Sanctuary's Aggression Complete Collection Box Set
Date: 2021-05-15 07:00:00+00:00

Sanctuary’s Aggression Complete Box Set

A Post-apocalyptic Survival Series

Maira Dawn

Sanctuary’s Aggression © 2019 Maira Dawn

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Not part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

For my husband, Steve,
for all of his loving support in my many earnest, and sometimes crazy endeavors.

Also by Maira Dawn

Sanctuary’s Aggression Series in order of release:

Sanctuary’s Aggression

The Road: Sanctuary’s Aggression 2

The Climb: Sanctuary’s Aggression 3

Sanctuary’s Aggression Box Set - Books 1-3

The Girl: Kelsey’s Story - Sanctuary’s Aggression Novelette

SeaBound: The Beginning Prequel 1

SeaBound: The Atlantis Cure Prequel 2

The Trial: Sanctuary’s Aggression 4

The Rescue: Sanctuary’s Aggression 5

What Used To Be Series

What Used to be Texas - currently being released by chapters weekly on Kindle Vella.

* * *

VISIT MAIRA DAWN

Stay up to date with new releases and more!

www.mairadawn.com
https://www.facebook.com/mairadawn.writer/

Contents

Sanctuary’s Aggression 1

Introduction

1. After Today

2. It Begins

3. Jesse

4. Ohio

5. Tell Me

6. Just Go

7. Seen Worse

8. The Bengay Standoff

9. Mighta Coulda

10. A Sigh of Relief

11. A Good Day after All

12. The Sick

13. A Goner

14. A Monster

15. All Done

16. Up to Me

17. Way Too Much

18. Piece of Junk

19. The Woodsmen Variety

20. Stalled

21. This Part

22. The Temper of Dylan

23. Had To

24. Did Alright

25. The Cabin

26. Sorry

27. People

28. Skye Baby

29. Story of My Life

30. Two Days

Sanctuary’s Aggression 2: The Road

1. Need Help

2. Ever

3. Your Boy

4. Brother

5. Random Acts of Kindness

6. Slow and Easy

7. Anyway…

8. This is Skye

9. Need Something

10. I Don’t Want To

11. Run

12. Over

13. Tell It

14. Not Proud

15. Not Enough

16. Happy for You

17. Not Easy

18. All Along

19. You Never Know

20. The Town

21. The Road

22. The Note

23. Strength

24. Wait for It

25. In Front of Me

26. A Mistake

27. Hurry

28. This Tryin Thing

29. Numbers

30. History

31. So Much

32. The Good

33. Dad

34. One Way or the Other

35. Seems to Me

36. The Crash

37. Ready

Sanctuary’s Aggression 3: The Climb

1. Calvin

2. Close

3. Home

4. Promise Me

5. Weston

6. Get This Done

7. Flash Bang

8. Getting Home

9. Quarantine

10. A Fine Idea

11. The Picnic

12. Reach

13. Promises

14. Something About That Woman

15. Womanly Attention

16. No Sense in Freezing

17. Ain’t Any Good

18. Burdens

19. Words

20. Crazy Out of his Mind

21. A Different Man

22. Salvation

23. Family

24. Tomorrow It Is

25. If You Stay

26. A Chance

27. One Piece

28. Close

29. Deserted

30. Headlines

31. My Boy

32. Hope

33. White Coats

34. The Bad Guys

35. I Will If I Have To

36. Defeat

37. The Only Thing

38. Skye

39. Fix Her

40. The End of Me

41. The Beginning of Them

Sanctuary’s Aggression 4: The Girl

1. Fenton

2. The Diary

3. Another World

4. Boyfriends

5. Dirt

6. Under Normal Circumstances

7. Sirens

8. Jason

9. Only Dad and Me

10. Breathing

11. Endings

12. Never Be Alone

Sanctuary’s Aggression 5: The Trial

1. Skye

2. Kelsey

3. Tom

4. Jesse’s Request

5. We Were There

6. Horde

7. Humanity

8. Grey Day

9. Face Off

10. The White Coat Question

11. Big Sister

12. Sue Ellen

13. Tension

14. Court

15. Testify

16. Attacks

17. Fight

18. Judgement

19. Nightmares

20. Barbarton

21. Storm

22. The Overlook

23. Potatoes

24. The Exchange

25. Remembering

26. Want To

27. Of Course

28. End Up

29. Praying

30. Family

31. Waiting

32. Heartbeats

33. Uncle

34. Children

35. Tears

36. Dreams

37. Baked

38. Evil

39. Disease

40. Argument

41. Tough

42. Memories

43. Every Minute

44. Mountainside

45. My Girl

46. Wrong

47. Tough

48. Hang On

Sanctuary’s Aggression 6: The Beginning

Prologue

1. The Smack

2. Tormentors

3. Spire Cliff

4. The Shadow

5. Jata Ara

6. Rogue Wave

7. You Are Okay

8. Big Evil Man

9. Abominations

10. Lights

11. Questions

12. Tell Me About

13. And Your Name Is?

14. That Rage

15. Murder

16. The Garden

17. The Beginning

18. Family Fights

19. The Vow

20. Your Sister?

21. Stay Tomorrow

22. Better Than Human

23. Breathe

24. Even If

25. Hate is a Strong Word

26. A Dream

27. Family Dinner

28. A Mother’s Fear

29. Talk

30. Endara

31. Our Son

32. I Wish…

33. Home

34. Lessons

35. Broke

36. The Artifact

37. This is What Happens…

38. Argos

39. Busted

40. Let Me

41. The Wedding

42. Secrets

43. The Reception

44. May I?

Sanctuary’s Aggression 7: The Atlantis Cure

1. The Couple

2. Love and Tragedy

3. Happy

4. Start There

5. Goodbye for Now

6. A Start

7. My Main Man

8. The Most Danger

9. Confessions

10. There had been a Day

11. Soon

12. The Heist

13. The Box

14. Hope

15. Home

16. Debate

17. Justice

18. Trouble

19. Jorah

20. Reaching

21. Disagreements

22. The Handshake

23. Even This Wrong

24. Threats

25. All Edges

26. Murder

27. Hello, Little Niece

28. A Special Cocktail

29. Labs

30. Changes

31. Time

32. Deadly

33. Escape

34. Revelation

35. The Best Thing

36. Reeling

37. Your Name

38. Something Horrible

39. It Must End

40. Everyone Makes Mistakes

41. Escape

42. Turns Out

43. The Larger Good

44. Dark Horizon

45. Genetics

46. Nick

47. You Would Be Surprised

48. Disappeared

49. Sierra

50. Little Boy

51. In The House

52. Dark Storm

53. The New Way Home

54. Not Problem at All

55. Save The World

Sanctuary’s Aggression 8: The Rescue

Prologue

1. Taken

2. Lost

3. Horde

4. The Containment Center

5. The Standoff

6. Outrage

7. Answers

8. A Bullet in the Brain

9. Pure Optimism

10. Life Lessons

11. Chocolate Chip Cookies

12. A Mean Streak

13. Whatever

14. Confessions

15. Pieces

16. Seaside

17. Make It Through

18. The Long Night

19. Fighters

20. The Meeting

21. The Story of My Life

22. Day One

23. Something More

24. The Dark Room

25. You’ll Love It

26. The Plan

27. The Way Out

28. The Chase

29. Her Trouble

30. The Question

31. Choices

32. Worlds Collide

33. Alarm Bells

34. The Table

35. A Slim Chance

36. So Close

37. The Reveal

38. Impossible

39. Back with You

40. The Love of His Life

41. Introductions

42. Atlantis

43. The Sea

44. Quite the Adventure

45. The Best Thing

46. Free

47. Grand Plans

48. Scars

49. To Battle

50. Into the Fray

51. Onward

52. Almost

53. Nothing

54. Falling

55. Walk Away

56. Rest

57. Cabin on the Mountian

58. A Better World

Afterword

About the Author

Also by Maira Dawn

Sanctuary’s Aggression 1

