Even if Jackson didn’t get a bad feeling from them, it would weigh on me, just like everything else.

The radio buzzed again. “Elle?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m here. Sorry. Just processing everything.” I ran my fingers through my wet hair, grateful I’d snuck in a shower to wash some of the tears away before sitting down to pretend everything was normal on our end. It had only been a couple of days since they’d left and already it felt like too long.

I didn’t want to tell him about Jenny. Jackson would only worry about me while he was gone, more than he already did, and he needed to stay focused.

I forced myself to smile and I changed the subject. “Well, it sounds like you guys are settling in well. And, if Beau has finally met his match in that Mia girl, I think that’s a good thing. Especially if they are bunking in the same neighborhood as you.”

“Yeah, she’s definitely a handful, but Alex said her Ability is pretty advanced. She doesn’t have any animals with her, at least none that I noticed, but then, California is a ways to travel.”

“Well, it’s only the first day. Maybe Beau and Mia will become friends, and she can help him while he’s there. For his sake.”

“Perhaps.” But Jackson seemed unconvinced. The radio clicked off and on again, and he added. “Bert already hit on one of the summit coordinators. I swear, it’s like he’s reverting back to his horny teenager phase.”

I snorted a much-needed laugh, imagining Bert getting a smack to the face and acting as if it came out of nowhere, but my smile quickly faded. My heart hurt thinking about them. I missed them, all of them, and I had to bite my lip to hold back the tears as they threatened to resurface again.

“I’m speaking with Huck tomorrow about Whitehorse. He’s really intrigued by it, and he’s made it perfectly clear they are at capacity here. How are things at home?”

“Oh, good—great. We’re keeping up with the fish wheel. Phil’s been staying to help with that, which has been nice.” I couldn’t very well tell him Jenny wasn’t able to do much since she was weaker than I’d thought. “How’s Kat doing, by the way?” If Kat was there searching for a cure, and if she found one, I hoped Jenny might change her mind.

“She’s been on a mission the whole time, still looking for answers about things she’s keeping to herself. I don’t ask questions anymore. I’d like to keep my limbs.”

“So then, no luck yet—I mean, finding whatever she’s been searching for?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Closing my eyes, I massaged my temples and practiced my breathing. I tried to focus on the lumpy couch we never used, and the scent of smoke from the fireplace, but all I wanted was for Jackson to be here to wrap his arms around me.

The radio crackled again. “Elle, are you okay?”

“Yes,” I said, smiling into the radio, as if it would convince him. “I’m just staring at these photos I took of the group before you left and feeling sentimental.” I clicked off the radio and dropped it into my lap and as I rubbed the tension from my face.

There was a clatter in the kitchen, followed by whispered mutterings. I held the radio back to my mouth and clicked it on. “Babe, I better go. Thea’s breaking into the cupboards again.”

Jackson clicked on with a chuckle. “Never a dull moment. Okay, get that rascal and give her a hug for me.”

“I will.”

“Elle, I love you so damn much. I’ll be home soon. Okay?”

My throat tightened, but I forced myself to speak. “Same. Love you and chat tomorrow. I gotta go. Give everyone my love.”

“Ten-four,” he responded, and I switched off the radio.

Clearing my throat, and brushing my damp hair from my face, I stood and stomped through the den, toward the kitchen, to catch the little monster in the act.

“What are you doing?” I drawled, and Thea looked at me with wide caught-on-camera eyes and her finger in her mouth.

Her cheeks reddened and she hedged a smile. “Just a little?”

“All right, fine.” I walked over and stuck my finger in the jar too. I could use something comforting and sweet. “But next time, let’s do this before we shower, okay?” I pulled her damp hair from the honey on her cheek and sighed.

Nope, never a dull moment.

59

Alex

The next evening, after we broke from the final meeting of the day, I sat with Beau and Luna in the park across the street from the house, watching the two of them practice Beau’s communication with her.

Beau sat with his legs crossed in the grass, focusing on Luna’s yellow eyes as she lounged across from him, blinking. Every once in a while her head would tilt, like she was listening to words I couldn’t hear. Or her tail would wag. Then she would growl and bark happily, jumping up and turning around in a circle like she was waiting for him to come play with her.

While they played, all I thought about was home. Jackson and Woody had talked to Huck about Whitehorse. He conceded that it was a great place for a potential settlement, one that some people were in desperate need of. But then he started asking the harder questions.

With more settlers came a different sort of responsibility that we hadn’t considered. Laws. Leaders. Safety precautions for when the settlement grew larger than our small, inhabited corner of it. While it wasn’t impossible, it was enough to make me wonder if we were ready for more people.

“I wish you would stop moping about Sophie and come play keep-away with me,” Beau called.

I scowled at him a few yards away. “I’m not moping.”

“Whatever,” he said, rolling his eyes.

But it was true, I wasn’t, for once. Even if I wondered what she was doing when I let my mind rest long enough.

Luna barked, stirring me from thought, and she took off running toward Mia as she practically pranced across the street.

“Oh, geez,” Beau grumbled, and he came to sit beside me on the bench. “She’s annoying,” he muttered.

“And coming over,” I pointed out. I remembered what Iris had told me. “Mia doesn’t talk to people very often,” I explained. “Maybe she could use a friend.”

“Is that what her problem is?” He huffed, like it was the most inconvenient request in the world, and tossed the stick that Luna had abandoned to the side.

Mia smiled as she pet Luna, who licked and nudged at her hands before scampering back to Beau. Mia’s smile fell. But, like Beau, she seemed resigned to play nice and she slowly walked over. Begrudgingly.

“What do you want?” Beau griped as Luna took her place at his side.

“Hey,” I chided. “Why don’t you say hello first?”

“Hello,” he drawled. His false smile fell. “What do you want?”

I dropped my head in my hands and shook my head. “This kid,” I muttered.

“Well,” Mia started, putting her hands on her hips. She wore jeans and a t-shirt, just like Beau, only his shirt was black, much like his mood tended to be, and hers was bright pink with yellow and white flowers on the shoulders. “Iris said I had to ask if you wanted to play.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“That’s not technically true,” I told him with a giant grin. “You were just saying how you wished I would play keep-away with you and Luna.”

Beau scowled at me, and I chuckled in reply.

“I guess we can.” Mia shrugged. “That’s kinda lame though.”

“Well then, what do you want to do?” Beau bit out, throwing up his hands, completely exasperated. “You’re the one who came over here.”

Mia looked at me, like she had a secret or couldn’t say.

I threw my hands up next. “I’m no one—and too busy moping, apparently.” I looked at Beau. “Don’t mind me.” I continued to watch them, though, not dumb enough to leave them alone, in case fists started flying, which wouldn’t totally surprise me.

I stared out at the market down by the pier. The tents were being broken down as the wind whipped through the harbor, threatening to tear signs and merchandise away. I’d traded a few bags of elk and moose jerky for some of the lavender honey for Thea, and a new journal made out of an old book for Sophie, though I was still trying to figure out what to get Elle.

“Do you want to drift?” Mia asked, and it sounded more like a conspiracy plot than an innocent question, and I perked up to listen.

“Do what?”

“You know, go into Luna’s mind, or another animal if you want. I can tell you don’t like to share. But something less boring than being here in real life.”

“You mean talk to Luna?” Beau clarified. “I do that all the time.”

“No, dummy.”

I snuck a glance at them standing a few feet from one another while Luna sniffed around, ignorant of their plans to mind-invade her even more. “Like, go into her mind. Be her for a little while. We can explore the city through her eyes. It’s so much fun. We can spy on people.” Mia came to life as she spoke, no more frowning, but eyebrows raised with excitement.

Beau, on the other hand, frowned. “I can’t do that,” he said.

“Why, because you’re afraid you’ll get into trouble?”

“Because I can’t,” he bit out.

Mia looked so perplexed, I knew Beau had to feel even more broken than he already did. “Really?”

He turned to walk away, and she ran after him. “I didn’t know,” she bleated, less condescending this time. “I just thought you were like me.”

“Well, I’m not.” He picked up the stick and threw it for Luna again, with more fervor this time.

“Have you even tried?”

He shook his head and plopped down in the grass, picking angrily at the defenseless blades between his fingers. I was about to tell him we should go in, before we lost Beau to another self-pitying party, when Mia sat down in front of him.

“Want me to help you?” Her voice was kind, more so than before, and Beau peered through his lashes at her, skeptical.

“If I can’t talk to any other animals, how would I be able to do that drifting thing?”

Mia frowned again. “You can’t talk to any other animals?”

I grimaced.

Without a word, Beau climbed hastily to his feet.

“You just haven’t tried hard enough. Here, I’ll teach you.” Mia grabbed his hand and pulled him back down as she closed her eyes. She exhaled. “Do you feel Luna’s mind?” she asked. “It’s like a bright, blinking light, almost so bright—”

“It’s not that bright,” he told her.

“Are you only thinking about Luna? Are you only thinking about talking to her?”

“What are they doing?” A soft feminine voice came up behind me, startling me, and I turned around.

“Iris. Hey.” She smiled and sat down beside me on the bench. “Mia is trying to help Beau with his Ability.”

“Well, that’s surprising, and nice of her.”

I nearly snorted. “Yeah, it was rough waters there for a minute.”

Iris grinned and leaned back into the bench as she peered around the park. There wasn’t much there, other than a rusted swing set on the other side, and a damp sandbox. The grass area was nice though, and perfect for Beau and Luna to expel some energy.

“My feet are killing me,” she groaned, and lifted her face up to the waning sun. “I’m not used to standing all day.”

“What is it you usually do back home?”

“I’m a teacher for the second graders,” she said. She was the youngest teacher I’d ever met, and the cutest. “Don’t look at me like that,” she mind-whispered, and my mouth fell open.

Iris let her head fall back and laughed. “Your face, it’s absolutely priceless.”

“I bet,” I grumbled, facing her fully. “Can you hear my replies, too?”

She tilted her head. “Why don’t you try it and see what happens?”

Uncertain how else to do it, I thought the words. “Can you hear me?”

Her blonde curls bounced around her pretty face as another spurt of laughter filled the air. “Yes, I can hear you. Pretty cool, huh?

“Shit, that’s crazy. I imagine you could really screw with someone’s head that way too.”

“If Thea was here, she’d call you out for swearing,” Beau chided from the grass. Both he and Mia were glaring at me.

“Shouldn’t you be focusing?” I asked. Relenting, they looked at each other and closed their eyes again.

“So, um, what do you teach, Abilities or something? Your sister seems keen on it.”

“I work with the little kids who are expressing telepathic capabilities, yes. There are a total of seventeen in New Bodega, where I’m from, and we practice for a couple hours, three days a week.”

“I thought you were all from Hope Valley?”

Iris shrugged. “Sort of. New Bodega is the city, but Hope Valley is one of the settlements outside of the city. It’s where Jake, Zoe, and Becca are from. We all know each other, but we don’t live in the same town.”

The mention of Zoe made me stiffen. “How do you know her—Zoe, I mean?”

Iris looked me up and down, like she was sizing me up. “I take it you know who she is?”

“No, actually, but I know who Dr. Wesley is and they’re undeniably related.” I recalled Zoe’s words from yesterday. We don’t get to choose who our relations are. That was definitely the truth, but I wasn’t sure how they were related. “Is she her daughter?” She had to be a very close relation to look so similar.

“Yes,” Iris said, her voice dropping to a melancholy whisper. “She died with the General in the Hope Valley Standoff. He’s not Zoe’s father, though,” she added. “Just so we’re clear. It’s a long story.”

“But the doctor’s death is a good thing, right? I mean, she was evil.”

Iris’s gaze shifted from Mia and Beau, to me. I could tell she wasn’t sure how to answer, but I wasn’t sure if it was because she was conflicted or because she didn’t want to tell me something she shouldn’t.

“I’m not sure what you know,” Iris started, a bit hesitant, “but for all the horrible things her mother did, she did some really good things too.”

I thought about how the doctor had let Woody go, another flash of a memory I’d gleaned from my last night with Sophie. “You think she wasn’t all bad then.”

“No, I don’t. And I know that if my mother was still alive, she would’ve done whatever she could to save me and my brother too.” A wisp of longing ribboned her voice, and I imagined the truth still hurt, even if she’d come to accept it.

“None of your family made it?”

She shook her head. I didn’t remind her that was because of the doctor too.

“Yours?” she asked.

“No,” I answered easily, and I shook my head. “But I didn’t really have a family before—not like you—so it’s nothing to be sorry about.”

Iris watched me a moment. “I know it probably doesn’t feel this way, but you’re lucky then.”

“Actually,” I said, resting my elbows on my knees. I peered around at the park, washed in an ochre glow from the setting sun. “It does feel that way. Everyone at home has been through a lot, and they all still grieve. But me—I’ve gained more than I’ve lost.”

It was quiet for a minute, and I thought about how long the past two years had seemed with all that we’d been through, and yet, sitting in the park at sunset, talking to a girl my age felt strangely normal, like nothing had changed at all.

My gaze wandered to her. “If you live near Hope Valley, then you must know a lot about the General and everything that happened.”

“I know some.”

“Like what?”

Iris shoved her hands in her coat pockets, and leaned back against the bench again. “Becca was the one who led the Re-gen Rebellion. With help from Dr. Wesley.”

I wasn’t completely surprised, knowing the doctor teetered the line between bad and good so much it was confusing, but I hadn’t expected her to have a hand in something so pivotally good as that.

“They wouldn’t have been able to do it on their own.” I wondered what Sophie would say about all of this, knowing what Stanley and Woody had been through, and after losing her own family; what would Sophie say to Zoe if she met her, knowing who her mother was?

I looked at Iris again, admiring her olive skin and green eyes. They reminded me of the meadows back home, and the patches of sunlight that filtered through the trees. “So, you’re all friends?” I asked.

Iris shrugged. “Yes, I guess. We live in the same community. We protect each other. We trust each other.” She stared at me like it was a strange question. “Zoe and everyone want this new world to work, so we sailed with them up here. Alan is one of the boat captains in New Bodega. We’re a team.”

“Who’s Alan, your boyfriend or something?”

With a crumpled brow, Iris shook her head. “Not at all. He’s my dad—well, sort of. He took Mia and me in when we first showed up. I’d been on my own for a long time, and Mia came with a group of people who were actually a little wacked, and they were told to leave. But Alan wanted to adopt her—he knew she needed a stable home. He’s really nice like that.”

“If he’s here, how come I haven’t seen or met him yet?”

Iris nodded toward the City Hall building. “He’s been in a bunch of meetings. There’s talk of establishing a new trading route along the coast, and he’d be a key part of it, at least from New Bodega’s port. What about you?”

I stared at the cloudy sky, missing the late-night sunsets back home.

“Do you live somewhere on the coast?”

“No, not since the outbreak. I used to live in Anchorage, but things were really bad there, so now we live in the Yukon, on the river.”

“I always wanted to come North. Alaska always seemed so pristine and remote, but if I can’t make it there, at least I get to mark Canada off my list.” She stared at the woods in the distance. “I’m originally from Nebraska, where there are plains as far as the eye can see in either direction, so you can probably imagine why the ocean and the forests are so surreal to me.” She snorted and it made me chuckle.

“Well, I’ve never been to Nebraska, so I’ll take your word for it. In fact, this is the furthest south I’ve ever been before.”

“Really?” She smiled at that, flashing me white, straight teeth. “This is the furthest north I’ve ever been.”