This box set is compiled in the order in which the books were written. The prequel books, The Beginning and The Atlantis Cure, can be read first or where they are located in the box set.

The prequels are important to the conclusion of the series.

Thank you for reading the series. :)

Introduction

Rabies is a terrifying, life-threatening condition that kills over fifty-five thousand people a year. Without early treatment the fatality rate is nearly one hundred percent.

Nightmare symptoms include, confusion, uncontrollable rage, hallucinations, excruciating pain hyper-salivation difficulty swallowing, psychosis, terror, convulsions, coma, and death. The incubation period is from ten days to one year.

To spread the infection, the host’s brain is rewired by the virus to bite others.

What if rabies was altered? What if it became airborne, mutating with a flu virus?

The deadliest flu virus known to man.

The 1918 Flu Pandemic killed fifty to one hundred million people, making its victims suffer. Within hours of feeling the first symptoms of extreme fatigue, fever, and headache, many victims turned blue. The blue shade could become so pronounced that it was difficult to determine a patient’s original skin color.

Patients often coughed with such force they tore their abdominal muscles. Lungs filled with so much liquid, they would suffocate to death. Foamy blood exited their mouths and noses.

To this day, no one knows why the flu virus suddenly mutated into such a deadly form. Nor do they know how to prevent it from happening again.

This is the story of that possibility.

What would life be like?

What would you be like?

One

After Today

Skye's face paled. The broadcast's warnings echoed through her mind even as the terrified voice on the radio faded away. A hostile mob of rabies-infected people scoured the streets of Colton looking for the healthy, and they headed her way.

The disease escalated faster than anyone predicted. They said we would have a year, at least six months. Skye's heart drummed against her chest. We had three.

A fresh wave of fear pulsed through her. She had little time, and for a moment, the notion paralyzed her. The sharp ticking of a clock rang through her head. Skye stepped one way, then the other, unsure of where to begin.

They're coming! The screaming thought spurred Skye into action. She tore through the spacious rooms of her house, her heart tapping out a rhythm as fast as her feet. The events of the last couple of months pounded through her head.

Skye's mind spun like a Tilt-a-Whirl randomly speeding through everything they needed. Clothes... toothbrush... sleeping bags... food.

She halted at her bedroom door and scanned the room. There it is. Skye grabbed her moss-green backpack and rushed into the walk-in closet. From her dresser, she pulled jeans, shirts and other essentials shoving them into it.

Her thoughts shrieked for her to hurry while a low voice in the back of her mind berated her for letting fear get in her way, causing her to delay. It could have all been done, should have all been done.

Skye covered her mouth to hold in a cry. I might have just procrastinated myself to death.

Her bare feet slapped the cool, gray stone tile floor when she raced through the bathroom grabbing a bag of toiletries. Skye startled as she caught the reflection of her green eyes in the mirror, wide with fright. She moved on, pushing at her long, dark hair, but the sight stayed with her.

A bead of sweat traced Skye's back as she ran to her well-equipped kitchen. She flung open the white cabinets pulling out peanut butter, protein bars, fruit, and water, setting them on the marble countertop. Is this all the food that’s left? I need enough for both of us.

The boy was her priority now. Skye needed to get to him—that she knew. How much time she had, she did not.

A wave of nausea overtook her, and she fought it back, gripping the smooth marble with her trembling hands. There is no time for this. I have to leave, leave now. She threw everything on top of the clothes in her bag and turned to go.

A sharp crack then glass shattering at the neighboring house stopped her short. The odor of burning wood drifted to her.

I need a weapon.

The uninvited thought shocked her. She covered her lips as if she had said the words aloud. It shoved away all other worries, and she imagined the many ways she might need to protect herself.

Skye looked around the immaculate room and saw her large set of kitchen knives. They were versatile. A knife, especially this kind of knife, didn't automatically make her a bad person.

She wrapped her hand over the smooth, wooden handle and swiftly drew the longest knife from the butcher block. Still, the swoosh it made when sliding into the slim side pocket of the backpack caused her stomach to flutter with uneasiness.

Skye grasped the increasingly heavy bag and ran into the hallway, snatching her purse containing the car keys while slipping on shoes. Out of habit, she twisted the lock on her stained-glass front door.

Stupid. Can't come back here ever again, not after what I'm going to do.

Skye crossed onto the hard concrete of the garage floor. She yanked open the back door of her blue Jeep throwing in her backpack and her unopened camping gear.

Her stomach clenched when she heard voices. She leaped into the vehicle and slammed the key into the ignition, turning it before she even hit the seat.

She threw the Jeep into reverse and floored it. Tires spun and squealed as they met pavement. White smoke trailed over the roof of the car.

Skye raced down the street. She pushed the gas pedal as far as she dared as the Jeep screeched around the wild curves of the West Virginia road. She only hoped she would arrive in time to save Jesse.

A last panicked look in the rear-view mirror told her she had narrowly escaped the horde. As she sped through the historic town, she gave it a silent, sentimental goodbye.

One way or another, after today, my life will never be the same.

Two

It Begins

Two months earlier, Skye was laid back in her padded office chair humming as she munched on her favorite salad. Her right hand clicked her mouse, cuing up a few James Corden and Jimmy Fallon videos.

Her favorite lunch consisted of salad and coffee. Today, she treated herself to two cookies from the batch of chocolate chip she made last night. Skye liked to keep things simple. Her job presented plenty of complications. Young, troubled patients with emotional parents kept her walking a tightrope most days. And acerbated her own anxiety issues. Lunch was her time. Simple, normal, quiet.

A notification of a new email from her friend, Diane, flashed onto the screen. Skye clicked on it. Diane had included a YouTube link along with the text.

Check this out. It happened near Colton. Everyone's saying this is a hoax, but it's odd. No, it's more than that. It's something strange. What is wrong with this guy?

Before and after the message, there were several grimacing emojis. In spite of that, Skye stopped humming.

Her curiosity peaked, she clicked the link and pushed play

It was an amateur video, grainy and shaky. This alone would have been enough for Skye to move on, sure it was a joke, regardless of what Diane thought. But she stayed her hand. Her cousin, Tom, was in the video. Tall, blonde and built like a linebacker, he was hard to miss.

In her work as a therapist for abused children, Skye often needed information from the local law enforcement agency. Her first choice was Tom, the local sheriff. One thing she knew, if by-the-book Tom was in this video, it was no hoax.

Skye's gaze narrowed as she studied the dark film. A suspect’s black SUV sat on the long strip of grass beside a four-lane highway with multiple police cars surrounding it. While the closer lanes had no traffic, cars still zipped by in the far two lanes.

She ate her salad as about thirty-seconds went by. Police lights flashed. In the fading light, Skye could see a shadowy man in the driver's seat of the SUV. An orange time stamp flashed at the bottom right of the screen. It was taken yesterday evening.

Uniformed officers stood in a circle a few yards from the car. Some on alert, others with hands resting on their belts, looking off into the distance. Tom faced the tail of the SUV and away from the camera. With shoulders squared, he looked ready for anything.

Skye's hand tightened on her silver fork. The peace of the afternoon was shattered. What exactly was this strange thing Diane talked about?

The police officer closest to the suspect's car shouted, "Hands on the steering wheel, sir. Show us your hands."

There was no movement.

"Hands on the steering wheel!"

The suspect quickly raised his arms well over his head. They wavered as he held them there for a moment. He dropped them on the steering wheel with such force they bounced before he grasped it.

The sound on the video faded in and out. "Out of... car, sir."

The man didn't move. He didn't even twitch.

"Sir? I need... step... car now!"

Tom moved his hand to hover over his holster.

Still, the guy didn't respond. The officers nodded to each other. With caution, they took a few steps closer to the vehicle.

They came to an instant standstill when the driver's door unlatched. It didn't open all the way. It stayed there, barely a bump along the side of the automobile. Something that should have been scarcely noticeable, yet it was all everyone watched.

The opening widened, inch by inch. It was an old man struggling to get out of the car. No, not an old man. Someone disabled or ill.

One jean-covered leg moved from the car to the ground. Once that foot was stable, the man carefully transferred the other.

A shaky hand grabbed the vehicle's door to hoist himself out. His head down, he paid no attention to the chaos surrounding him.

He took a single slow, unsteady step, then another. A hand laid on the SUV windows to maintain balance. His right foot lightly dragged along the ground as he walked.

At first glance, he didn't appear sinister. Dressed in jeans, a white T-shirt, and a light-blue zippered jacket, he could have been making a run to the local grocery store. However, on closer inspection, something was off, something more than difficulty walking.

His stiff, unstable gait moved him toward the back of the SUV.

Once then twice, he lifted his head. The wide angle of the lens didn’t show much detail, but he squinted his eyes so tight, it was hard to imagine how he could see. Both times the man gave his head a fierce shake then lowered his gaze back to the ground.

Often the man stopped and gave a strange shudder. After a few of these episodes, he jerked and heavily leaned against the van. His head whipped forward, and his hands moved to his chest. Bloody gobs of spit flew from his mouth and rolled down his chin.

The milling crowd of bystanders outside the ring of police cars grew, and chatter erupted. The man squinted up at them as he continued to stumble along the side of his black vehicle.

With one hand clenching a taillight, he lurched around the end of the car. A light breeze caught his unzipped jacket and blew the left flap back.

Strapped to his waist was a gun.

The police backed up in unison as they pulled their weapons. Sharp and loud, they barked out their orders. "Halt! Stop! Hands in the air!"

The suspect did not respond.

A scowling officer snapped out instructions. "Lay your weapon on the ground!"

But the man continued to hobble along, one short, shaky step after another as he dragged a leg behind him.

The policeman shook his head and conferred with two others.

As dusk turned to darkness, they struggled to see. A few officers pulled out flashlights and pointed them toward the SUV. The rays of light played along the exterior of the dark-colored car searching for the suspect.

The sudden display of bright light made the surrounding night appear that much darker. They hunted for the man without success, adding more flashlights to the search. The brilliant beams began to move in a frantic pattern. Out of the darkness, he appeared.

The intense beam caught him full in the face. The man, who had acknowledged nothing else, reacted.

Hands clenched into fists as he flung his arms up to cover his face. His head swung so hard his whole body moved back and forth with the motion. With a quick movement, he brought his arms back down. Stiff and straight, he held them at his side.

The camera zoomed in on the suspect's face. There was an odd blankness to his eyes. His skin was pasty-white, drained of all color, except for his lips. A trick of the light, perhaps, because his lips appeared to be blue.

From those blue lips, red, foamy saliva dripped from his mouth, over his chin until it rolled off his face staining his jacket.

The suspect stilled for a moment. His face twisted in rage. He bared his red-smeared teeth and lunged toward the nearest flashlight.

The officer behind it called out a warning. "Sir! We know you are unwell. You must surrender, or we will shoot!"

The man stopped and wavered. His eyes rounded in desperation. He spoke for the first time, his voice hesitant, guttural and phlegmy. "I can't! I've tried."

Disease warred against man. The winner was clear when he lurched toward the policeman.

The officer fired his gun, but showing pity, hit the suspect's lower leg. The man's body jerked, but he kept coming. Pain didn't affect him. When surrounded, he changed direction, to another light, another officer.

"Stand down, or we will put you down."

A second shot rang out. Blood ran from the suspect's upper arm dripping to the pavement. His leg wound continued to bleed, drenching his entire lower leg.

There was no sign of slowing. Instead, the man's outrage increased. He dripped with sweat. His chest heaved with emotion, his hands became fists.

Bloody spit oozed between his clenched teeth. Blue lips pulled back in a tight, unnatural grimace dripping red wavering ribbons onto his chest.

He turned to another light, his face stark in the glare—Tom's flashlight. Despite his injuries, the suspect raced toward Skye's cousin. Tom took two small steps backward before stopping and holding his ground.

Tom opened his mouth to call out. There was no time. The air shattered with the sound of the shots. Once. Twice.

The man dropped to the ground. A serene expression graced his face. As if, at last, he felt peace. Then he was gone.

The video flickered and ended.

Skye’s shaky hands covered her mouth, holding back a scream. Her bracelets lightly clanged together as she lowered her arms and leaned back in her chair. She willed herself to draw in a few slow breaths to calm herself. She would have heard by now if Tom was hurt.