“Well, what do you know.” I looked at Beau and Mia, talking where they sat on the grass with Luna in the middle as a buffer. I was glad to see they were at least getting along, and that he might actually have a friend by the time we left. And maybe I would too. “Ever since the outbreak,” I thought aloud, “I’ve wondered about other survivors and how weird it would feel to meet them. Beau and Thea, Jackson—” I pointed toward the house. “They’re all I’ve known. I knew I’d meet people here at the summit, but I thought it would feel different.”

“Different how?”

I wanted to say I hadn’t expected to meet someone like her, but I wasn’t sure what that meant. Because she was my age and pretty? Because she was smart and had a cool Ability that none of us had at home? Or because she had a new, patchwork family like I did?

“Less normal, I guess? Talking to you feels natural, like nothing’s really changed. I hadn’t expected that.”

“Really?” She grinned this time, so full she had a dimple on her left cheek. “That’s cool, because I kinda feel the same about you.”

“Just kinda?” I teased.

She laughed and tilted her head, her curls tumbling over her shoulder. “Can I ask you something?” She turned on the bench to look at me, folding one leg up against her chest. “How did you know Zoe was related to Dr. Wesley?”

“I’ve seen her,” I admitted. “Those eyes are unmistakable.”

Iris looked at my sticker again, and I could tell she was trying to put the pieces together. “You know someone who has seen her, or knew her?”

“Both. Sophie showed me what Dr. Wesley looked like though.”

“Who’s Sophie?” Iris had an open expression I rarely saw on Sophie. “A friend back home.”

“Hmm. A girlfriend?” she asked with a curious lilt.

With a nervous laugh, I shook my head. “You sure ask a lot of questions.”

“And you smile a lot when you’re deflecting.” She grinned even wider.

“No, she’s not my girlfriend. It’s nothing like that.” The truth was I wasn’t even sure Sophie and I were friends anymore, not in the sense Iris would understand.

“But you want her to be.”

I straightened and looked into Iris’s enlivened green eyes that glittered with amusement. “I think it’s going to take some time to get used to that.” I smiled because it was so damn cool she could talk to me like that, but eerily invasive at the same time. At least she couldn’t see things. I’d probably have telepathy if I touched her, and I wouldn’t have to feel anything or see things I could never unsee.

“Well, maybe if you stopped being so impatient,” Mia ground out, “you’d be able to talk to the bird.”

“Whatever, I’m not like you are.”

“I don’t have an animal, but you don’t see me crying about it.”

I nearly choked out a laugh, and looked at child-whisperer Iris for help.

She rose to her feet. “Okay, that’s enough for tonight.” That wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind, but I stood up too.

“Come on, Beau. We should go in too. It’s getting cold.”

“Actually,” Iris said, spinning around with a hopeful smile. “I was going to ask if your family wanted to join ours for dinner tonight?”

“Oh, um . . .”

“Zoe’s request, in case you thought I was inviting you on a whim.” She winked at me.

“I mean, we haven’t eaten yet. I can ask.”

“Okay,” she said with that ever-present smile of hers. “Good.”

60

Alex

I stared at the walls of the grand dining room in Iris’s house. There were two tables set to accommodate all of us, six at each table—if Kat and Becca ever showed up. It was a tight fit, but larger than our kitchenette at the house we were staying in.

Despite being two doors down, Iris’s house was much different than ours. While we had a mismatched house of chaos, including a kid room for Bert to sleep in, an office for Woody’s cot, a master bedroom for me and Beau, and a couch in the living room for Jackson, Iris’s house was regal. It was lined with hardwood floors instead of tattered and stained carpets, and it was filled with matching furniture and decorative art pieces on the walls, which I assumed was the same upstairs.

“I hope it tastes okay,” Alan said from the head of the table. He dipped his chin and cleared his throat.

I glanced up with my soupspoon halfway to my lips. Alan was the mastermind behind the beet soup, bread, and meatloaf.

“Are you kidding, we’re eating like kings,” Woody said, slurping from his bowl like a starved animal.

“We’ve been on the road a few days,” Jackson explained as he glared at Woody. “Before that, we spent a lot of time packing. We haven’t sat down for a real meal in a while.” But Woody was Woody, whether we were at home or in a stranger’s house having a nice dinner, he didn’t give etiquette much thought at all.

Clearing his throat again, Alan wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Good, I’m glad you like it. I enjoy cooking for company. Back in New Bodega, I try to host most meetings I’m a part of at the house. It’s better than a stuffy boardroom, and there’s always better food too.” His eyebrows danced a little, and I could tell cooking was his passion, no matter what other duties he had to fulfill back home.

“Alan is a jack of many trades,” Zoe said from her seat beside me. “A boat captain, a beekeeper, an amazing father to these two, and an even better chef.” She winked at Mia and Iris.

“I’m not sure I’d go that far,” he countered a little breathless, and he rubbed his chest, which I’d noticed was a nervous habit he seemed to have since we’d sat down to eat. He was about Woody’s age, or a little younger, in his mid-forties, and like most boat captains I pictured, he was a little portly and had a dark beard, only slightly graying. His eyes were beady but kind, and like Iris, he always seemed to be smiling.

“What’s it like in Whitehorse?” Jake asked, reaching for a mug of homebrew they’d brought with them. He was a muscular guy, big like Jackson, but not overly huge, and not a Northern native. He had short brown hair, a nose that was slightly crooked, and from what I could tell, he didn’t leave Zoe’s side for all that long, if he could help it.

“He’s overprotective,” she whispered, leaning in as she wiped her mouth primly. Zoe’s straight black hair fell over her shoulder. “He worries people will find out who I am and cause trouble.”

She was doing it again. “You’re in my head,” I told her.

Zoe’s finger pointed between us. “Sorry. Like I said, it’s a little harder to control what I know when you’re around. Plus knowing is a newer facet I’ve been dealing with lately. I haven’t quite honed that in yet. Lucky you.” Her mouth quirked with a smile.

“So, you’re an Empath and you read minds.”

She shrugged. “If you want to call it that. It’s all one and the same, really.”

I briefly wondered if I shouldn’t have sat next to her, but the moment I forced the question away, knowing she’d likely sense the thought, she smiled, and I knew it was too late.

“Don’t worry.” Zoe winked. “I’m a quick study. I’ll get the hang of it.”

“It’s big,” Jackson explained, swallowing a bite of meatloaf. “The city was once thousands and now there are eleven of us—”

“Thirteen,” Beau interjected. “You forgot about Kat and Jenny.”

“Right.” Jackson glanced around the table. “There are two new additions.”

“Kat was very interested in what Becca had to say yesterday,” Zoe said. “She came up to us afterward.” She looked from Jackson to Woody and Bert. “This Re-gen you know, is that who Kat is trying to save?”

“Save?” Jackson frowned. “What do you mean?” His eyes darted around the table.

I could feel the flush in my cheeks, as it dawned on Jackson that he was in the dark.

Zoe looked at me, reading me instantly. “That she’s weak, from the treatments,” she added. “Sorry, I misspoke.” But that was a lie. One I was thankful for, for now. “Becca knows everything about Re-gens, she’s their leader. She will help your friend.”

“I don’t have to be a mind reader like Zoe to know that was a close call,” Iris mind-whispered.

“Tell me about it,” I muttered, forgetting I didn’t have to speak, and I glanced across the table at her. She looked curious, but mostly relieved for me.

Jackson cleared his throat and continued. “Anyway, we have the hydro power plant up and running. It’s a lot of work during the winter, when the river is too low to keep it going, but with more hands we could run it year-round—and the entire city, even the surrounding villages, would be sustainable. We could easily house more settlers, once we get the infrastructure in place.”

“From what I hear, the North could use a solid location,” Jake said. “And if we re-open the Alaska Marine Highway, it will be beneficial to Whitehorse too. And Whitehorse would be beneficial to us. The food sources you have there alone would be . . .”

“I can tell you don’t like Zoe very much, but she seems to like you.”

I looked at Iris again as she tore off a piece of bread and dipped it in her soup. It was hard not to smile at how strange it was to hear her voice, without her even having to look at me. “I’m not sure why.” I studied Zoe’s profile, wondering if she could somehow hear my silent conversation with Iris. “She’s very . . . assertive, I’ll give her that.”

A small smile pulled at Iris’s lips as she pretended to listen to Jackson and Jake’s conversation. “She’s an original, you know? Her and her brother, Jason, were born with Abilities. The outbreak only stirred them awake. It’s why her power is so strong and still changing.” If Zoe’s mom was Dr. Wesley, I didn’t doubt Zoe was quite the concoction.

“So . . .”

I looked at Iris across the table, but still she didn’t look at me.

“Want to go on a walk after dinner? We could explore the beach by the docks. The sun doesn’t really set until, what, like ten or something here right?”

I swallowed thickly. “I don’t know, but . . . Yeah, sure.” It was dumb to hesitate, and I wasn’t sure why I did.

“Don’t sound too excited about it.” This time her eyes met mine and I felt like an ass.

“Sorry, I guess I’m still getting used to this whole telepathy thing.”

Iris took a drink from her water glass, eyeing me over the brim of it. “Meet me outside after I finish helping with the dinner dishes.”

I didn’t respond. I felt weird saying I would. But I wanted to go with her, didn’t I? And there was no reason not to.

I stared down at my meatloaf, trying not to think about Sophie. Even if I barely knew Iris—even if it was just a walk—it didn’t feel right.

“This girl you’re thinking about,” Zoe mused so quietly it was as if she hadn’t spoken at all. She peered around at everyone’s side conversations, giving nothing away. “You love her?”

“Iris?” I whispered.

“No, Sophie.” She gave me a sideways glance. “You try to forget her, almost convince yourself that you do, and yet you’re holding back.”

“I need you to stay out of my head, please,” I said tersely, glaring at her.

“I’m only telling you what you need to hear, and then I won’t say another word.”

“Yeah right,” I muttered.

“I can tell you one thing, and you can choose to believe it or ignore it, but we Empaths feel so much, it’s absolutely overwhelming and confusing at times.”

“I know. Trust me.” Sophie’s Ability was problematic, but this was beyond that. “Her Ability isn’t the problem anymore.” It was a walking shadow who smiled too much by the name of Phil.

“Are you sure he’s the problem?” Zoe quirked an eyebrow at me, and her bright eyes shimmered like she knew a secret. I hated it when women did that, like they magically knew all your secrets and insecurities you wanted to keep hidden, and it didn’t have to be Ability related. “Regardless, you still feel a pull to her that’s undeniable, just as Jake and I always have. We have been fated since the beginning, and if you continue to ignore your fate you might just lose your mind. Ask him.” Her gaze darted to him with a little more amusement.

Jake looked at us, then did a double take, registering Zoe’s smirk. He must’ve been used to it, because he didn’t speak and refocused on Bert and Jackson again as they discussed the possibility of mass-produced biodiesels back home.

“No offense, Zoe, but—”

“You don’t want to hear my opinion.” She pretended to zip and lock her lips shut and then she winked. I doubted it was as simple as that, but as the conversation around the table continued, Zoe didn’t look at me or offer me unwanted opinions.

“Were you military?” Woody asked Jake, tossing his napkin onto the table in surrender as he rubbed his full stomach.

“No, a mechanic by trade.” He popped the last of his bread into his mouth. “Zoe’s brother, Jason, is military though—and a few of our friends.”

“That’s handy,” I said.

Jake dipped his chin, and I realized I didn’t know what his teal-colored sticker meant. “What’s your Ability again? I don’t have my little identifier sheet, but I don’t remember seeing that color.”

“It’s because he’s the only one,” Mia explained, and I caught sight of the tablecloth moving between her and Beau as they snuck food to Luna. I lifted a warning eyebrow at Beau.

“Really, the only one?” Woody’s eyebrows danced with intrigue. “Pray tell, what is it?”

There was a pause, and when no one answered, Jake forfeited the silence, “Regeneration.”

“Like the Re-gens?” Woody asked, clearly confused. He nudged Bert, who was falling asleep in the chair beside him. Bert snorted awake and peered around the room sleepily.

“No,” Jake said carefully. “I heal quickly.”

“More like he’s been burned alive before and recovered,” Iris added.

“You’re the one,” I breathed, remembering what Kat had told us.

“You hear, that, Jake? You’re famous.” Alan patted him on the shoulder.

“Wonderful,” he grumbled, and gulped down the rest of his beer. “Just wonderful.”

With a chuckle, Alan clamped him on the shoulder again and winced, but whatever was wrong, he brushed it off quickly. “Cheer up, my friend. It was only a matter of—” His face contorted then crumpled in pain as he hit at his chest with his fist, gasping and coughing for breath.

“Dad?” Mia shrieked.

Iris screamed and jolted to her feet. “Alan?” Her chair thudded to the wood floor and she reached for his shoulders. “Alan,” she cried, “do you need water?” She looked in my direction. “He’s choking!”

“He’s going into cardiac arrest.” Jackson realized aloud, and he ran around the table to Alan. “Help me get him to the floor,” he commanded, and Jake helped ease Alan down. The room echoed with violent choking and sobs, and the moment Alan stopped breathing, Jackson began to administer CPR. “We need—shit, we need a medic—we need a defibrillator.”

Mia and Iris’s cries pierced the air as their guardian gasped for breath.

A flash of familiar faces filled my mind—my mother and grandma, Bella, and my stepfather. All of them dead because of me, because I couldn’t save them. Shame. Devastation. Panic. It was all I could do not to punch my fist against the table defiantly. They couldn’t lose Alan, not after everything that had happened.

All I knew was that Alan couldn’t be one of them. Not now.

Alan can’t die.

61

Alex

Pushing past Zoe, I grabbed Jake’s arm and crouched down beside Alan, unconscious on the floor. I had no idea what I was doing until it was nearly done.

I clutched Alan’s wrist as Jake’s strength hummed through my fingertips, burning through my muscles and whirring through my blood. I’d never felt so strong before, and yet I couldn’t feel anything in Alan as I squeezed his arm tighter. I had to connect them, it’s what my mind told me to do—the way a spark starts a flame.

Milliseconds felt like minutes as Jake’s energy flowed into me, a whir of raw power and heat, until finally Alan gasped for air. His face was red, his chest was heaving, and his eyes began to close, but he was breathing and no longer choking for breath.

Iris and Mia grabbed onto him, crying with both fear and relief, as he lay there unconscious. “Is he going to be okay?” Iris squeaked with an anxious whisper.

“Yes,” Jackson promised. He checked Alan’s throat for a pulse. “He’s breathing. He’s okay.”

With a tug, Jake pulled his arm from my grasp, and when I looked over, he began to waver beside me.

“A little help!” Zoe shouted the instant it happened, and reached out to steady him, wincing under his weight.

Woody hurried over to help Zoe get Jake into the living room, and as I stood to help them, my head spun a little and my heart was beating so fast, I thought I might pass out. Bert pulled out a chair for me to sit. “Easy, kid.”

“Beau, get them some water,” Jackson called, and he hurried into the living room after Jake.

A full glass of water appeared in front of me, but I wasn’t thirsty. I was exhausted. My mind felt like it was crashing and my limbs felt heavy. I wasn’t sure what I’d done, or if I should have attempted it, but I prayed like hell I’d made the right call. Alan is alive, I reminded myself.

“It’s not working, get him on the couch,” Zoe said from the living room, more shrill than I would’ve expected, and I began to panic. Pulling myself up to my feet, I stumbled toward them. With grunts and groans, Woody and Jackson laid Jake out on the couch.

“Will he be okay?” I knew Jake couldn’t die, but could he be drained of his Ability? What if he couldn’t regenerate anymore? The truth was I had no idea what I’d done, and if it would even keep Alan alive. Maybe it was a short-term fix and Jake’s power would drain away—Alan would die and Jake would become unconscious. What if I’d just killed two more people? “Zoe,” I bit out. “Will he—”

“This happens,” she admitted, her arms crossed over her chest as she chewed anxiously on her bottom lip. She stared at Jake, eyes wide and worried.

“Then why do you look so nervous?” I braced myself against the living room wall.

She almost glared at me. “It doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”

I swallowed thickly. “Sorry—I, I didn’t know what to do.”

But just as my mind began to spiral again, Zoe turned to me. She walked over and stopped so close to my face I thought she might slap me, but I didn’t recoil, knowing I probably deserved it. “You made the right call,” she reassured me, her voice surprisingly level. “Stop second-guessing yourself. You saved a man’s life, and Jake will be fine.”

“Then why do you seem so pissed off?” I bit back at her, my heart racing with panic.

“I’m not, I’m surprised.” Her voice was more tremulous than before, and she took a step back. “You’re a conduit, but I never thought—” She shook her head. “I never really thought about what you were capable of, until now.” She looked at me, her eyes less narrowed this time. “I’ve been where you are, feeling like you’re somehow responsible for all the horrible things in your life, trust me. But you’re not, so stop dwelling on it.” She stared into my eyes so fiercely, I thought I should feel violated or vulnerable. “No matter what you think you are, Alex,” she said calmly, “or how much you worry about what you’ve done, you are a good man. All the assholes and shitheads in the world who tried to bring you down don’t change that.” She pointed to Alan in the other room. “You saved a man who is practically a stranger, uncertain what harm it would do to you—”

“Or Jake,” I added, because it felt like she was letting me off the hook for endangering his life.

“No.” She nearly smiled. “You still see yourself as a boy incapable of being a man of worth. But you knew deep down that Jake would be okay, or you wouldn’t have done it. You of all people wouldn’t have risked hurting him, because you already know the toll it would take on you and everyone else if it had.” She stared at me, waiting for me to understand.

I wanted to tell her that she didn’t know me at all, she knew nothing about me or what I thought, but as she stood there, maddeningly certain, I felt seen for the first time because I couldn’t hide from her or pretend she couldn’t see the truth.

“It’s your fear that makes you second-guess yourself all the time,” Zoe’s voice was low, willing me to listen. “But not everyone will reject or judge you if you let them in. Until you understand that, you will only see what you want to see and find reasons to push people who love you away.”

It felt like more of a scolding than Zoe’s observation. “You’re talking about Sophie,” I realized.

As if she’d decided she was done imparting her learned wisdom, Zoe went to Jake’s side.

I wasn’t sure if it was Zoe’s irritating certainty or knowing how powerful her Ability was, but I believed her. Or at least, I wanted to. Adrenaline was still buzzing inside me, and I felt almost out of my own body, like I was strong and weak at the same time, even high on the fact that I had done something more than helpful for a change—something worthy. Zoe’s words held weight and lingered in my mind. Feeling a sense of pride, I wanted to tell Sophie.

The front door clattered opened and Kat and Becca walked in. “Sorry we’re late,” Kat apologized, then froze in the entry. “What the hell,” she breathed and glanced between Alan and Jake’s bodies.

Becca stared at Jake, her expression giving nothing away.

“Alan went into cardiac arrest,” Jackson explained, and walked over to Jake, then bent down to check his pulse again.

“And Alex saved him,” Iris whispered behind me.

“That’s not entirely true,” I said, turning around. “Jake—” Her arms wrapped around me and her body began to shudder as she cried into my shoulder.

“Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me. Just—thank you.”

62

Sophie

Phil and I were lying on my bed in my room, staring up at the ceiling. Strips of setting sunlight lined the stark white walls as we laughed about a blurry thought. It had been so hard to get to this point, but now, every worry, and every question was a distant, scrambled shadow of a memory I couldn’t grasp. I felt lighter and whole again.

“We should never leave this place,” I cooed, releasing it on a breath like a wish. All I could think about was how happy I was that Phil was mine. Finally. She was gone, and I never had to move from this place of existence again. I stroked my hand down Phil’s arm as he lay beside me, his rich, languid eyes smiling at me. I could lay like this, without a care in the world, until I breathed my last breath.

Everything was quiet. Everything was finally . . . right.

“I love you,” I said. Phil loved Sophie, and I loved Phil, and now we could be together. Now I could finally have him back. “I’ll always love you, and we’ll never be parted from each other again.”

My mind flickered between light and dark—serenity and fear. Sophie? Why was I thinking about myself like I was someone else?

Phil sat up on his elbows with a chuckle. “Of course we won’t,” he promised. He reached out and stroked my cheek with an adoration that made my heart ache with an inexplicable bliss.

“Tell me you love me,” I urged, desperate to hear the words. “Promise me.” I yearned for it like the scorched earth craved water.

Phil looked deep into my soul, his gaze a rope that pulled me in until I was only a hairbreadth from his lips.

Wrapping my arm around him, I pulled him closer, feeding off of every memory and every image. I needed him to stay here, closer to me. I wouldn’t be able to live without him. “Tell me,” I urged.

“I love you, Sophie.” His eyes burned with lust, but I hated the sound of her name on his lips, I loathed it and the way it always rolled so easily off his tongue, but I let him kiss me.

I kissed Phil harder, and willed him to devour me, and feel something good for once. Not as her, but as me—for just once, I wanted it to be about me. I’d waited so incredibly long for this.

He tore his lips from mine. “I would die for you, Soph—”

“No,” I growled. “Nora.”

My mind flickered again, halting and sputtering to catch up with itself, and I knew this wasn’t me. I wasn’t in control. “This is wrong,” I said, pushing Phil off of me. “This is all wrong.” I peered around my room, frantic, as it became a hazy, unfamiliar place. It was a husk, a farce.

I gulped for air as my mind seemed to close in around itself. “What’s happening?” When I stared up at Phil, really looked at his face, I could see how strange it all was, like my mind was waking up for the first time, and my hands began to shake.

Phil’s eyes were too amber and too clear, and his lashes were too long, like a porcelain doll. His teeth were too straight and white. His hair was too long, and his features were more narrowed. He was a sickening imitation of real life—perfection that didn’t exist. He was a fantasy, but not my fantasy. A dense fog, so heavy my heart began to ache as it tried to settle over me.

“What is this?” I rasped. “What are you?” As panic flooded through my veins and swirled in my head, I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to force my mind to consciousness. Wake up, Sophie. “Wake up,” I commanded. “Wake the hell up!” But the more I tried, the pricklier the fog became, sharpening with every twisting independent thought.

The more the fog settled, the less coherent my thoughts became, and I could feel my mind slipping away from me again. “No,” I breathed. I willed my eyes to open again, pushing so hard, I felt my mind snap, and I saw a flash of her again—of Nora surrounded by absolute darkness. Her eyes were chartreuse, and she had a repugnant scar that ran the length of her face, from her right temple to her cheek. This creature wasn’t a memory or a dream, she was a monster and she was real and in my head, looking directly at me.

Her lip curled as she seethed my name.

“Get out of my head,” I choked out, holding on to whatever was left of my sanity and determination. It was barely a string floating away in the breeze, slipping—slipping away, my mind going with it.

She was powerful, and she was squeezing my consciousness in her grasp, like a crumpled piece of paper.

“Get out of my head,” I murmured, trying to shake her cerebral fingers from me. “Get out!” Closing my eyes once more, I squeezed my hands into fists, hitting my thighs over and over as I began to fall further and further into darkness. Into an abyss I knew I might not wake from this time. “I said, get out!”

63

Alex

I sat on the bench across the street from the house, unable to sleep after the chaos at dinner, long after everyone else had gone to bed. I didn’t meet Iris for our walk because her dad had nearly died, and staying in for the night was best. Or so I’d thought. All I could think about was what Zoe had said to me.

Yes, I was well aware of how scared I was all the time, not of looming shadows or myself, but of much worse things—gut-wrenching things, like heartbreak. I didn’t want to feel weak, and Sophie made me feel vulnerable and powerless, because she couldn’t make a decision that seemed so fucking simple.

I exhaled at the thought, like I’d been holding my breath all of these months, trying to wrap my mind around it. When she’d wanted me, I’d pushed her away like the coward I was. When I wanted her, she’d wavered, and I couldn’t stomach that either.

There were mushy footsteps in the grass behind me, and I glanced back to see Kat coming toward me. Her blonde hair hung down at her sides, and her street clothes were still on, but more rumpled than usual.

“Where were you?” I asked, because she hadn’t been at the house with everyone else.

“Walking.” She sat down beside me and leaned her elbows on her knees with a sigh. “So, you saved the night, huh? Look at you, finding your groove so far away from home already.”

I thought about Alan’s red-and-white blotched faced and his gaping mouth at the dinner table. “Is that what it is, a groove?” I peered up at the inky sky, still digesting everything that had happened. “Anyone would’ve done the same thing, if they could.”

“Yeah, well, they couldn’t and you did. And those girls have a dad, or whatever he is to them, because of you.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Wow, way to celebrate the moment,” Kat muttered. “I guess I should leave you alone so you can wallow in your victory.”

I chuckled, uncertain how we’d gotten along without her unrelenting sarcasm before she’d shown up. “Well, when you say it like that . . .”

With a smirk, she pulled a piece of paper from the breast pocket of her t-shirt.

“Any luck finding the answers you were looking for?” I realized I hadn’t asked much about it. I only knew she was here to find a cure for JJ. To do what, exactly, I wasn’t certain. “Zoe said Becca would be able to help you.”

The small trace of openness that Kat had expressed vanished, and she stared at the paper she fiddled with in her lap. “Yeah. I have a couple answers, right here, actually.” She held up the piece of paper and unfolded it. It was the size of her palm, and she lifted it to show me.

I leaned in. “Coordinates? To where?”

“The village Becca lives in. There are other Re-gens there, and they’ve found out how to heal their failing bodies.”

“What’s the other one?”

She glanced at me. “What?”

“You said you have a couple answers. What’s the other one?”

Kat folded the paper in half, staring at it like she was convincing herself to keep it.

“Me.”

I stared at her, assuming an explanation was coming. Finally, she looked at me and wiggled her fingers, like she suddenly had jazz hands.

“What, your Ability?”

Reluctantly, she nodded. “Apparently, if I got this under control, I could help her, the same way I accidently brought her back to life—electroshock.”

“That sounds . . . terrifying.” Kat stared at me, like she was waiting for me to say something else. “So, you have two answers and you don’t seem happy about either of them because . . .?”

She flipped the paper over and over between her fingers. “Because,” she finally breathed, “no matter how much I want her to, I don’t think she’ll do it—either of them.”

“You mean, she doesn’t want to get better?”

Kat shrugged.

“Not for Elle, or for you? She loves you, why would she want to leave you?” Even if distance had always seemed like the right answer when it came to Sophie and me, in an instance of life or death, I’d do anything and everything I had to for Sophie if it came down to it, no matter the cost to me. I wouldn’t think twice about it. “JJ would do it. Of course she would,” I said, hoping to reassure us both. I didn’t know JJ well, and I barely knew Kat, but human instinct was to live, not to die.

“You’re right, she might change her mind for Elle, but not for me.”

Kat continued to flip the folded paper over and over, until I thought she might wear it to nothing. “That’s the pesky thing about memories, you have to actually have them to feel one way or the other. And JJ doesn’t remember me.”

“But if she loves you—”

Kat snorted and shook her head. “Loved,” she corrected. “Past tense, before I brought her back.”

“Then—” I hesitated, “why are you going to all of this trouble for her? Why have you been looking for answers all of this time, if you know she won’t change her mind?”

With an unexpected sniffle, Kat shrugged, refusing to look at me as she slid the paper back into her breast pocket. “Hope, I guess. You of all people know we can’t choose who we love. No matter how much it hurts.”

I cleared my throat. “You mean Sophie.”

Kat gasped and clutched her chest dramatically. “I’m sorry, was I not supposed to know about you guys, because it’s super obvious,” she deadpanned. “You guys clearly have a thing.”

“A thing? What’s that mean?”

Kat tilted her head like I was dense. “You know a thing, a connection. A gravitational pull to one another. It’s what I had with JJ when we met. I fought it for the longest time, and even left my boyfriend for her.” She almost barked a laugh.

“Wait, you like guys too?”

With a groan, Kat glared at me. “I love people,” she clarified. “And I couldn’t resist JJ, just like you can’t resist Sophie, even if it doesn’t make sense. Being with JJ was never part of my job.” Kat’s eyebrows drew together and her animation withered again. “The thing between us, I think it’s why I couldn’t let her die in the first place. I wasn’t supposed to save her—it wasn’t part of the plan. Monitors don’t get to choose whether or not they obey orders, but somehow, I could.”

Wow. I’d gone from dwelling in my measly, insignificant problems to talking about death, Kat’s love life, and learning how screwed I truly was with Sophie if unrequited love was as bad as that.

“So, now that you’ve found the answers you need, what are you going to do?” I asked. “Are you going to tell her?”

“Yes, for my sanity I think I have to, but my gut tells me it won’t change anything.” Kat stood up, heaving out a breath. “What about you, what does your gut tell you about your thing? Are you going to keep flirting with that cute girl in there, or are you still holding out for Sophie.”

“She has Phil—”

Kat snorted. “You don’t seriously believe that, do you—and don’t just say yes. Do you honestly believe that Sophie loves Phil?”

“No,” I said, surprising myself. “I guess I don’t.” I knew she was going through a lot, and I knew I wasn’t there for her the way I could’ve been—the way I should’ve been. It dawned on me that Sophie might not really, truly know how I felt about her either. I’d never told her I loved her. I’d never allowed myself to be so open until right before I left, because I always worried I’d let her down in some way.

“So then, it’s a male pride thing that’s stopping you?”

“No,” I corrected her. I was done talking about Sophie and me with everyone else. “It’s a self-preservation thing.”

Kat frowned and she shook her head.

“Look, I get it, okay? I’m an idiot.” The more I thought about it, the more I realized it was true. Even Sophie had said something was off with her Ability. I might’ve even felt it if I hadn’t let my ego get in the way. “Now, will you leave it alone please? Between you and Zoe, I’m going to lose my damn mind.”

“Oh good, my job here is done.” Kat threw up her hands. “Now, back to my own brooding,” she muttered, and with a wink she nodded into the shadows. “Looks like you have another visitor anyway.”

Jake nodded at her as she walked by him, and he stopped at the bench. “Zoe thought I might find you out here.”

“Of course she did,” I grumbled. Jake chuckled, a baritone sound that reminded me of Jackson, and he sat down where Kat had been, only the bench groaned a little bit more in protest. “I’m surprised you’re awake. I thought you might need more time to recuperate after—”

“I slept enough. I feel too rested to sleep anymore.” Jake looked at me. “That’s actually why I came out here. Zoe mentioned you felt bad about what you did.” He shook his head. “You shouldn’t.”

Jake seemed like the type of guy you listened to without interrupting, and his words carried so much weight, they broached no argument. So I didn’t.

“This life is all about tough choices now, and God knows I’ve had to make my share of them.”