She took a sip of the still-steaming coffee and lowered the cup too fast. Skye knocked it against her desk and sent small beads of hot latte sloshing onto her hand. She gasped at the sharp burn of the hot liquid. After righting the cup and correctly setting it on the table, she brought her hand back up to her lipsticked mouth.

Skye leaned toward the computer screen and narrowed her eyes in thought. She rewound the video and stopped it on the dying man. She stared at the scene. It was impossible.

Skye raised her gaze and let it drift across the homey earth tones of the large room. Her latte's taste turned acrid on her tongue as her troubled mind replayed what she’d just seen and rejected it. She couldn’t be seeing it right.

But sometimes the mind comes across something so unfamiliar, so bizarre it refuses to accept it as reality. Was that happening to her?

No, Tom was in the video. It had to be real. Blue lips, the dripping red saliva? Was the limp a symptom too? How can a person be shot that many times and keep going? None of it made sense.

Worried about Tom, and wanting answers, Skye picked up her cell phone. She punched in his number, but all she heard was ring after ring without a response.

Three

Jesse

Skye groaned as she ended the third failed call to Tom. With no voicemail, and the police station's mandate that personal cell phones stay in their lockers, it seemed almost impossible to reach him during the day unless it was an emergency, but she had to try.

Skye turned back to her work, determined to try again later. The slight scratch of shifting papers was soon the only sound in her spacious office. She reviewed these notes for the umpteenth time. The eerie video kept tugging at Skye's mind, and she nagged herself to focus on her patient's case.

Her client this afternoon was twelve-year-old Jesse Bailey. Her hardest one to date, and the child she worried about the most. Skye wanted very much to help this boy, but he wasn't having any of it. She sighed and nipped her inside cheek, a frown starting on her face.

Chipping away at his granite exterior was proving harder than Skye imagined, and she had known it would be difficult. No wonder though, Jesse had been through so much.

The death of his mother two years ago had left him alone with his abusive father, Frankie Bailey. Jesse’s grandmother took in his older sister, Sue Ellen. Other than them, Jesse had no other relatives Skye could track down. And if he knew of any, he wasn't sharing that information with her.

When Skye in formed the grandmother her grandson’s homeless state, she hadn’t said much. And what she did say hadn’t been helpful.

Refusing to take Jesse, she said, ”Jesse’s sister helps around the house, but I'm not up to takin in another young'un, especially a boy. I know Frankie whales on the boy, but he'll be fine. After all, a boy needs a good beatin now and again."

Pfft. Skye puffed out a breath over the hand loosely covering her mouth. Let's see you get a good beating.

Skye shook her head. This wasn't the first time she ran into this attitude, no matter where she worked, and it wouldn't surprise her if Frankie had been the object of some harsh treatment himself. When Skye asked the grandmother if she could speak to Sue Ellen, and the woman flatly denied her, it reinforced this thought. Skye made a notation to suggest someone stop in on the girl.

Skye brought a hand to the back of her neck. Jesse's lack of any loving family was a concern. To help a young person through trauma was a complicated process for them. When there was no support system, it became almost impossible.

Skye turned the page on his report. No one remembered when the abuse of the boy started, but teachers and neighbors alike had been more than willing to offer other family details.

Jesse's dad, Francis Lee Bailey, aka Frankie, hadn’t aspired to be a great dad or even a good dad. When he was younger, he'd had big dreams of being a race car driver. Those disappeared when his girlfriend became pregnant, and her family insisted on marriage. It appeared it was never a good union though Frankie tried at first. There were regular paychecks, and neighbors said he was home most nights.

"A second kid. He begins over-drinking," Skye mumbled as she ran her finger down the report. "Two nights becomes most nights. Less money for necessities." By the time Jesse enrolled in school, the family was getting all the state help they could but hardly got by.

"Troubles at school from the beginning. The teacher visited the home and reported the home and mother in bad condition." Skye flipped the page.

After his mom's death, things got worse. For long stretches, Jesse often missed school, his demeanor changed and his grades, never good, started steadily falling. He repeated his last grade twice.

Somehow, all this slid through the cracks until Jesse showed up in the ER with a broken arm, which he insisted happened when he fell from a tree.

Skye sighed. That was doubtful. And that didn't explain the evidence of abuse, the bruising and welts covering his back. When asked about them, he shrugged them off as if they were commonplace.

Small for his age, skinny to the point of being boney, authorities also strongly suspected he hadn't been getting enough to eat. Jesse insisted that he ate, but by his father's hand or by his own, it was hard to tell. It was clear that something was wrong.  So for the last two months Jesse Bailey had been Skye’s patient, and he had yet to open up to her.

Skye barely got herself settled when there was a light knock on the half-opened door. Jesse slowly peeked around the door and scanned the room. Once satisfied it was safe, he pushed the door open the rest of the way and shut the door behind him. He paused and took a deep breath before continuing.

Jesse never seemed able to relax even though everything in this office, from the calm colors to the comfortable furniture, and even the toys, had been chosen to put the kids at ease. Jesse had tried the couch, then one chair after another as if he too realized he should be more comfortable than he was. In the end, he settled on one spot and used it almost without fail.

She greeted him, wishing she could make this easier on him, but gaining his trust would take time. Jesse didn't reply, but her gaze followed him as he made his way to his favorite chair.

Skye held a grimace as she once again noticed the coffee table between them. Well, at least I know which chair he prefers. Although I am sure if Jesse felt he’d given me even that much satisfaction, he’d switch it up on me.

Jesse’s shoulders hunched inward. He kept his eyes on the floor as he walked, refusing to take in the room around him.

He either carries the weight of the world on his shoulders or is waiting for the next blow... or both.

Once Jesse got to his chair and settled, he straightened his shoulders, lifted his head and stared straight into Skye's face, his brown eyes challenging her.

She sighed, and a dispirited expression flittered across her face.

Another one of those days. Will I ever get Jesse to realize I am trying to help him? Has he received so little help in his life that the mere thought is so impossible to believe?

His eyes flickered and slid away.

"Hello, Jesse," she said again with a small smile.

"Hey," was his cool response.

Skye straightened in her seat as she slyly examined Jesse. His slight frame seemed even smaller in the overstuffed chair and his preferred dark-colored clothing. She checked the doctor's notes. Jesse had gained two pounds this week. He was making progress.

Jesse eyed Skye. He knew what she was up too. The boy was a perceptive one. He ran a hand through his ever-spiky black hair, too many cowlicks on one small head. He was nervous. It was time to start.

We'll begin with something good. Hopefully, lighten the mood. Skye began, "Can you tell me something good that happened this week?"

Jesse was ready for her weekly question and was quick to say, "We had French fries three times for lunch at school." He was quiet for a minute, then he blurted out, "Did you see that video?"