“At dinner tonight, Zoe told me to accept my fate, like you had to do.”

“Did she now?” His eyebrow curved, but I wasn’t sure if it was with amusement or exasperation.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.”

“It’s fine. I came to terms with it a long time ago. It’s just, Zoe’s pulling out the big guns for you. She must like you.”

“Lucky me,” I said.

“It is lucky.” Jake looked at me. “She doesn’t talk about our personal life with anyone, well except for Dani, but, that’s a given.”

“Dani?”

“Her best friend, they’ve been through hell together.” Jake sighed and leveled his gaze on me.

“What is it she wants me to know? Something riveting, I’m sure.”

“In short? Learn from us, kid, and seize the day because misery sucks, trust me. I’ve tried to outrun prophecies and give Zoe space to find herself. Hell, between poisoning, memory loss, kidnapping . . . I’ve lost her more times than I even want to count, and it’s made getting this far pure agony.”

“Holy shit.”

“Tell me about it.” He chuckled and scratched his stubbled jaw. “I don’t know squat about your love life, Alex, but Zoe must see a lot of us in you, and if it’s advice she wants me to give you then . . .”

Jake leaned back in the bench and crossed his muscular arms over his chest. He zoned out for a second, losing himself in the past, or he was trying to find a few shiny pearls of wisdom.

“Fate,” he finally said. “Embrace it, or it will drive you fucking crazy.”

64

Sophie

“I said, get out!” I screamed, knowing it wasn’t real. I was still sleeping, and it was all in my mind. It was what would happen if Nora gained too much control that I feared, because the more I allowed myself to feel her presence, the more I felt her utter desperation to have my mind. She was all around me, like the thick wet heat of a sauna, oppressive and clinging to everything. I couldn’t rise above her.

As my dream wielder reeled my mind in closer, though, I could feel the synapses of her mind, not just her power. I could feel it buzzing and humming around me, charging the air. I could feel her desperation and the need she had to keep me in her grasp. She’d been needling her way in for so long, it was almost as if she was already tethered to me, posed to live this fantasy life she so frantically craved. But like everyone else, she was broken. I needed to find a weakness, and the only way to do that was to embrace her, terror and all.

With the remaining shred of willpower I had left, I did the only thing I could think of. Instead of resisting her, I embraced her and prodded further into her mind. I reached out with my cerebral fingers to grab hold of her memories, the way she clutched onto mine. Then, I let all my inhibitions go.

My resistance vanished, my poorly constructed walls crumbled, and I could see my puppet master, grotesque and vicious as she was. Nora’s darkness, rage, and desire turned to loneliness and fear as her memories swallowed me.

She wasn’t much older than me, and she was happy once. I saw her walking through Whitehorse, holding hands with a man that smiled dotingly at her. I felt the pinch of her engagement ring between their clasped hands. He had the most miniscule resemblance to Phil—tall, brown hair, brown eyes.

I felt her adoration tear to shreds as a flash of a woman with bloodshot eyes and matted dark hair tore at her fiancé’s throat, feasting on him like she was a rabid animal, while Nora hid behind a dumpster, sobbing silently as she watched.

I saw her walking numbly through the streets, unblinking, weak, and unkempt. Lost and listless. Her mind was hollow. Her feet raw to the bone, but she didn’t care. Her mind was nestled away in a protective nest, hope and reality lost with it.

I saw the locker room at the gym Alex and I had secured, only there was a crazed woman inside—the same woman—hungry and feral, and she was coming for Nora. Tears stained Nora’s fleshy cheek as the woman lunged at her, slashing Nora’s flesh, but she didn’t care. Death was better than loneliness.

There was a flash of a little girl’s face and Nora shaking and bleeding; but it was her standing in her apartment window, watching us from across the street that stole my attention. It was her trigger. The moment she saw me and Phil she awoke from her mindless haze. A primal, all-consuming need and determination consumed her, a crazed desire to make me her vessel. I was a ripe, shattered mind she could feel more easily than the others, and I had Phil.

I burrowed deeper into her mind, clawing for the crevasses she didn’t want me to see.

She was strong and had months to meddle in my dreams and sift through my memories, wiggling her way in at every possible moment, but I needed to break her connection to me. I had to distract her and loosen her grasp if I was going to be the one to get away this time. I knew instantly what she feared most, and no matter how cruel, it was my only power against her.

“You can’t have my life, Nora!” The moment I thought her name, my head felt like it was splitting in two. “You’re broken and foul-hearted, and if you hurt me, Phil will never forgive you. He doesn’t love you—he will never love you. You’re a monster and he’ll see you for what you are.” As my words jarred her consciousness, her grip loosened and the pain eased ever so slightly. “You kill everything you touch,” I continued. “You don’t deserve happiness. You don’t deserve my Phil.”

“Shut up!” she screeched, and my body physically cringed.

“You’ll be alone forever,” I told her, more composed this time. “You won’t have Phil, because he’s too good for you. And you can’t have him without me.”

“Shut up! Shut up!” she shouted. “You’re a stupid whore who doesn’t know what she wants. You’re pathetic. You’re the one who doesn’t deserve any of it.”

As much as it stung to hear the words, she was wrong. Phil was my family, just like Alex and Elle and the rest of them.

“You don’t deserve any of them, Sophie! You’re weak—you’ll always be weak and you’re not worthy of a family! You’re not worthy of him!”

“You can’t have any of them,” I told her, bolstered with a renewed sense of determination. She didn’t just want Phil and me; she wanted everything she knew she’d never have again. “You can’t have me, either.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said with a fiendish laugh. “You were a means to an end, and I don’t need you anymore.”

I gasped for breath, peering around my bedroom. She let me go. Why did she let me go?

Sitting up, I patted my arms and face, never more grateful to feel my sweat-drenched skin. The sun was up. I was awake. I would’ve laughed with relief if her words didn’t still ring in my head.

Tossing off my blankets, I jumped out of bed and flung open my door. “Elle!” I rushed down the stairs. By the look of the sun in the eastern window I knew it was late morning and she was already outside. “Elle!” I shouted.

The screen door opened, and JJ stood in the doorway with a laundry basket tucked against her hip, her tired eyes wide with fear. “Sophie, you look ill—?”

“I need Elle. Where’s Elle?” I said in a rush, running past her to the railing. “She was in my head, JJ. She let me go. I don’t know why, but she let me go. She’s going to do something.”

I peered out at the pasture but didn’t see Thea or Elle. I didn’t see Phil or Ross.

“Elle went to the prison with Ross. There are a few things they needed—”

I grabbed hold of JJ’s shoulders, willing her to understand. “There is something wrong. She was in my head—Nora. This whole time she was in my dreams, manipulating them. She was making me think I was crazy, and now—”

JJ’s shoulders tensed and she dropped the laundry basket on the deck with a thud. “Someone was in your dreams?”

“Yes, her name is Nora, and she wants Phil. She’s feeding off my memories and is lost in a world that’s not real—”

“Sophie,” JJ breathed and took a deep, steadying breath. “Dreamwalkers are very dangerous. We have to find—”

A small scream filled the air far across the river, and my blood ran cold.

“Thea,” JJ whispered.

Before I knew what was happening, I ran into the house, snatched Jackson’s rifle hidden under the couch, and ran down the steps on bare feet as Thea’s screams tore through the sky.

65

Elle

Ross, Stanley, and I stood in the covered side yard outside the first cellblock.

“Everything is flourishing in this area right now,” Stanley said, scratching his cheek as he surveyed his summer garden. “I hate to move it all. Do you think I have to?”

I bent down to test the moisture in the soil, admiring Stanley’s hard work. The beanstalks and tomatoes inundated the northern corner after weeks of trial and error, looking for just the right spot. I wasn’t sure if it was Stanley’s patience or if he had a green thumb, but he was a much better gardener than Woody. But then, Woody was so scatterbrained, I wasn’t all that surprised.

“I assume we should move it,” Ross said, “but I’m not the head landscaper around this joint,” he joked and pointed at me instead.

I looked at Stanley with an apologetic smile. “Yes, as frustrating as it is, when the time comes, I think the garden should be moved indoors. Unless we want to turn this old workout area into a greenhouse, like ours at the farm. Then you’ll be able to plant here year-round—”

“Elle!”

I froze as a voice cried my name, and a cold chill trickled down my back. I glanced around the side yard.

“Elle?” Ross’s voice held the same concern that made the hair on my arms and neck stand on end. “Are you okay? I swear your skin just turned ten shades paler.” He shifted the rifle hanging over his shoulder and leaned closer.

“I—” I swallowed thickly. “I could’ve sworn I heard someone call my name.”

Stanley and Ross looked at one another. “Perhaps you should sit down, Miss Elle,” said Stanley, but I shook my head as they began to fuss over me, and I pushed Ross’s hand away.

“Something’s wrong,” I told them, even if I didn’t understand it. “There was a voice . . . in my head—it said my name.” My heart began to pound in my chest, and I tried to catch my breath. It made no sense. I’d never heard anyone’s voice in my head, and somehow it seemed familiar . . . and urgent.

“Miss Elle, sit down for a moment,” Stanley insisted.

“Elle, hurry!”

I whipped around frantically searching for the voice, though I knew it was for naught. “Hurry? What—where?”

“Elle, you’re scaring the shit out of me,” Ross chided. “Jackson will kill me if you lose your mind while he’s gone.”

I clutched his arm, my fingers pressing into his flesh as I tried to convince myself I wasn’t crazy, and how somewhere deep down I knew it was somehow linked to Sophie and Thea. “Something’s wrong.” The words were hushed and rushed and filled with horror.

Without another second of hesitation, I reached for my pistol, holstered on my hip, and ran through the side yard toward the truck. “Hurry up!” I shouted, but Ross and Stanley’s frantic footsteps and my voice were barely audible as every flame-enveloped nerve inside me turned cold with deadly determination. If someone hurt them, I would set their world aflame.

66

Alex

I’d been spoiled since Whitehorse, and hadn’t had to use a wash bin and cold water to bathe or wash my face in months. I was too tired from not sleeping all night to care much though.

I stared into the bathroom mirror, water dripping off my face. Kat had been right. I let my ego get in the way of what Sophie and I shared, and the connection neither of us could shake. If I’d just listened to her, really listened, I might’ve been able to help her, instead of pushing her further away and closer to Phil. She was clearly struggling in ways I hadn’t given much thought to, and I’d left her behind. Again.

I dried off my face and pulled a clean long-sleeve shirt over my head. At least I had a couple weeks to figure out what, exactly, I was going to do to fix things with Sophie.

When I opened the bathroom door, Beau was standing in the hallway, bare-chested and wearing a pair of khaki pants with his shirt folded under his arm.

“Took you long enough,” he grumbled, but I didn’t let him egg me on. Instead, I pissed him off even more by rumpling the top of his head as I stepped past him. “Good morning to you too, bud. You snored last night.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yep. You did.”

I could smell coffee in the kitchen, which meant Bert and Jackson were awake, so I hurried down the steps and beelined for the kitchen and the caffeine.

Jackson sat at the kitchenette with Bert, and both of them were staring at me.

I slid to a stop in sock-covered feet on the laminate floors. “Uh, good morning?”

“Where were you all night?” Jackson asked, eyeing me over the brim of his mug.

“Where do you think he was?” Bert said with a sneaky grin. “He saved a cute girl’s dad last night. She was probably thanking him all night long.”

“Gross,” I growled, half amused, but mostly disturbed by Bert’s insinuation. “Why do you have to make everything so creepy?”

Jackson snorted and glanced between us.

“Anyway, I was just . . . up. Thinking.” When I turned to the coffee pot, I momentarily panicked that there wasn’t enough left.

“There’s a half a cup or so,” Bert said. “Want me to make more? I’m sure you need it.” He winked at me.

Rolling my eyes, I poured myself what was left and headed over to the table to pull on my shoes. “Did you hear what Huck mentioned about the Ability-reversal serum idea—”

The front door busted open. “Jackson!” a raspy voice called. He and I looked at one another and rushed to the living room. Becca stood in the entry, glancing frantically around. “You have to go home—”

“What?” Jackson bellowed. “Why?”

“Now!” she shouted. “I saw a woman. She had a scarred face. I saw flames everywhere, and—” She hesitated, and my heart jumped into my throat, no longer beating as I held my breath.

“And what?” Bert urged.

“Death,” she breathed. “I felt death.”

Sophie.

“Elle.” Jackson ground out.

Before Becca could tell us we needed to leave again, we were running for our things. If something happened to Sophie, I could never live with myself. Not without her knowing how I still felt about her, and that I would help her—I would fight for her.

My vision blurred, imagining any of them hurt.

I could barely run to Beau fast enough. I pounded on the bathroom door as I rushed past, and into our room. “Beau. Hurry. We have to go, our family’s in trouble.” I just prayed with every single sliver of hope that we wouldn’t be too late.

67

Sophie

With bare feet, I ran through the woods, stopping only to listen for another scream, a rustle in the leaves—something that would indicate where Thea had gone.

This is my fault.

I should’ve known sooner.

I should’ve told Elle so she wouldn’t have left.

Thea had to scream again, or cry out if I was going to find her, and soon, before the fear of the unimaginable sank in and I lost what was left of cohesive thought completely. I was about to shout her name, when the rumbling roar of a bear echoed through the woods.

My already pounding heart seized, then I heard Thea scream again, small and scared, and tears burned my eyes. “Thea!” I sprinted toward the chuffing growls. The hunting cabin. Innately, I knew that’s where she would be. Sticks poked the bottoms of my feet, and the rifle was heavy and slick in my sweating hands as I forced myself to run faster, harder, and deeper into the woods.

“Thea—” I nearly fell through a break in the trees, outside the cabin.

“Thea,” I breathed. The grizzly paced, agitated and pawing at the ground as Thea and another girl, a couple years older with choppy brown hair that hung in her face, whimpered against the cabin. Thea clung to the girl as they huddled together, but despite the girl’s worried brow, she didn’t have tears in her eyes the way Thea did. She didn’t look afraid.

“Thea,” I said as steadily as I could, and I raised my rifle. “Don’t move—”

“No!” the little girl shouted, and I recognized her from Nora’s memories. “Don’t kill her! She won’t hurt us.”

Thea’s tear-stained face told me otherwise. I aimed my rifle at the bear’s head.

“Please!” The little girl stepped forward. “She’s my friend.”

“Then send it away, and let Thea come to me.”

The little girl glanced frantically from me to the bear, like she couldn’t decide. “Nora!” she sniveled. “Nora!”

A cold chill ran down my spine.

“Nora, she’s going to shoot her—”

“What?” a familiar voice spat the word as the cabin door flung open. The face from my dreams appeared in real life, as Nora hobbled out, glaring at the little girl. “What do you want, Aria?” she seethed with impatience.

Aria? She was real.

I barely had time to hate myself for not realizing Aria was real from the start—and clearly part of Nora’s games—before Nora’s frail, desperate voice pierced the air again. “I told you I was busy—” Her hiss faded as she noticed me, and her cold, dead eyes narrowed for a single second, before amusement settled in.

A sneer parted her lips. “I told you it was too late, Sophie. I already have what I want.” Her face was just as disfigured as in my dreams; though she wasn’t as frightening as the monster she’d made herself out to be. She looked sickly and frail; not only had her face been scarred by the crazy woman, but Nora’s leg had been permanently injured as well. She was sickly and feeble, almost pitiable, and her mind was the most broken of all.

“Nora,” Aria’s voice was wiry and torn, like she didn’t know what to do. The bear continued to pace, more protective than threatening, but I would shoot it if I had to. I would shoot Nora too, if I had to, and deal with any remorse later.

“I did what you asked,” Aria croaked. “But, I don’t want—”

“Aria,” Nora cooed so soft it was sickening. “You promised you’d help me. You want a family too—”

“Let my sister go, Aria, and I won’t shoot your bear,” I promised her.

“Aria,” Nora warned. “Don’t listen to her.” Aria looked from Nora to me, tears filling her eyes as she tried to decide what to do.

“But—I don’t want to do this anymore,” she whined, and as Nora registered how truly torn the little girl was, her easy facade began to crack.

“Aria.” The girl’s name was so breathy in the air I barely heard it. “You promised. You said you would help me, that you missed your family too.”

“I do, but—”

“Then Coco stays as she is,” Nora commanded.

“I’m done waiting,” I warned them, aiming my rifle once more. “I’ll shoot the bear—”

“No!” Aria cried, and Nora scrambled for something in the doorway before pulling Thea to her chest.

I took a frantic step forward, forgetting about the bear as I aimed my rifle at Nora, searching for a shot. Nora was crouched behind Thea with a gun in her shaking hand, pressed to the back of Thea’s head. Save for Nora’s fingers clutching Thea’s shoulder, her spindly body was covered, and she lowered her face to Thea’s ear and whispered something.

“You won’t shoot her, Nora.” She wanted a family too badly. I had a sickening suspicion she wanted Phil more though. “Phil will hate you if you hurt Thea,” I promised her. “If I tell him you let her go, he might forgive you.”

Nora’s nostrils flared, and pure amusement lit her face. “You don’t know then,” she said with far too much enjoyment. A grin parted her lips and she rested her chin on Thea’s shoulder, gun still trained at Thea’s head. “I already have Phil.” The blood drained from my limbs, and the knowledge that she loved him and would likely never hurt him was all that prevented me from falling forward. Nora’s grip on Thea’s shoulder tightened, and Thea shrieked with a sob.

“This is your fault, Sophie,” Nora purred. “All. Your. Fault.”

68

Elle

Ross sidled up to the front of the house, Stanley and I following his lead. He sidestepped to the large picture windows, and peeked into the living and dining room. I waited for some indication of what was happening, but his expression gave nothing away. It was Jenny’s voice in my head, it had to be, but why and how, I didn’t understand yet; and we had no idea what was happening, so we needed the element of surprise.

“There’s no one inside,” Ross rushed out, and nodded to the front door. We never used it, but going around back would give us away. His gaze darted between us as he decided our next move. “Go in. Keep quiet, and search the house. I’m going to make my way around back. I’ll use the smokehouse and skinning shed as cover.”

We gave him a quick nod, and with a deeply drawn breath, Ross crouched under the windows and scurried down the front of the house then disappeared around the corner, his rifle trained in front of him.

Unlike Ross, who had military training, Stanley was no soldier. He’d been a normal guy working in a pharmacy before his Ability made him the perfect candidate for the General’s entourage. I wasn’t military either, but the fire inside of me was rampant and ready if I needed to use it.

“We sweep downstairs first,” I told him, meeting Stanley’s round, sepia-toned eyes. I could see my reflection in his black-rimmed glasses as he nodded and pushed them up the bridge of his nose. Nervously, he licked his lips. “Keep your eyes on the second floor.”

Holding his rifle tighter against him, Stanley lowered his chin in understanding, afraid but ready. I offered him the most reassuring nod I could, and lifted my pistol as I reached for the handle.

Drawing in a deep breath, I slowly pressed the latch and eased the front door open. The interior was quiet as we stepped inside, sweeping the immediate area and finding no signs of a disturbance in the dining room. We moved to the kitchen, before creeping toward the walk-in pantry and den, all of which were vacant.

As I stepped into the living room, I froze beside the sectional, staring through the screen door as Ross ascended the deck steps. He aimed his gun on the crumpled body in front of him.

“Jenny,” I breathed, and rushed to the doorway.

Ross shifted his rifle from one hand to the other as he crouched down beside my sister’s body. Her long, dark hair was splayed out around her slackened face, and her narrow lips were slightly opened, as if she’d been trying to speak before she collapsed.

Ross leaned over her, checking for a pulse. “She’s alive,” he said, glancing up at me, but the remorse in his eyes told me it wasn’t good.

“Jenny . . .” My heart hammered so hard and fast, I wasn’t sure how long I stood beside them, staring down in terrified confusion. Was she calling for me because this was the end—because she knew she was dying? My heart began to break all over again, and my insides twisted. “Thea,” I remembered, frantically glancing around. “Where are Thea and Sophie?”

With a gasp, Jenny’s dark lashes fluttered open, and her green-and-gray irises, unfocused as she blinked herself awake, settled on me.

I dropped to my knees beside her. “Jenny—”

“The . . . woods.” She breathed the words so weakly, I hardly heard her against the whir of fury rushing through me. “Save . . . them . . .”

Jenny’s gaze shifted in the direction of the bridge, and every fiery fiber inside me flared hotter. They’re in trouble.

As Sophie and Thea’s faces flashed in my mind, whatever fear I had disintegrated to ash and the fire inside me burst to life again. I jumped to my feet, my gun crashing to the floorboards. Fear and dread were dwarfed by a solidified determination and ferocity to find them.

Gripping his rifle in one hand, Ross hurried back down the steps, toward the woods.

“Go,” Stanley said behind me. “I’ll stay with Jenny.”

But his words were only a remote hum in the back of my mind, a reassurance I couldn’t quite process as my mind blazed with the sole intent to incinerate anyone who dared to harm my family.

As I ran toward the bridge, all I could think was this place was our home, and the kids were my family, and I would make it right.

With each determined step, I let the inferno inside me burn hotter and hotter as my body heat roared to a blaze. Flames tickled the surface of my skin, and every apprehensive thought I had melted away, replaced with sheer resolve.

I would burn anything and everyone to the ground, if I had to.

69

Sophie

“If you have Phil, leave Thea alone, Nora, or I’ll shoot you—I swear to God I will.”

“And risk hitting her?” she said with far too much confidence. I gritted my teeth together. “You and I both know how weak you are, Sophie. All of your training didn’t prepare you for this, did it? You were so worried about those horrible men, and what they’d do to you if they found you again, that you forgot to practice your aim. How long has it been since you practiced, six months? Longer?”

I hated Nora’s voice. I hated her horrid face and everything about her, and I wanted her dead more than anything in the world. She didn’t know me like she thought she did. I was a good aim, and I didn’t have to shoot her in the head to get her away from Thea. I wasn’t going to wait around for Nora to snap either.

“Have it your way,” I muttered and aimed my rifle at Thea’s shoulder. It would go through and if I was lucky, hit Nora in the heart, injuring her regardless.

The leaves and branches around me began to rustle and a low pulsating churr came up behind me. I could feel the heat before I turned to see Elle coming out of the trees. She scorched the earth with every footstep, and the pine needles and branches around her withered and burned. Her face was distorted in waves of heat, and flames crackled from her hardly visible skin.

I heard a collective gasp behind me, and the bear barked in fear, and darted for the woods. Relief flooded me as I stumbled back from the flames, nearly dropping my gun.

I thought fireballs would shoot from Elle’s eyes as she surveyed the scene, but the flames tapered down as she registered Nora, Thea, and Aria in shock against the cabin. I don’t know what Elle expected to see, but I doubted it was three terrified girls.

Ross came through the trees behind her, keeping his distance.

“It’s Nora,” I told them, pointing at the psycho still grabbing hold of my sister. Elle’s eyes narrowed on Nora, and Ross looked horrified. I wasn’t sure how they’d known to come, but I guessed he hadn’t expected to find a feeble young woman at the helm of it. “Shoot her, Ross,” I ground out, but I wasn’t sure he could hear me over the whir of Elle’s low-lit flames. “Shoot her!” I said more loudly, and glanced back at Nora.

With a quivering chin, Nora looked frantically between Elle and me, shaking her head.

“She has Phil!” I shouted. “She threatened to kill Thea—Shoot her!”

Elle stepped forward on instinct, and as the flames surrounding her roared back to life, I fell into the trees, dropping my gun in the suffocating wave of heat, and scrambled back.

“No!” Nora cried, tears filling her eyes. “She’s Aria’s friend, I wouldn’t hurt her. I just—don’t I deserve a second chance too?” Tears streaked down her scarred cheek as she clutched onto Thea’s shirt like Thea was all that was holding her up anymore. “It’s her fault!” Nora pointed at me, and fell to her knees, pulling Thea down with her.

Thea whimpered and shut her eyes as she fell backward, a ragdoll in Nora’s grip.

With creaks and groans, the cabin began to shake, like it was uprooting from its foundation. Go Thea! I silently urged. I wanted her to send the cabin crashing down on Nora so she’d be gone for good, but Thea was too scared. The more she cried the less the foundation shook, but Nora didn’t realize that. She let go of Thea and scrambled away from the cabin, and I knew it was our last chance. “Shoot her, Ross! Shoot Nora!”

He lifted his rifle and hesitated. Pain filled his eyes, and I saw the dread in what he was about to do. But as Nora scrambled for the gun, he aimed his rifle at her head.

Nora stopped mid-motion, as if she was suspended in time, her fingers just barely brushing the pistol before her head snapped unnaturally far to the right, bug-eyed and her mouth agape. Then her body collapsed to the ground.

For a moment, I stared at Nora’s lifeless body, gripping the earth between my fingers as the cabin settled back into place with a groan. Thea ran over, crying as I wrapped my arms around her with a sob of relief.

Glancing behind me, Elle was no longer burning with flames, and her clothes were singed to her body. She stared at JJ, who was hobbling over. JJ clung to Stanley, one arm around his neck and the other still outstretched, like she’d just broken Nora’s neck with the flick of her wrist. Then her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

“Jenny!” Elle shouted, running to her sister’s side, but it was too late. JJ collapsed into Stanley as she lost consciousness, and it was all he could do to catch her as they both fell to the ground. “Jenny . . .” Elle called again, and fell to her knees beside her.

Pulling Thea up into my arms, I limped over to them on bruised and cut bare feet.

“She’s alive, but her pulse is still weak,” Stanley said, shaking his head. His eyes met Elle’s with worry. “I told her she should stay back—I told her it was too much, but she wouldn’t listen.”

Ross crouched down next to Elle as tears trickled down Elle’s ash-smeared cheeks. “We have to get her back to the house.”

“Here,” Ross said, handing Elle his gun. “I’ll carry her back.”

“Wait!” I spun around, remembering Phil. Setting Thea to her feet, I ran toward the cabin, past Nora’s body, and Aria, crouched down and crying beside her.

The cabin was lived in, not like when I’d seen it before. The bed was covered in blankets, and candles and lanterns were strewn around the space. I even saw one of our packs we’d unloaded at the gym, and it all started to come together—Nora attacked at the gym, the dead woman’s body that Alex and I had found, the little footprints, and the storage shed that had been ransacked.

For months, Nora had been inching closer to us, and for months she’d been feeding off of me. I didn’t care how or why anymore, only that I had to find Phil.

“He’s not here,” I rasped. Turning on my heels, I marched to the door, ignoring the lacerations on the bottoms of my feet. “Where is he?” I demanded, glaring at Aria.

She shook her head, sniffing as she wiped the snot from her nose. “I don’t—know,” she hiccupped.

I stared at Elle, as Ross made his way back through the trees with JJ’s body. Stanley followed behind him with my gun.

“We have to find Phil, Elle. Nora has him somewhere—she’s done something to him—”

“We’ll find him,” she promised, her brow hard-set with worry. Thea clutched Elle’s hand with a whimper. “I promise. For all we know, he’s still in his cabin.”

“Of course,” I breathed, so relieved I might’ve squealed it. I’d forgotten he had an early morning shift at the fish wheel.

“But—what about Aria?” Thea squeaked, her little chin trembling. “She can’t stay here alone.”

I stared down at the little girl, her hair matted to her damp face, her cheek resting on her knee as she picked at Nora’s threadbare shirt. As much as I wanted to hate the little girl for putting Thea in danger, she also refused to hurt her when Nora had asked her to.

“Come on.” I offered my hand out to her. I needed to know more about Aria, and glean what she knew about Phil, before we could trust her.

Aria looked up at me with watery, coffee-colored eyes, scared and uncertain.

“Come on, Aria,” Thea called. “We’ll take care of you.”

Wiping her nose again, Aria climbed shakily to her feet. The tip of her shoe had a hole in the toe, and my heart broke a little for her as I realized how wretched she was.

“Take my hand,” I told her more gently this time, and I wiggled my fingers.

Slowly, Aria slid her little hand in mine, her eyes watery and wary. The moment I touched her skin, I saw her past unfold, and felt the false hope she’d found in Nora.

I saw her all alone in an apartment building, hungry and afraid. I saw the bear attacking Rocky at Nora’s request because he couldn’t be controlled by Aria’s mind like the others could. I saw charitable moments between Aria and Nora, and how much they loved each other before Nora lost herself in a dark hole of delusion.

And I saw Aria watching all of us longingly through the bushes, where she was told she could never leave. I felt her hope to one day have a family again, just like Thea, and her fear that she would be alone again.

“I’m s—sorry,” she stuttered through a sob, and I knew Aria didn’t know where Phil was.

My heart lodged in my throat. “I know,” I said, swallowing my fear and sadness. “Let’s go home.”

70

Sophie

My feet wouldn’t move fast enough as I hurried ahead of Ross and everyone toward the cabins. I grasped onto the hope that Phil was in his room, that he wasn’t gone or injured . . . or worse.

“Phil,” I called running past JJ’s cabin door to his. I knocked, but was too impatient to wait for an answer that might never come. “Phil!” I called more desperately, and I reached for the handle.

The door opened before I could turn the knob, and he was standing there in his pajama pants, without a shirt, scrubbing the back of his head. “Sophie?” He shook his head with a yawn, his hair mussed and his eyes bleary with sleep. Frozen in disbelief, I stared at him, unsure he was real. “I was having the trippiest dream,” he murmured through another yawn. “Then, it just . . . stopped. You were there, and—”

I gasped. “Oh, thank God.” I wrapped my arms around him with a choked sob. “I thought she’d gotten you.” I inhaled his skin and reveled in the solidity of him against me. His heart was still pounding, and his mind was foggy. I could see me in his dreams, I could see us together, and I saw Phil happy—I could feel his happiness—and it shredded me inside. “Phil, it wasn’t me. All of these head games—it’s been Nora the whole time. She’s been pushing us together.” But even as I said the words, I knew that wasn’t true. Not for him. It was part of the reason she chose me, why I was an easier target than the rest. “She wanted us to be together because she’s sick and—”

“She’s dead now, isn’t she?” Phil’s gazed narrowed on me. “I could feel it, the way everything in my dreams changed. I’d wanted to stay in there forever, until I didn’t.”

“It wouldn’t have been real,” I told him, wiping my eyes. I needed him to know that the confusion, the feelings, weren’t real. At least, most of them weren’t.

Phil’s expression was pained and a little off-kilter, but he nodded. “Yeah, I know, Soph.” As his eyes shifted over me, and he took in my dirty pajamas, he straightened. “Are you okay?” He frowned and bent down to look at my feet. “What the hell happened?”