Skye's head jerked up. "What video?"

"The one with the guy who can't die."

"Oh, Jesse, please tell me you didn't watch that."

Jesse huffed and crossed his arms. "Everyone else was, why wouldn't I?"

"They were?" Skye put a hand to her cheek. Of course, they were. "It's just—it's rather violent."

"No worse than what's on the news and every one of the shows."

She hated to admit it, but he was probably right. Though that subject they could talk about further another day. But today, he was cooperating, which was more than she expected after the look he'd given her.

"Well," Skye said going back to their original topic, "sounds like a good week if you enjoy French fries. And as for the video, I saw it. I was very sorry for the man. Something was wrong with him."

Jesse mumbled an unintelligible reply. Her lack of excitement over the video disappointed him.

Her gaze zeroed in on the game pile. She'd often found it was easier to get children to talk freely when you were doing something together. Some kids liked to draw or color. Jesse preferred playing a board game.

"Ok, so what game are we going to play today?"

"I don't care." He tapped his fingers on his armrest, avoiding her eyes.

"You do care, and it's your decision. It's not for me to decide, all yours," Skye insisted in a cheerful voice.

Jesse rolled his eyes. She was in way too high of spirits for his taste. He sighed. "Fine then, Jenga."

Skye laughed to herself. Of course, it is Jenga. Another favorite he has given away without realizing it. It's his favorite because he always wins, and I always lose. I'm so awful at this game.

After she set up Jenga, they settled in at the table. "You go first since you're so bad at it," Jesse offered with a flick of his hand as he relaxed back in his chair.

"That is thoughtful of you, Jesse, to give me a fighting chance." Skye's voice was laced with sugar.

Jesse snorted. "Ain't nothin fighting about it. Not like you have a chance in h- ah, blazes of winning," he corrected himself. Skye did not allow swearing in her office.

Skye smiled her thanks at his restraint, then removed her first piece. "There! I'm off to a great start."

"Hope you're enjoying it." Scorn trailed from Jesse's lips, along with his soft West Virginia accent.

"Seriously? You are mocking me with my first piece?" She chided him, then changed the subject, "So how are your goals going this week?"

His small shoulders shrugged, "I dunno. Okay, I guess. You don't smell me, do ya?"

"No, I don't, and your hair looks good too," Skye said after looking him over. "So we will say bathing went well. And were you able to get all your meals in?"

"I stayed full."

"Did you eat all the meals we discussed during our Goals session?"

"Yeah, I ate all the meals we discussed during our Goals session," he parroted.

"Great! Two of your goals completed this week. That's an accomplishment!"

"I guess." Jesse shrugged and tried to seem indifferent, but there was the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Were you able to complete any other goals?"

"Ms. Smith said to tell you I cleaned my room and took out the garbage for her without complaining or giving her a sour look."

Whoa. Helping others, this was a first.

"I'm sure you made her happy," Skye said. "How did you feel?"

"Okay, I guess."

"Okay is good, Jesse," she said with a soft smile.

He scowled, "Yeah, maybe."

Skye was happy the week had gone so well for him. This was the breakthrough Jesse needed.

"Any other news for me?" Skye asked.

"I seen my Dad."

Skye's hand tightened on the chair's armrest. This was unusually fast, and not what she had recommended. "How did the visit go?"

Jesse spoke without emotion, still unsure over the turn of events. "Dad said he hasn't been drinkin. He's going to those meetings and counseling, like me, and he's gonna see if the judge'll let him have me back."

With care, Skye said, "That's a big change. Are you okay with that?"

"Well, if he ain't drinking..." Jesse drawled, then he became defensive, "He is my dad, you know."

And there it was. No matter how bad a parent was, a child will almost always continue to love them. It may be mixed up with many other feelings, but it was there, even when they didn't recognize what it was.

"Yes, he is your dad. Okay well, we will talk about what to expect with these changes during our sessions next time. In the meantime, how did school go?"

"I only got in trouble, like once a day. Dad and I are both trying to do better." Pride tinged Jesse's voice.

So Dad was the source of Jesse's turnaround. "That's good, Jesse, it will mean a better way of life for you both."

"Yeah."

"Fights in school?"

"Yeah," he sighed.

"Yeah," she sighed.

At the end of her sessions, Skye tried Tom again, but it was close to 5 o'clock when she reached him. At the sound of his voice, she sighed and leaned a hand on her desk. "Tom, I saw a YouTube video you were in, and I--"

Tom interrupted her with a throaty chuckle. "Yeah, the crazy thing has made me famous. The number of calls I've gotten since it went live is insane." He became serious. "That was a bad one though."

"Tom. It seems—I don't know—I am not even sure what I want to ask or where to start."

"Yeah, I get it. If I hadn't been there myself, I wouldn't believe it either. Skye, I been brushing off people when they call but there's something... well, we need to talk."

Tom's tone of voice set Skye on edge. "Sure. Just name the time and place."

"Better at the coffee shop, I reckon. How about tomorrow afternoon? Around 2?"

That was Skye's regular coffee break time, so the hour was clear of any appointments. "Looks good for me too, Tom. I'll see you then."

Skye rubbed her tight shoulders. What did he want to tell her? Why did they need to talk it over in private and not over the phone?

Without a doubt, this would be a hard case for her cousin, especially since his shot was the one that killed the man. To Skye's knowledge, Tom and his officers had never had a shoot-out during his daily work in this small town. Perhaps he just needed to talk about it.

But she wasn't sure. Skye nibbled the inside of her cheek. It seemed like there was more to this case than Tom mentioned on the phone, and he wanted her to know about it.

Four

Ohio

The next afternoon, while getting ready to meet Tom, Skye hummed to herself feeling the glow of a job well done. She had just wrapped up a session with a young girl who was making excellent progress, and that put her in a great mood.

As she made her way out of the waiting area, she stopped to talk to her assistant, Caroline. Skye’s gaze scanned her desk. The best employee Skye had ever had, Caroline had a serious attachment to an amazing array of knickknacks, all of which littered the tall reception area. Skye moved aside a small snow globe that held a miniature range of mountains with a tiny rustic cabin teetering on the top of one peak. The slogan "Mountaineers are always Free" scrolled across its midnight blue base. Skye leaned over the high counter and reminded herself that the kids loved them.

It was Caroline's usual habit to listen for Skye's arrival, to be helpful before Skye realized she needed help, but today she didn't even turn around when Skye tipped over one of her precious baubles. Caroline's eyes were glued to her computer screen.

Skye cleared her throat and said, "Caroline, I wanted to mention--" Caroline almost knocked over her chair as she clenched at her heart. Both women gave a nervous, little laugh.

"I am so sorry, Caroline!" Skye said, her own hand on her chest.