Elle’s pleas in the adjacent cabin filled the air, and the scraping and rustling of furniture, were like a lead blanket of reality settling over me. Phil was only a blurry outline as I shook my head. “I thought you were dead,” I choked out. “And JJ—I don’t know if she’s going to make it.”

Phil pulled me into his arms, and as the memory of Nora’s face filled my mind, my complete carelessness and utter stupidity consumed me. “I should’ve known,” I cried into his chest. The adrenaline dispelled, and my mind and muscles grew heavy with fatigue. “I should’ve known.”

“Sophie, this is not your fault.”

I nodded against his chest, relieved Phil was alive, but I feared JJ would be the one to pay for my weakness and stupidity. I wished for a do-over, and more than anything, I wished Alex were home.

71

Elle

I sat at Jenny’s bedside as night descended, knowing in my gut that if she didn’t wake up soon, she probably never would. Her telepathy and telekinesis still confused me, then again everything about her was a patchwork of vague uncertainties, and what mattered was that whatever power she’d used had almost killed her.

I could smell the smoke clinging to every part of me as I ran my fingers through my hair. Other than splashing water on my face and throwing on some clean clothes, I didn’t have it in me to shower. I was too afraid to leave my sister alone. I was too afraid she’d leave me.

Despite the hazy afternoon, her room was dark, with only the light of the bathroom to fill the cabin while she slept. The room was stark and impersonal, like a hotel room Jenny and Kat hadn’t bothered to make theirs, and I wondered if it was because Jenny hadn’t known how much longer she had left.

My heart squeezed in my chest as I stared at the empty space beside her, wondering whether or not Kat would get to see Jenny again. For Kat’s sake, I hoped so.

Jenny’s breath caught in her throat, and I reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly. “Jenny,” I whispered, hopeful. “Can you hear me?”

Chairs scratched on the porch outside the door, and there was a cacophony of footsteps as the others filed inside.

Jenny cleared her throat, and I bit my lip, waiting with bated breath as her eyes flitted open.

“Hey,” I whispered. I could feel the others’ presence behind me, and as Jenny’s eyes fell on me, they focused, and then her gaze slid over the rest of them. I glanced over my shoulder, at four sets of pensive stares in our direction.

Ross cleared his throat. “Come on,” he whispered, nudging Stanley and Phil. “Let’s give them some space. We need to check on Thea and Aria anyway.”

I reached for Sophie’s hand and drew her closer.

We were both a quivering mess, and Jenny smiled at us, if a little weakly. She patted the bed by her legs for Sophie to sit.

“We didn’t know if you’d wake up,” I told her, trying not to lose what little steel I had left.

Jenny squeezed my hand. “I did not know if I would either,” she admitted.

“How did you do that?” Sophie breathed, still in awe like the rest of us. “How could you tell Elle and do what you did—”

“I can do many things,” she explained. “I do not know why, only that I have been able to hide without being found before. I knew I should find you, that you needed me, even if I couldn’t explain how. But . . .”

“It weakens you,” I realized. She’d gone from being relatively fine, to using her Ability twice in one day, and I saw the results in the waxen color of her skin, and heard it in the reediness of her voice.

I pulled her hand up to my face, pressing my cheek to it. I needed to feel her warmth, to know she wasn’t leaving me already. “You risked your life for us,” I said through the break of tears. “For me.” I couldn’t hold them back anymore.

“I would do anything for you, Elle. I would do anything for your family.” Covering my face with my hand, I cried. “You can’t leave me,” I told her, but it was a miserable plea. “You can’t, not again. I need you.”

“I am not leaving you,” she promised, brushing my cheek with her finger. “Not yet.” Her pale lips pulled into a reassuring smile, and even though I knew it was only a matter of time, that time wasn’t now.

“I remembered something,” Jenny said, her eyes brightening a little. “While I was sleeping, I had a dream. It was of a song. A special song our mother used to sing to us a long time ago.” I searched as far back as I could, trying to think of the sound of my mother’s voice, let alone the song she might’ve sung.

Jenny began to hum. It sounded like a nursery rhyme, only vaguely familiar at first, and then the words popped into my head. “The sound of silence will set you free,” I breathed. Jenny’s eyes met mine as she continued to hum. “In the silence there I’ll be. So no more crying now, shed your fears. You’re never alone, because you’ll always have me.”

Chills trickled over my skin as Jenny’s riddle came to light. “A lullaby?” I remembered it from a distant memory—lying in bed with my mother and sister, in a room shrouded in darkness. The darkness was almost soothing as my mother sang, her words lulling me to sleep. “You remembered.” I smiled at her, somehow proud that she could find a sliver of something good from our childhood, and that she could share it with me after all these years. “I always wondered what the words meant, and why they were so important to you.” A strange calm washed over me, and I closed my eyes as the sound of my sister’s hum lulled me into a welcomed respite. Seconds felt like minutes as her throaty song settle in around my heart.

An engine rumbled outside, and my eyes popped open.

Sophie jumped to her feet, cringing a little as she wiped the tears from her eyes. “Who’s—”

“Yay! Del and Jade are here!” Thea chirped outside the open door, and my heart soared.

“The Ranksins!” Sophie practically exploded out of the room, and I looked at Jenny. “You said they would come.” I’d forgotten about that.

She smiled. “I am glad they made it. I was hoping I would get the chance to meet them.” She nudged my hand. “Go, I will be okay. Say hello to your friends.”

Torn, I looked at Jenny, worried that if I turned away for a single minute she would leave me without saying goodbye.

“I will be here when you get back.” Her words were as much a promise as they were a plea, I believed her, and reluctantly I headed for the door. I wasn’t sure how fast I was moving, but it seemed like only milliseconds before I wasn’t walking toward Jade, I was running.

When her smoky quartz-colored eyes met mine, brimming with sorrow in the dying sunlight, I fell into a sobbing heap in her arms.

“Oh, my dear,” she whispered, petting my hair down my back. “All will be well.”

Shaking my head, I began to break.

72

Sophie

As the hours went on and the sun lowered behind the mountain tops, JJ began to wince more and more. She struggled to breathe, and we all knew it wouldn’t be long. Ross paced outside the door. Elle only left JJ’s side when she had to, and even Jade did all she could to keep JJ comfortable.

“Here,” Jade said, handing Elle a cup of herbal tea. We didn’t ask what it was, because we knew it was for the pain. “It’s only lukewarm, so she can drink.” Jade met JJ’s unfocused gaze. “It will help a little.”

JJ gave her best effort to smile, but her lips cracked, and even lifting her head to sip from the mug made each breath more of a chore. Any movement seemed to result in a coughing fit, and it was only a matter of time before JJ’s body shut down completely.

The minutes passed, me leaning against the wall in JJ’s bedroom, wishing Ross could’ve gotten hold of Jackson. Even if Jade and Del were here, Elle wasn’t going to be able to hold it together for much longer. She needed Jackson, and Kat, I feared, would miss the chance to say goodbye to JJ.

“Elle,” Ross said gently from the doorway. “I got through to Jackson.” Elle looked back at him, and he held up the radio. “They’ve already left Prince Rupert.” He nodded for her to step outside with him. “He wants to talk to you.”

Elle wiped the moisture from her eyes to no avail and licked her lips. “I’ll be right back,” she whispered, and squeezed JJ’s hand for good measure. “I promise.”

Eyes and nose swollen from tears, Elle nearly stumbled as she stood. Jade held Elle by the arm and helped her to the door.

“Sophie.” JJ’s voice cracked, and I hurried over to her. She glanced at Elle’s chair, and I thought she might’ve wanted me to sit, so I did. “You are very strong,” she whispered. “But after today, you already know that.” The corner of her lip tugged ever so slightly, and she took a shallow breath. “You will be much stronger still.”

My nostrils flared as I realized it was a goodbye.

“You must remember this, even when you doubt yourself. Just as my sister must.” I did feel stronger; JJ was right. After using my mind as a defense against Nora, I felt a confidence I’d never felt. “You are determined, never change that.”

I nodded, willing to do anything for JJ because she’d done so much for us. The Ranskins. Nora. What she did for Elle by coming to find her, even if it was only to leave her again. “Okay,” I promised.

“And,” she said, tears glistening in her eyes. “Will you tell Kat I love her, please? I could not have found my sister without her.”

I had to open my mouth to breathe, and the tears were too thick in my eyes to see JJ anymore. “I will.” Kat would never forgive herself for not finding a cure in time, or for not being there during JJ’s last breaths.

“It was always meant to be this way. There was nothing Kat could have done.” She struggled to swallow. “She will not believe you, but tell her anyway, will you?” JJ rested her hand on mine, and cleared her throat. “Please,” she said, her eyes flitting closed. “Get Elle. And Ross.”

Biting the inside of my cheek, I rose to my feet. JJ had been a miracle Elle had never expected. Now she would be Elle’s greatest heartbreak, and I wasn’t sure I could bear it.

73

Elle

“No,” I whimpered the moment Sophie stepped outside with tears filling her eyes. I shoved the radio into Ross’s hand and ran for Jenny’s room. She was lying still, unmoving.

“Jenny—” Her eyes peeled open. “Oh, thank God—” I nearly fell into the chair beside her bed.

“Elle,” she rasped, and opened her palm resting on the blanket beside her. Gladly, I took her hand, feeling the warmth in it fading. Gritting my teeth together, I brushed the dark hair from her brow and smiled at her.

“Look after Kat for me,” she whispered.

“Of course,” I said as my face crumpled. I was an ugly crier; I always had been, and I knew this—the saddest moment of my life—would be no exception. I just didn’t want it to be the final thing Jenny saw, and I tried to control myself as best I could.

“I’m glad you came,” I told her. “I wish we had more time—” I could barely speak the words. “But I’m so glad you did.”

Jenny’s eyes flitted shut as she attempted another smile. “Good.” There was an ease in her voice, raspy as it was, and a contentment that made me feel the smallest bit lighter.

“Elle . . .” Thea squeaked from the doorway where Ross and Phil stood.

“Come here, squiggles,” I told her, wiping my nose. “It’s okay.”

Thea shuffled over, her chin down and her eyes skirting from Jenny to me before she climbed up into my lap.

“You will take care of Elle for me,” Jenny rasped, trying to smile. “Won’t you?”

Thea worried her bottom lip, then nodded.

“Good. That—” She cleared her throat. “That makes me happy.”

Thea crawled onto the bed and wrapped her arms around Jenny. “Thank you for saving me,” she said through tears, and I hated to count how many deaths Thea had seen by the age of eight. How much had Jenny seen but couldn’t remember? Which memories would have come back to her if we had more time together—what new, better memories would we share if we had the chance?

When the tears escaped from Jenny’s eyes, I thought it must be harder for her to leave than she let on, that she might wait for Kat, for a possible cure, and she’d decide to stay. “If you hold on just a little bit longer, Kat might—”

Jenny shook her head. “No.” She winced. “Please.” I wasn’t sure if it was the pain or the thought of having to say another goodbye that made her chin tremble.

I wanted to plead with her to change her mind, but I didn’t want Jenny to suffer any longer either. “You’ve already given me so much . . .” It was a reminder to myself. There was nothing else I could ask of her.

I heard Ross’s heavy, tentative footsteps behind me. When Jenny met his gaze with a reluctant nod, I was confused. I looked back at him, when I saw the regret in his eyes, I realized he’d come for her. Like death himself, Ross was going to take away her pain, and let her fall asleep, forever. Tears fell like liquid ribbons from my eyes and I shook my head, squeezing her hand tighter so she wouldn’t let go. “No.” I wept the word over and over, as Ross sat down on the mattress beside her.

His eyes were shimmering with an internal storm, and his jaw was so tight I thought it might snap.

When she was finally ready, Jenny closed her eyes and inhaled, like she was prepared for the end I never wanted to come, she squeezed my hand and lifted the other to Ross.

“No,” I choked out. “Jenny . . .” It wasn’t even a word, but a cry.

Ross’s body trembled as he lowered his head. His brow furrowed, and Sophie reached for his shoulder, as if she too were bound to bear the gut-wrenching impossible with Ross, as Jenny left this world.

With a stifled cry, Sophie rested her hand on my shoulder, and I felt the weight of Jenny’s burden—the pain she felt and the darkness that lingered—begin to dissolve. I felt her relief and peace, as well as her sorrow, and I hugged Thea tighter against me.

Opening my eyes, I watched as my sister opened her mouth and inhaled a final breath, before her eyes closed again, for the last time.

74

Alex

The evening sun was blotted out by the cloudy sky when the bus finally rolled up the driveway. We knew JJ was hurt, but we didn’t know to what extent. Ross wouldn’t tell us much over the radio, only that we needed to hurry. Along with my dread, I felt surprise when I spotted the Ranskins’s truck in the driveway, and I was filled with a sudden rush of relief.

Everyone milled around outside JJ and Kat’s cabin with crestfallen faces. As relieved as all of us had been to hear Elle’s watery voice over the radio, silently, we’d all prepared for the worst.

“Open the door,” Kat demanded before the bus came to a complete stop. Woody did as she requested, and Kat and Jackson lunged out the door and ran toward the cabins. I rushed out behind them. The hours of driving, only stopping to pee when absolutely necessary, wound us up so tight, I thought the whole bus might combust.

Kat pushed past Phil, Thea, and a little girl sitting on the porch who I’d never seen before. Past Stanley, and Jade, and Del, as if she didn’t even see them, until she was inside.

“JJ!” Kat let out a warbling cry from inside, and Jackson’s footsteps faltered. As he stepped into the doorway, his face paled.

I stepped in behind him, and I could feel it—death. It permeated the air and was written all over Ross and Sophie’s faces as they leaned against the wall. Both of them looked like they hadn’t slept in weeks, their faces ashen and their eyes red-rimmed.

Elle was sitting in a chair by JJ’s bedside, the outline of her sister unmoving.

“JJ!” Kat cried, crawling up onto the bed with her. She sobbed JJ’s name over and over, pulling JJ’s limp hand to her lips, begging her to wake up, but JJ had been gone too long for that.

Elle’s shoulders heaved, but she didn’t turn around. She didn’t move.

I stood dumbly for a moment, staring at Sophie. She was alive and breathing, none of the things my mind had conjured in the hours before we’d finally heard from Ross. “I saw a woman. She had a scarred face. I saw flames everywhere.” I wanted Sophie to know that I’d come back for her. That I was an idiot and wanted to put the past year behind us, but she barely registered I was standing there, if at all.

As Kat wept, Jackson stepped up to Elle, slowly reaching for her shoulder, like he was worried he’d startle her. “Elle?” he whispered.

I felt everything inside of me hollow, like I was gutted from the inside out, watching the macabre scene in front of me unfold. Slowly, Elle peered up at him; her eyes were lifeless puddles that shimmered in the dim lighting. “It happened so fast,” she breathed and Jackson helped her to her feet. “He only did what she wanted him to.” Her voice was so quiet, it was difficult to hear above Kat’s sobs.

Jackson pulled Elle into his arms, as Kat flung herself off the bed. “What?” she shrieked, hurling herself toward Ross. She slapped him before he knew what was happening. “You took her!” She slammed her fists against his chest. “You son of a bitch, you took her from me! You could’ve waited. I know how to save her—you could’ve waited!”

The room was frozen in horror as Kat pounded and pounded, and Ross took every ounce of it as he stumbled back. His eyes closed and his chin quivered.

“You should’ve waited,” she choked out, then fell into him—a sobbing, trembling jumble, as he wrapped his arms around her. “Why didn’t you wait . . .” The anguish in her voice made my eyes cloud with tears.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, clearing his throat. Her body quaked in his arms, as he whispered it over and over.

Sophie wiped the tears from her eyes, and like a zombie with little life left in her, she walked past Ross and Kat, and past Jackson embracing Elle for the door. I hesitated beside Elle, knowing there was nothing I could do or say to help, but wanting her to know I was there all the same. Resting my hand on Elle’s heaving shoulder, I squeezed with all the love and reassurance I could. Then, I left her to grieve in Jackson’s arms and walked out into the daylight. Kat didn’t get her chance to make her peace with JJ, but I would have mine with Sophie.

I glanced toward the house but I didn’t see her.

“Alex.” I looked at Phil sitting with Stanley on the porch steps. He nodded toward the pasture.

Sophie walked toward the barn, almost stumbling as her footsteps quickened, like she wished she could fly away.

“Sophie,” I called, and ran after her. “Soph!” Only when I finally caught up, did she bother to stop. “Sophie,” I breathed, grabbing onto her shoulders.

Slowly, her eyes drifted to mine, and just as slowly, her eyes filled with tears and her face crumpled.

Without hesitation, I pulled her into my arms. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered in her ear. “I should’ve been here. I shouldn’t have left.” I shouldn’t have doubted her or judged her. More than anything, I shouldn’t have pushed her away.

Everything poured out of her, the earth-shattering sorrow, the smooth, empty darkness of death, the unbridled fear of the days past—Nora, Phil, JJ, the dreams—all of it washed through me, and I squeezed her tighter. I felt it, all of it, because it wasn’t only Sophie’s to bear, not anymore.

75

Sophie

Fourteen of us stood in a circle around Jenny’s grave as the sun glowed on the horizon. We were at the edge of the property where the fish wheel turned, tucked into the trees, by Rocky’s grave. “Now you’ll see them both all the time in summer, so they can never be forgotten.” Jade’s words put my heart at ease, as it did with Beau and Thea. And the clouds that had been present all day glowed with pink and yellow light, like today was always going to be the day, because today was meant to be. Ross, the Ranskins, JJ—they’d all come into our lives for this very moment, and as hard as it was to simply breathe, we were all here together.

How long had it been since I could appreciate a sunset without my thoughts wandering to my next sparring match with Phil? How long had it been since I could be in the moment, knowing I wasn’t going crazy? Or that I didn’t have to worry about my dreams, or question who I was or how I felt anymore, because Nora was gone? Thanks to JJ.

I squeezed Beau’s hand, then Alex’s, reassuring myself that they were there, and this was all real—the empty feeling, the gratitude, the relief that everyone was home, and that we were mostly all together.

I could almost feel the relief and regretful longing pouring from Alex, tingling my senses, but I was so full of emotion and what Ross had experienced, I felt too much to tell what was what anymore.

Elle hummed her childhood lullaby in the silence, then sang the words so softly I could barely hear them. No one uttered a word, it was too hard, but we all stood in silence, we all mourned together. Hand in hand. Ragged breath for ragged breath.

When Elle was ready, she stepped over to the grave and placed a photograph of her and JJ as children on the mound of rocks, setting a small river stone on it to weight it down. Tears fell from Elle’s eyes, but she didn’t sob, for Kat’s sake, I think. She kissed her fingertips and pressed them against JJ’s headstone—on her name etched in a chunk of granite—and when she was finished, Elle turned to look at Kat, my gaze following.

Kat held Del and Woody’s hands as the tears streamed down her face.

“I want you to have this,” Elle said as she drew closer. She handed Kat a photo.

Kat’s nostril’s flared and her lips pressed together and she hung her head. “Thank you,” she croaked, and without hesitation, Kat wrapped her arms around Elle.

They embraced for a few moments, and Elle cleared her throat. “We’ll leave you alone with her,” she whispered quietly, squeezing her eyes shut with a final tight hug. And when Elle pulled away, she nodded for all of us to follow her.

Jade and Del headed toward the house, hand-in-hand; Jade’s warm, sympathetic smile flashing at me as she passed. I was sad that Took hadn’t come with them, but since they’d left in a hurry, someone had to stay at their homestead. Woody walked with Thea; and Beau, Bert, and Stanley followed behind them, making their way toward the house with somber footsteps.

Alex’s hand squeezed mine when I didn’t move. “You staying out here?” he asked softly.

I stared at JJ’s grave. “For a minute.” I tried to smile, but my cheek only twitched. Where it’s quiet.

“Do you want me to stay with you?”

Finally, I looked at him. He bit the side of his cheek, and every fleck of color in his eyes shined with hope and sadness as they searched my face. His eyes had been my compass for so long—so full of heart and love and kindness—that inexplicable warmth glowed around my heart again, now that he’d returned. “I’ll be all right,” I promised him, and squeezed his hand again before I could bring myself to let go.

Alex hesitated, but finally, he nodded and turned for the house, following behind Elle and Jackson.

Alex was home, and he was different now, open and attentive and not pushing me away, and the relief of that brought tears to my eyes again.

I glanced at Ross and Kat as they lingered at JJ’s grave in silence. After a few heartbeats, Ross turned to leave, and Kat reached for his arm. “Ross—”

He stopped mid-step. The circles under his eyes were darker than before, and I was surprised he was still standing after the toll this afternoon had taken on him.

Kat’s chest rose and she clenched her jaw before she could bring herself to continue. “Thank you,” she whispered.

The crease in Ross’s brow unfurrowed as he studied Kat’s face. His body visibly relaxed, and he nodded, though he hesitated.

Kat stared down at her hand on his arm, and after a moment’s pause, she let go. “Now, get out of here,” she said more forcefully, “before I think of something bratty to say.”

With a tight-lipped smile, Ross continued toward the house, not risking a look back.

“You okay?” Phil walked up behind me. The turmoil of the day shadowed his face.

“I’ll get there,” I told him. I’d been so scared Nora had hurt him because of me. I tried not to consider what could’ve happened to him. “I’m glad you’re all right, Phil.” I lifted on my tiptoes, feeling the ache in the bottoms of my feet, but it was worth it to know he was okay, and I wrapped my arms around him.

Phil squeezed me back, a tight bear hug that eased the tension from my body. He’s still here, still Phil. The turmoil my Ability had brought me the past two years had been worth it, if only to give me enough strength to fight back and shake Nora’s power over me. “Thanks for coming to save me, Sophie.” Phil kissed me on the cheek and when he pulled away, he winked at me. “Can’t make it too easy for him.” He nodded toward the house.

When I looked, Alex was watching us from the deck.

“Just keeping you two on your toes,” he said wryly. I rolled my eyes, allowing a small smile, and Phil and I turned for the house.

As I made my way through the property, I peered around for Aria. She had a mess of mourning and confusion of her own to process and the poor thing probably felt alone and would need us now more than ever.

I saw her standing by the horse pasture, her hand outstretched to Big Red as he lipped at her fingers. For a moment, she looked like a little girl without a care in the world, smiling at the pony as she patted his head. I wasn’t sure how Beau would feel, having a new animal telepath in the family, but Thea would set him straight, I had no doubt about that.

I was about to head for the pasture, forgoing the buzz of people in the house, when Stanley descended the deck steps with carrots dangling from his hands. He wasn’t one to approach a stranger, let alone a child, but with each hesitant step, he seemed more determined.

Leaving the two of them to talk, I headed up the steps. I stopped beside Elle and Woody at the rail, watching Stanley. “Is this a good idea? He doesn’t do well with unpredictability.” It was only a half joke.

“Now, just wait a second,” Woody said. “You’re not giving Stanley enough credit. He’s got a heart of gold, and after what Phil was saying happened with the girl, it sounds like they might have a lot in common. He knows what it’s like to be brainwashed by someone, so who knows, they might be a good match.”

“You make it sound like this is an interview,” I told him. “Should we roll out the adoption papers and—”

“She’s not a commodity, Sophie. Geez.” Woody rolled his eyes, and I had to stifle a laugh. “But, if the girl takes a shine to Stanley, then we’ll see what happens.”

Awe. Shock. Surprise. None of them really covered the jaw-dropping amusement I felt in hearing Woody say such a thing. An iota of paternal instinct was the last thing I’d ever expected from Woody.

“You do realize,” Elle said wryly, “you have to water a child, and feed it, right? It’s more work than a garden.”

A smile parted her lips as Woody scratched his chin, making a show of reconsidering it. “Well, when you put it that way . . . I guess it’s a good thing I’ll have Stanley—make sure it gets enough sunlight and all that.”

“She,” I corrected. “Her name is Aria. Not it.”

Woody winked at me, and for a second, I saw Woody as more than the crazy uncle. After all, he deserved a second chance like the rest of us.

76

Alex

Well after midnight, I dragged myself upstairs to bed. Sophie had been in emotion-overload since I got home, and I didn’t want to crowd her, even if it took everything in me not to cling to her.

Woody, Ross, Stanley, Bert, and Phil were long gone; Kat was asleep on the couch; Jackson and Elle were collecting the two sleeping girls to take up to Thea’s bedroom; and Jade and Del had retired to bed once the horizon finally darkened.

The past twenty-four hours of chaos made my mind a bubble gum machine, jumbled and overflowing. I wasn’t sure how I felt about the past week, what happened here and at the summit. I regretted leaving home, as much as I was glad I’d gone, and I felt a mixture of guilt and gratitude.

People knew about Whitehorse now, which was the purpose for going to begin with. And Elle had been right; I’d found what I’d been looking for, even if I wasn’t even aware I’d been searching for it. I thought about Iris. She’d already lost one set of parents; it seemed cruel that she should lose Alan too. I’d saved him, and for the first time in my life, I felt pride in something.

When I reached my bedroom, I stopped in the doorway, unable to resist a look at Sophie’s. Her door was closed, but the light was on. I could’ve given her more space, and I considered it, but my need for her to know I would do anything and everything for her was stronger.

Blowing out a deep breath, I walked to her bedroom door. Even if I woke her, this needed to be done for both of us; Sophie deserved to know how I felt because she’d been honest with me since day one, even if I didn’t always like what I saw or felt in her honesty. There would be no more hiding after this, no more walls. She would have all of me; I just hoped I was still what she wanted.

“Hey, Soph,” I whispered, tapping lightly on her door.

I held my breath, listening for movement. “Come in,” she said softly.

My heart was suddenly racing as I cracked the door open. This was it, and whatever the outcome, there was no going back. I poked my head inside and saw her leaning against the window frame with her arms wrapped around herself.

She stared out into the indigo glow of night. “Can’t sleep?” I stepped inside.

Her hair was down and hung over her shoulders, lifting as she shrugged. “I haven’t tried.” Her voice was distant, like she was lost in a thought, and she didn’t even glance in my direction.

“Are you worried about your dreams still?”

“A part of me is, like she’s somehow still in there, but I also think I’m just too exhausted to sleep.” Finally, she looked at me. “If that makes sense?”

“Yeah, actually, it does. My eyes burn too bad to even close them.”

With a weak smile, she peered back out the window, down at the pasture or out at the tree line. She might not have been looking at anything at all, but Sophie was being distant, and as much as it was killing me, I knew I deserved it. I’d pushed her away for so long, and I wasn’t here when she’d needed me the most.

“I’m sorry,” I told her, stepping around her bed. “I know you’re probably tired of me and my bullshit—or us—but I need you to know something.” Her blue eyes widened slightly. They were the color of a frozen lake in winter, and I quickly closed the distance between us. “Can I see your hand, please?”

Her delicate eyebrows pulled together in uncertainty, but she offered me her hand. Immediately, I felt the spark of her skin against mine, and I realized how much I’d missed it. I hadn’t allowed myself to embrace it before, I’d been too scared, but there was something exhilarating in knowing I was drawn to someone so intensely, and that I could feel something so unbreakable.

Her hand was warm and slender in mine, and lifting her palm, I rested it against my chest and closed my eyes. “Can you feel this?” My heartbeat was erratic. My blood was whirring through my veins. My body was alive and felt on fire, and it was all because of her. The Sophie I met two years ago. The Sophie standing in front of me now. I wanted her to know she had me, if she wanted me. I wanted her to feel what I was feeling for the first time, unhindered. Pure, undeniable love and admiration for her, no matter what she felt or said in return. “I know I’m an idiot. I know I’ve been looking for every reason to push you away, but I wanted you to know that I finally understand.”

Sophie swallowed, her brightened eyes shifting from her hand on my chest, to my face. “Understand what?” she whispered as a swirl of color filled her cheeks.

“That nothing will ever change the way I feel about you, not Phil or rejection. You could hate me, and I would still feel the same. I won’t deny it anymore.”

Her cheek twitched, and like it was the most natural motion in the world, I brushed my thumb against her cheek. Her lips parted, but I continued. “It might’ve taken me thousands of miles, a mind-meddling know-it-all, and imagining something horrible might’ve happened to you, but I can tell you now what I’ve known since the beginning, but never had the nerve to say out loud.”

“Why couldn’t you say it?” she asked, surprising me. It almost felt like she was stalling, and my confidence wavered.

“Um—because I thought we wouldn’t last; because I wanted it to so badly, and I’d ruined everything. Sophie—I love you.” I took a breath. “I’ll never love anyone but you.”

She stared at me, her glassy eyes searching my face, scrutinizing every line and every shadow, like she was waiting for a twitch of uncertainty. She didn’t smile with relief, or shake her head, or pull away in rejection.

“Soph—”

She stepped closer, her palm still on my chest. I could see the thoughts churning in her eyes, but she was blocking her feelings.

“Alex,” she finally said, her gaze sweeping over me.

“Sophie,” I breathed.

“There was never a question.”

I searched the crystalline depths of her eyes, trying to understand.

“Between you and Phil.” While it wasn’t a rejection, it wasn’t really an answer either. “It wasn’t me feeling those things, not really. You were stubborn and frustrating, but I was a mess, too. Maybe this was all part of the journey, you know? Bumpy and chaotic, like Kat and JJ’s.”

Kat had shared enough with me to know they’d struggled to find peace their entire relationship.

“Both times,” Sophie added sadly, and I realized she was reading my mind. “If it’s only taken us a couple of years, I guess we’re lucky.”

“Soph—”

“Alex.” She leaned in.

“Soph,” I said again, needing her to tell me if I was or wasn’t too late. I had to hear it from her lips—I had to at least feel it—so that I knew it was real.

She smiled, watching me squirm. “Alex.” She purred my name, so close her nose was nearly touching mine.

I couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you going to say it at least?” I practically begged. Even with my newfound shield of bravery, I needed her to say the damn words.

Her amusement faded as she took pity on me. “I love you too,” she whispered.

I crushed my mouth against hers, and as if it was as easy as drawing breath, I felt all of her love fill me. All the days and nights I’d spent trying to unlove her, the energy and time wasted—the misery—was for nothing, and I would’ve hated myself for it, if I wasn’t so damn elated. My heart and mind were soaring sky-high with hers, and I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her tighter against me.

I saw the old us, the Whitely Sophie and Alex, scared and alone. I knew her rush of relief in seeing me after Jackson and I had finally found them at the Ranskins, after the car accident. I felt the exact moment she knew she loved me, after she thought she’d been kidnapped and saw we’d come for her. Her absolute certainty felt like a warm breeze against my skin, and my stomach fluttered as I kissed her harder.