"Oh my goodness! Ms. Jackson! I apologize! I never do this. It was just... this is just so crazy!" Caroline said in a flustered rush, as she pointed to the computer screen.

"Please, Caroline, call me Skye," she reminded her again. But Caroline had returned to the monitor, and Skye talked to the back of her head. "What are you watching?"

"Just so you know, I don't surf the web while I'm working, I really don't. But my friend called at break and said I had to see this video as soon as possible. She was right. This is crazy!"

"Is it the one that happened here, right outside town?"

"What? No. Thank the Lord! This was up in Ohio."

A tingle trailed Skye's spine. "Can I watch too?"

Caroline turned the monitor so Skye could see, but she soon wished the receptionist hadn't. Skye felt the hair lift from the back of her neck, and nausea start in the pit of her stomach. "What is going on?" she murmured.

"I've never heard of anything like this except rabies, and we hear of some odd things in these hills," Caroline’s quiet, serious tone suggested how strange some of those things could be. Caroline shivered.

Her words fired up Skye's already frenzied imagination, and she had to drag her attention back to the screen. A mother cried bitter tears in the semi-blurred background. A white ambulance with blood-red striping down its side, its bright lights flashing, sat close to the camera.

Two gym-honed emergency workers with masked faces wheeled a gurney between them. A young teenage girl lay on top, restraints binding her. The bands dug into her upper arms and wrists further whitening her skin around them. It was clear she would have been dangerous without them.

The girl's long, blond hair fell in a tangled jumble over the front of the gurney as she thrashed her slim body from one side of the cot to the other. She twisted and turned trying to escape the bands that held her in place.

The girl moved with such force the small wheels of the stretcher lifted off the ground before banging back to the concrete. The paramedics strained as they rolled the gurney along the sidewalk and dodged the girl as she lunged toward first one and then the other.

A wide-eyed, freaked-out newswoman tried to hold it together as she reported the story. Her gaze darted between the camera and the girl on the stretcher as she told the news story. The girl, she stated, had been ill for a few days with cold and flu symptoms. A frantic, mother had reported a dramatic change today.

Known by all in the neighborhood to be a respectful, cheery teenager, the girl had become angry, screeching and ranting, often making no sense. As the day wore on she became physically aggressive, striking then kicking and biting her mother. As the newscaster looked over at the girl, she shuddered before droning on.

The gurney started and stopped several times as it bumped over the uneven sidewalk making its way closer to the camera. The young girl continued to thrash on the stretcher between the two paramedics, her mouth snapping open and shut, open and shut again and again. She was wild as she struggled to attack the two men.

The paramedics were now at the back the emergency vehicle, turning the gurney to enter the ambulance. For the first time, Skye could see the girl's entire face. Her hands clenched the lip of Caroline's desk.

Wild, distant eyes. Blue lips. Bloody foam spewed from her open mouth.

The girl's hands jerked against the bands that held her. Blue-tipped fingers curled inward and clenched. Her body started to convulse. The violent quaking quickened as the paramedics slid her into the ambulance.

The girl's mother followed the gurney, hands to her face, sobbing. Blood ran down her shoulders and arms from open wounds.

The girl had been vicious. These were not only bites, but large patches of torn, hanging skin.

Skye stood transfixed, her breath refusing to come. This disease which had been strange yesterday had just turned terrifying.

No! It can't be ... could it? The girl is just like the man! One would be unusual but two people with rabies in little more than twelve hours?

Skye turned away unable to watch any longer. As she moved away from Caroline's desk, the newscaster continued to report. "According to the hospital, this is the tenth case of this mysterious illness in this part of Ohio."

Skye's jaw dropped, and she stepped back. This part of Ohio? The tenth case? Where else had this 'mysterious illness' been seen?

Five

Tell Me

At two o'clock, the coffee shop was quiet as was usual this time of the day. The lunch crowd had been and gone, and it wasn't yet time for the three o'clock slump customers. When Skye stepped through the door, the gentle strum of an acoustic guitar coming from the restaurant's speaker and the fresh coffee aroma that cocooned her eased her frayed nerves.

Tom's tall, broad bulk was hard to miss as he leaned on the counter waiting for a barista to complete his order. Arms crossed and a coffee stirrer clamped between his teeth, he nodded his hello.

Skye joined him. A wave to the barista was enough to get her own order started. They knew her well. After picking up their coffees, they found a round, sun-drenched table near the large front window.

Eager for an explanation, especially after the new video, Skye leaned forward. Her elbows rested on the table as she sipped her coffee, letting the bittersweet taste linger on her tongue for a bit longer than necessary. "Tom, what's going on? Tell me. First the video from yesterday, then today I saw an alarming news report from Ohio."

Tom, though, was now reluctant to share what he had invited her here to say. He looked at the floor instead of her, slouching with his back to the window and his long arm stretched out toward his coffee sitting on the table. "Yeah, I heard about that news report," Tom said his voice low.

Skye was quiet, waiting for him to continue. If there was one thing she knew how to do well, it was to wait until someone was ready to talk.

Tom frowned, sighed and looked out the window. "Things are changing, Skye, in a big way."

Skye's eyes widened at his tone. This is serious, like really serious. A band squeezed her heart. "What do you mean?"

Tom rolled a shoulder and took a gulp of his coffee before returning his gaze to her. "This information isn't being released to the public yet. But, you’re family, I want you to know about this. This sickness, nobody seems to understand it or how it came to be. But we're being told it's out of control. A lot of people will get it."

Skye’s breathing picked up and goosebumps trailed down her arms. "Okay. A lot of people? How many is a lot?"

Tom leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Most everybody, Skye. Nothing can stop it. Most people who come into contact with it, catch it. And if you catch it, you die.

He wiped a hand across his forehead. "There are cases all across the U.S. The government has been letting on everything's okay, trying to suppress the media reports, but the news is getting out. This disease—it's not stopping. It's just gonna get worse from here on out."

Skye's coffee cup slipped in her numb, sweaty hand. A thousand random questions swirled through her mind, and she fired them at Tom. "But there is a cure, right?"

Tom looked down and tapped his cup on the table a few times. He shook his head "No, like I said, nothing can stop it."

"Are they working on a cure?"

"From what they're telling us, yeah."

"But how long... how long has the sickness been going on?" she stammered.

He scowled. "The first cases appeared about six months ago."

"Tom, the girl was foaming at the mouth! Is this, heaven forbid, some form of... rabies?" Skye's latte was not warming the chill that ran through her.

"That's one of the many rumors going around. I'm hopin not." Tom lowered his head and ran a hand through his hair.

"And they didn't warn anyone?" Skye rubbed her arms. It was hard to believe they wouldn't have done so.

"At first no, for some idiotic reason." He ground out the words. "But at last the pertinent medical community and now the cops."

"And no one knows what this is?" Her voice rose to a higher pitch. I need to calm down. I can’t let my anxiety get the best of me. Skye took a deep breath in and let it out a bit at a time.

"I think someone does, or a few someones do, but they aren't telling us."

Skye paused a moment suspecting there was more. "Why are you telling me?"

Tom lowered his gaze. His chest rose and fell a few times before he spoke.

Skye closed her eyes. Even more bad news is coming.

Tom leaned closer and lowered his voice, his pale blue eyes direct. "Because Skye, you need to get ready. There are a lot more cases out there. People who haven't come to the hospital. They're out there infecting others right now. It's airborne, so it's spreading fast. But if you avoid that, if you get bit, you're gonna get it. Infected people, any of them, are dangerous."

"Bit? You mean everyone becomes like that girl? That's what happens?"

"It's one of the things, yeah."

Skye shuddered as she remembered the news report of the girl. "Is that why you shot the man on the video?"

"Yeah, he headed straight for me. Couldn't risk him passing that on." Sympathy crept into Tom's voice. "And besides, he suffered less that way."

"How so?"

"The end's brutal, I've seen it. Once a person gets it, they're just countin days.” Tom lowered his head and shook it before looking back at Skye. “If this continues as expected, you'll have to stay in. People are gonna get crazier than an outhouse fly as this continues to get out. If a snowstorm's coming, there is a huge run on the store. You need to be ready before the panic hits. We reckon we have a year, at least another six months, before the worst of it. Get your cash out of the bank. Stock up on food and water. So if it comes to it, you won't have to leave the house. This may end up in quarantines and curfews. I just don't know."

Skye reached a hand out to Tom. It's too much, I can't deal with this.

Tom understood what was happening and squeezed Skye's hand. "I know you get anxious, but you need to be ready for anything. Anything, do you understand?"

Her other hand trembled as she gulped her tasteless latte. She stammered, "I- I wouldn't believe this, except that I know you wouldn't pull this kind of elaborate prank on me. Also, I've seen those two videos." Her gaze strayed to the busy street outside the window. Being the one major road through town, it was highly trafficked during the day. Skye wondered how many vehicles would travel it by the end of the year. "Okay, six months. We can use cloth masks to help slow the disease in the meantime, right? Surely the scientists will have discovered a cure by then!"

"Sure, masks will help some, but they aren't going to stop it." Tom frowned and repeated, "Nothing so far has worked. That is what I'm hearing. The incubation period is up to a year. So the best case is, we have a year, but we're training for the worst-case scenario, which is six months. There's no talk about a cure other than to say it's being worked on, and it's not factored into any of our training."

Skye put her head in her shaking hands. She couldn't even begin to comprehend what this might mean, probably would mean not only for her but all humankind.

No cure? There is always a cure! No, this is impossible. This kind of thing doesn’t happen in real life. This is the stuff of books and movies. The fiction you enjoy fearing while curled up with a blanket on your comfy couch. Her anxiety rose until the tinkling bell on the door, and the shop's background music filled her ears canceling out all other sounds. She pulled in a breath and released it to steady her nerves. The comforting aroma of coffee just smelled bitter.

She raised her head, her eyes asking questions that her addled mind couldn't think up yet. "Tom?"

Tom pleaded with her. "Listen. Do what I said. Do it now. I will check on you as soon as I can." Using his stern cop voice, he added, "This is happening. Skye. I know you, don't you ignore it, you hear me?"

Skye nodded yes, but her mind continued to swirl with their conversation. He gave her a hard stare, stood and patted her on the shoulder. "I will call you," he said and walked out of the coffee shop.

Skye dug her medication out of her purse and swallowed a pill. The bangle bracelets on her arm jangled. The jewelry was a reminder of all the caring people in Skye's life, each bracelet given with love and concern. Each meant something special. A gold one entwined with roses, a silver one embedded with diamonds and a simple hand-beaten copper one with the word "Strength" etched on it.

She ran her finger over the word, feeling the edges of the lettering on the smooth metal. This one was from her father. He had given it to her during a dark time in her life. "Skye, baby," he'd told her, “You're strong. Stronger than you know. You can do anything you put your mind to." It had helped her then, and it helped her now as she imagined him and his warm southern drawl saying those loving words.

Skye looked up when her phone alarm rang, reminding her of her next appointment. She grabbed her cell in one hand and her latte in the other, her heels making a sharp tap as she crossed the salmon-colored tile floor. She hurried through the glass door and rounded it, picking up her pace as she went.

Skye saw the man a moment before she ran head-on into his hard chest. Too late to stop, it jolted her almost off her feet. Skye lost her balance and took a few faltering steps as she tried to get it back, her latte splashing across her hand as she did so.

His firm, callused hands reached out and grabbed her upper arms, steadying her and lifting her a bit. Skye's feet left the ground as he put her to the side. She stood there blinking as the man continued on his way, barely breaking his stride. "Ma'am," he said as he passed her, his low voice as rugged as his hands.

Skye glimpsed broad shoulders and dark hair before the man turned the corner. "Sorry!" she called out as she rushed down the sidewalk already thinking about her next appointment. She barely registered what happened.

Six

Just Go

Dylan and Wade Cole stood emotionless at the end of a low, sterile hospital bed as the man they called father gasped his last breaths. Green paper gowns haphazardly covered the front of the men’s jeans and t-shirts.

Wade's clenched fists were stuffed deep into the pockets of his worn, faded pants. His light brown hair offset his already ruddy skin which was becoming redder as his emotions built.

Dylan held one tense muscular arm across his body; his other hand raised to his mouth as he chewed a thumbnail. His hospital mask hung uselessly down his chest. It had been years since either had spoken to their father. Didn't want to be around him then, ain't wanting to be near him now. This needs to be over.

They both stared at their father, who shook and quivered as he lay on the crisp, white sheets. The immense effort it took for him to haul in another breath of air caused the metal bed frame to rattle.

Dylan narrowed his eyes and watched as the sick man clung to what tortured life he had left. Just go. Leave. Thought it a million times. What's one more?

Dylan pressed his lips together a few times before raising a hand to rake through his dark, shaggy hair as he examined the man in the bed.

The damage done by the disease in the last two days had devastated the man. His father’s pale, ashen skin made his blue-tinted lips seem more vibrant than they were. Red-tinged foam bubbled from his mouth with each gurgled breath, trailing over his lips and down the side of his face. His limbs, taut and awkward, were almost unusable.

Dylan felt the old fire stir in the pit of his stomach. The monster he is on the inside has crept to the outside.

He gave a long audible sigh to relieve the turmoil building up and reassured himself that it was all ending now. He raised his gaze to skim over the others laying in the vast, echoing room. Ain't less than a couple hundred here.