Sophie was in my arms. There were no more questions, and no more uncertainties. I felt free, like I was home, and I never wanted to leave again.

She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me in deeper. I felt her love and lust, her happiness and relief. Her need and desire only amplified mine, and every emotion shared between us made our kiss all-consuming, and I groaned.

“Careful,” she murmured against my mouth. She drew in a deep breath, and pressed another long, heart-stopping kiss to my lips. “You make any more noises like that and you won’t be allowed in my room anymore, and definitely not with the door closed.” Her eyes twinkled and she winked at me.

I chuckled, nuzzling my nose into her neck. “We can’t have that,” I whispered, but I couldn’t let go of her either. I pressed my lips to the warm, salty skin of her jaw, and inhaled the sweet scent of her hair.

“Definitely not,” she breathed. Her head fell back as I trailed kisses up the column of her neck, until my mouth was on hers again. Her lips were as greedy as her fingers, kneading into the back of my head. Her tongue was soft against mine, and every ounce of her desire filled my veins.

“This is dangerous,” I rasped, leaning my forehead against hers. The pull was so strong between us, and we only intensified each other’s feelings.

Sophie licked her kiss-swollen lips with a nod. “Yeah, it is.”

“Did I tell you,” I said through a ragged breath. “Tomorrow I’m moving out into your old cabin.”

Her gaze flew open. “You are?”

“Yeah, I just decided.”

Her eyes shifted over me, and her pink mouth and flushed cheeks lifted with a barely containable grin. “I think that’s a great idea.”

I shrugged, as if my entire world wasn’t floating in the most euphonic haze imaginable. “I’ve had a few of them.” Leaning in, I pressed a final, drawn out kiss to her lips, and inhaled the lemony scent of her skin as I forced every awakened part of me to settle. The touch of our hands alone felt like a tortuous bliss, and imagining what it would feel like to have all of her, bare skin to bare skin, in my arms was going to drive me mad.

“You should probably, um, shut it down,” I told her, though feeling what she did was like a drug I needed in my veins. “You know, just for now.” I cleared my throat.

With a knowing grin, Sophie’s fingers trailed lightly down the back of my neck, then she rested her head against my shoulder. Her emotions and thoughts muted to a dull, warm pulsing between us, and I sighed with unwanted relief.

“Hey, Alex?” Her voice was soft, almost whimsical.

“Yeah?” I whispered.

“What time is it?”

I didn’t like that question, but I knew she was exhausted and needed sleep. “Really late—or early,” I said. I glanced behind me at her clock. It was after 4 a.m. I hated to let go of her, but it was unavoidable. “I’ll let you go to sleep.” I tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, desperate for it to be tomorrow already.

“I have a better idea.” Her cheek lifted with a quirk—another of her beautiful smiles. “If you’re up for it.”

77

Sophie

Alex and I had pulled one of the lounge chairs out on the deck to watch the sunrise. Cuddling, wrapped in a blanket, was not how I saw the day ending and the next one beginning, but it was perfect. No matter how heavy my eyelids became, I couldn’t possibly go to sleep. Lying with him was all I ever wanted, and it felt so perfectly right, no amount of exhaustion could take that from me.

His finger trailed lazily up and down my arm, and his heartbeat was steady against my ear. “What are you thinking about?” I asked, craning my neck to peer up at him.

“Honestly?”

“No, Alex. I want you to lie to me.”

He squeezed his arm tighter around me and smiled. “Mosquitoes.”

“Oh, geez.” I nestled closer into him, inhaling his musk and the brisk morning air.

“At the summit, one guy, an ecologist, was telling us that mosquitoes were engulfing cities now because of all of the stagnant water.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah. I never thought I’d be grateful for the occasional swarm here.”

In all the craziness of the past twenty-four hours, I hadn’t heard much about his trip. “What else did you learn at the summit?”

“We were only there a couple days, so not too much. We told them about Whitehorse though.”

“Any takers?” I asked, hopeful. We only had a couple more months before Alex had to hole himself up in the hydro plant again. I couldn’t imagine a few days going by without seeing him now, let alone weeks.

“There wasn’t a signup sheet or anything, but I think people were definitely interested. There were some survivors there, like Iris and Zoe, who had communities to go back to, but there were a lot of people living off the grid, alone too. People are still scared of what’s out there, of the crazy people and dangerous Abilities. Everyone wants to feel safe.” His voice drifted away, and I wondered what he was thinking about again—if it was the people he’d met in Prince Rupert and left behind.

“Iris was very pretty,” I mused.

Alex tilted his head to look down at me and smiled. “You saw her, did you?”

“Yes, I wasn’t prying—”

He kissed my forehead. “I know, Soph. You can see whatever you want. I don’t have anything to hide.”

I knew he meant that too, I could feel it in the steady beat of his heart against my cheek. “Later, will you tell me all about them, about all of them? I want to know about your favorite parts, and what you did for Iris’s father.” I didn’t want to just see it; I wanted him to tell me. I wanted to hear the pride in his voice, and live his time in Prince Rupert the way he remembered it.

“Of course I will.” As his arms squeezed around me, I felt the rush of utter contentment and joy, and I melted into him all over again, my body enlivened with the heat of promise and possibility. I couldn’t resist another stolen glance. Alex was mine, finally, and I felt like every dark hole in me had been filled with light, and every cold spot had been chased away. This was how it was meant to be. This was what Alex and I were meant to be. The glow around the flame; sunshine in a dewy morning sky.

His eyes barely had time to meet mine before my mouth was on his, allowing myself the freedom to feel everything. Knowing he wanted me too, made it even more euphoric. Cupping my hand on the back of his neck I pulled him closer, tasted him deeper. I didn’t just want Alex, it was impossible not to need him, and I would consume every part of him he would give me. I would fly high with his every touch, if gravity would let me.

The sliding glass door slid open, and tearing our lips apart, I whipped around with a racing heart to find Beau in the doorway.

“Hey, bud?” Alex rasped, finding his voice in the lusty haze that hung between us.

Beau ignored him and stepped outside, bleary eyed, with one pant leg bunched up, and a rumpled sleep shirt. Eventually, he looked at Alex and me, but didn’t seem to care much that we were there as he headed down the deck steps in his bare feet.

“Beau,” I said sitting up. “What are you—”

I heard an all too familiar chuffing in the woods, and the horses neighed in the pasture in panic.

“Beau!” Alex called, tossing the blanket off us and jumping to his feet.

“It’s fine,” Beau grumbled, and he walked precariously through the dirt toward the mama grizzly and the baby as they stepped out of the tree line.

“Beau!” Alex and I shouted, and as Alex ran toward the steps, I turned for the house to grab the gun and call for Jackson, and stopped short. Aria stood in the doorway, with mussed hair and a sleep-lined face. A smile, small at first, turned into a grin, and she stepped onto the deck.

“You came back!” she called, and pattered on little feet down the steps. She and Beau hurried over to the bears. The mother was massive and able to mangle them with a single swipe of her paw, if she wanted to; but when Alex moved for the stairs, I grabbed hold of his arm.

“Wait,” I said. “Just—wait a second.” Just like Beau had his wolves, Aria had her bears, and if they didn’t hurt Thea, they wouldn’t hurt Beau.

“Sophie—”

“Trust me,” I told him, holding his gaze. “I want to see what happens.”

With a heavy sigh, he slowly made his way down the steps, eyes locked on Beau and Aria. They trotted up to the bears, and without hesitation, Beau reached out and pet the baby, who let out a low, playful growl, and the mother bear nudged Aria with her large head, almost knocking the little girl to the ground.

Both of the kids giggled, and shaking my head, I looked at Alex. “How did Beau know they were out here?”

“What?” He pried his gaze from the incredible scene in front of us. “What do you mean?”

“I thought Beau could only communicate with the wolves? He was out here before Aria and knew they wouldn’t hurt him.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed, but he smiled as realization set in. “Whatever Mia taught him at the summit must’ve helped.”

We watched in silent awe as Beau leaned against the baby bear licking his hand. They were the same size, for now. Both Aria and Beau laughed, and I shook my head. “This isn’t good.”

“What?” Alex said, his amusement fading. “Why? Beau finally did it.”

I blinked at him, a laugh bubbling up in my throat. “A farm. A pack of wolves. Now we have two grizzlies? Elle and Jackson are going to freak.”

Maybe it was because we were so exhausted, or maybe it was because our lives had become so impossible, but our chuckles turned into unabashed laughter, and my cheeks began to hurt.

There were murmurs from the deck, followed by the creak of hurried footsteps. We glanced back at the house to find three gaping faces, and Thea skipping toward us.

Kat hesitated on the final step with eyes so wide I thought they might pop out of her head, and it took a split second for Elle and Jackson to comprehend what, exactly, was happening. Eventually, Jackson looked at Elle, and shaking his head, he rubbed his forehead with a groan. “Bloody hell.”

My shoulders shook, and Alex and I lost ourselves to another bout of laughter.

Epilogue

Elle

4 Months Later - Christmas Day

“I know it’s been a couple weeks since I was here last, but it seemed important that I come see you today.” I leaned in and brushed the fresh snow from Jenny’s headstone. “This is the first Christmas in over a decade that you’ve been near, and I wanted to give you this.”

I laid a framed family photo of all of us at the head of her grave. “You’ll see the Ranskins are in it, so is Aria. And, most importantly, Kat is smiling. Well—as much as Kat smiles, anyway.” It had taken some coaxing, but she’d finally come around. “She and Ross don’t hate each other anymore, so that’s a good thing. And since we have a few new settlers arriving every week, we have more people who can help keep the hydro plant going, so Alex is home for a while. He and Sophie are loving that.” I grumbled the last part. “They can barely keep their hands off each other. But I’m happy for them. It’s nice to have everyone smiling for once. Even Beau.”

Hearing the patter of footsteps in the snow, I peered through the trees. Little Foot hunched down to the river, lapping at the water’s edge. Deep down, I think Beau had come to terms with Luna and the wolves being his kindred spirits, which he’d learned wasn’t the case for most animal telepaths, so he was okay with that. Whatever he’d learned from Mia in Prince Rupert had given him that small, yet very important gift.

“We have quite the full house today,” I told her, and crouched beside the stones blanketed in white. “Everyone is here for Christmas, which is a first, and it’s wonderful.” Knowing we might not all be together if it wasn’t for Jenny, made my chest ache with longing to see her again.

“Even Took came up to spend it with us,” I told her, rallying myself. I had a house full of people to go back to, and I didn’t want to dampen the mood by having swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “He and Kat get along splendidly. You’d understand why, if you knew him. I think though,” I said, allowing myself to hope, “I think the Ranskins might actually decide to stay indefinitely. I think Took is the only one we have to win over, but I’ll sic Thea on him, and he won’t be able to tell her no.”

“Woody and Stanley would love it too. Since the Ranskins never got sick, I think Stanley is intrigued by them. And Jade and Del are a wonderful help with Aria. She’s grown very fond of Stanley, even if he still has a hard time with the parental part of parenthood. They’re learning, and Jade is patient, and a great teacher. So you see, we’re one big happy family, even though I miss you so much it hurts.”

Heavy footsteps approached behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder to find a buttoned-up Jackson, wearing a beanie, with a pink nose and rosy cheeks on his bearded face.

“I thought I might find you here,” he said, and squatted down beside me. He looked at Jenny’s grave.

“Were you really looking for me, or are you escaping the houseful of kids, and I’m not just talking about the three preteens.”

Jackson chuckled. “I don’t mind all the kids, young or old.”

“No?” I arched an eyebrow.

His hazel eyes twinkled as they met mine, like they held a thousand hopes and secrets for us to share. “No. Kids are good,” he answered softly. “The bigger the family, the better.”

I stared at him, unblinking as he let the words hang between us, and my heart raced a little. We had never talked about children of our own; I didn’t want it to be a choice he’d ever have to make, knowing how close he held Molly to his heart.

“Don’t overthink it, Elle.” He smirked. “Come on.” He nodded back toward the house. “I came to bring you back. Dinner’s just about ready.”

Jackson took my gloved hand in his and pulled me up. “To be honest,” I said, wiping a wisp of hair out of my eyes. My mitten was cold and wet with snow. “For the first time, I’m a little frightened to eat, knowing Woody’s been helping Alex.”

“Don’t worry, Sophie was chaperoning.” Jackson reached out and picked a snowflake from my hair. As his gaze shifted over me, a smile curved his lips. “Pink looks good on you.” He ran the back of his gloved finger gently over my cheek.

“I have to admit, I’m actually a little chilly.” It rarely happened anymore with the fire simmering in my blood, but sometimes the cold still found a way to sneak in.

Jackson stepped closer. “I can take care of that for you.” He flashed me one of his roguish grins I loved so much before he leaned in and brushed his lips over mine, deft and featherlight, making my toes curl in my boots. He pressed another one to my temple, letting his lips and warm breath linger there, and I heard myself sigh. Bedtime suddenly felt too far away.

I cleared my throat, feeling my skin flush with warmth.

“Red,” he mused, watching the heat swirl over my cheeks. “That looks even better.” His smirk held a hint of victory.

“You better watch out,” I warned, and cocked my head to the side. “You think you’re a God, but even they have weaknesses. Don’t think I won’t use yours against you.”

Jackson’s eyes darkened and glittered in the winter afternoon. “Careful, Elle. That sounds an awful lot like a dare.”

I batted my eyelashes at him. “I guess we’ll just have to see.”

Heaving in a breath, he shook his head. “This night is going to go by slowly isn’t it,” he muttered, though it was practically a groan, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m afraid so.”

Jackson nodded toward the house again. “Shall we return to the chaos then?”

I glanced back at Jenny’s grave, content in knowing that things ended the way she’d wanted them too, and not many people were given that. At least I still had a small part of her with me.

Peering up at Jackson, strong and true—the love of my life—I reminded myself how lucky I really was to have him. To have Sophie and Alex, Thea and Beau. To have Ross and Kat, and everyone else who made my life so full, I couldn’t imagine life any other way. “Lead the way home?”

With a big, perfect smile, Jackson squeezed my hand. “Back to the chaos we go.”

THE END

You can read more about Kat and Ross in Fading Shadows installment here.

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Also by Lindsey Pogue

www.lindseypogue.com

THE ENDING WORLD

Savage North Chronicles

The Darkest Winter

The Longest Night Prequel Novella

Midnight Sun

Fading Shadows

Untamed

Unbroken

The Ending Series

After The Ending

Into The Fire

Out Of The Ashes

Before The Dawn

Beginnings: Ending Series Origin Stories

The Ending Series: World Before

The Ending Legacies

World After

OTHER SERIES INCLUDE:

Forgotten Lands

Dust and Shadow

Borne of Sand and Scorn - Prequel Novella

Saratoga Falls Love Stories

Whatever It Takes

Nothing But Trouble

Told You So

Charity Anthologies

Beyond The Galaxy

For more information visit: www.lindseypogue.com

About Lindsey

Lindsey Pogue has always been a sucker for a good love story. She completed her first new adult manuscript in high school and has been writing tales of love and friendship, history and adventure ever since. When she’s not chatting with readers, plotting her next storyline, or dreaming up new, brooding characters, Lindsey’s generally wrapped in blankets watching her favorite action flicks with her own leading man. They live in Northern California with their rescue cat, Beast. You can follow Lindsey’s shenanigans and writing adventures just about everywhere.

Please consider leaving a book review. It’s incredibly important to indie authors like me.

www.lindseypogue.com

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