These were the lucky ones. The virus within them would spread swiftly, killing them before the week was over. Others would last longer, much longer. Still, these Sick had overwhelmed the town's small doctor's office within days. So, the authorities had closed the school to classes and opened the gym to the ill, no matter the phase of their disease.

At the side of most beds, loved ones gathered around the Sick, gowned and masked in the same green paper. Some offered comfort to the dying while others sobbed into their hands.

Dylan dragged his eyes to his brother standing beside him and saw Wade's harsh, unrelenting gaze on his father. Stone-faced and cold, just like me. It's what he taught us. Dylan turned his own glare back to his father, who now had tears in the corner of his eyes. He shouldn't be surprised.

The nurse hurried in to check on her patient. She adjusted his IV, upping the dose of pain medication so that each drip would ease his passing.

Dylan shook his head. He don't deserve the mercy. He ain't never gave mercy to nothing or nobody his whole life.

The nurse walked up to Dylan and Wade and whispered, "It won't be long now," then briskly went to the next patient. She offered no word of comfort or sympathetic squeeze of the hand for this patient.

She knows what he is. He scanned the room, taking in the many faces turned toward his family. They all know.

After a few minutes, their father’s frantic gasping stopped. He tried to lift his hand up to his sons as if in supplication. Then his head slid on the pillow, and his eyes went blank.

The brothers looked at each other. Twin weights shifted and rose from their shoulders, easing them of a burden they'd known from the moment they were born. They each acknowledged it with only a small nod.

"It's over now," Dylan said. "After today, everything will be different."

Wade gave a slow nod. "I feel better already."

Checking other patients on her way, the nurse came back to them. As she carefully explained the restrictions placed on the medical staff by the Disease Control for the care of the dead, Wade was quick to interrupt her. "Do whatcha gotta do, it don't make no nevermind to us."

"Will you be staying?" the medical worker asked.

"No," said Wade, "we're already gone." He turned and headed to the door.

Dylan took a moment to thank the nurse for her help, then followed Wade out.

At the exit, the men peeled off the protective gowns and masks revealing their shirts, each with one too many holes. They shoved the paper into the grey plastic garbage can that stood by glass doors.

When they reached the outdoors, Wade gazed at the bright blue sky before looking at Dylan. "How long do ya think it takes to get to Hell anyways?"

Dylan let out a deep sigh as he ran a hand around his tan neck. "The way he was, I always reckoned we were already there."

They were silent as they walked to their weathered, red truck. Dylan took the worn driver's seat and fired the engine. He leaned back for a minute staring out the front windshield, so many emotions flooding through him, he didn't know which one to focus on. He gave up and sent his brother a questioning look.

Wade gave him a sharp nod. Dylan pulled out onto the road and headed for the one and only place either man had ever considered safe.

.

Seven

Seen Worse

Skye sat on her cream-colored, overstuffed couch with feet tucked under her. A large tablet lay open on her lap lighting her face. Her smooth brow creased as she searched the web for any further sign of the dreadful disease she and Tom had discussed. Skye found little about the illness. And yet Doctor Kinder says there were too many Sick in Colton for his office, and he's now at the school gym.

The Disease Control website told her the virus had a name. It was such a long one Skye couldn't tackle it, but it had a nickname—AgFlu. It included early signs of the illness, normal cold and flu symptoms, and gave warnings about its ability to advance to pneumonia at a rapid pace. People should see their doctor at once, it said, if they developed any of the early manifestations.

The article stated less than one hundred people had contracted it. Skye huffed. That’s impossible. They are downplaying this. Skye’s mind drifted back to her earlier conversation with the doctor. There had to be more than a hundred nationwide.

Skye tapped her manicured nail to her lips. There was no mention of the biting, out-of-control behavior like the man from Colton on YouTube or the young girl on the news. No new information on those two Infected, and no new victims of the disease.

But if there really are only one hundred victims, or thereabouts, and a good part of them are in Colton, maybe it isn’t as serious as they led Tom to believe. Maybe whatever precautions were taken by the authorities are working. It wouldn’t be the first time we've prepared for something bad, disease or weather, and it turned out to be nothing. If that's the case, I have no problem with that.

Skye turned off her tablet and strolled to her kitchen, opening the tall, white cabinets. I have a decent supply of food, but if this epidemic does take a swift turn, and I need to stay in—Well, not enough for that. A stop at the local market was in order, and while running errands, she would withdraw cash from the bank.

Satisfied with her plan and confident it would make Tom happy, Skye brought her hand to her mouth as she yawned and headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

The next morning, Skye made her way out to the kitchen and turned on her Keurig. While she waited for her cup to fill, she picked at a loose button on her pajamas with one hand and rubbed her eye with the other. She had never been a morning person.

Skye sipped her coffee as she turned the TV to the news. The headline was the AgFlu. The liquid in the mug she held rippled as she trembled. The overnight press had gotten their hands on information about more cases. A lot more. Skye pushed the remote's button, again and again, surfing through the networks. Whether someone leaked the details to the networks, or the Disease Control offered it, depended upon what channel Skye viewed.

The number of ill was now in the thousands. She gulped her coffee to warm the chill moving through her. The huge jump was unnerving and unprecedented, not only to Skye but also the newscasters. Their wide-eyed fear and somber voices didn’t seem faked as they talked of curfews. Skye reopened her cabinets and looked in the refrigerator, writing a food list as she did so. Definitely going to the store tonight before this gets any worse.

At noon, Skye ate her lunch to the voice of a national newscaster revealing case after case of the AgFlu. Some had a basic cold and flu, some had pneumonia, but for others, the illness took a darker turn. They harmed people.

The news made her nauseous, and she put most of her meal back into the refrigerator uneaten.

By her two o'clock coffee break, there were more developments. The shop had foregone its usual selection of soothing music for the unsettling blare of updates from a makeshift TV on the counter. It seemed a never-ending litany of more cases, more attacks.

The Disease Control now urged people to increase their hygiene. They included instructions on the proper way to wash your hands and when a person may want to wear a medical mask. A panel of self-appointed experts strongly endorsed curfews and quarantines, even for the healthy. In their opinion, it was the only way to stay safe.

Skye looked around the cozy cafe. A few people watched the TV, but most others seemed relaxed as they tapped on their phones. When she took her latte from the barista, Skye said, "What do you think about this?" as she pointed to the television.

"It'll blow over, sugar, don't you worry. We've seen worse than this. Remember H1N1? We were all supposed to die then too. I reckon we'll be just fine."

Skye gave her a weak smile. "I hope so."

"It'll be fine. We only have this TV up here because the owner is an old worrywart. Don't let it bother you none. Go on over there and drink your coffee."

Skye nodded and moved to a table near the window. She watched the people casually walking down the sidewalk, then scanned the restaurant. She saw few with the tightness around their eyes she could feel on her face. Most seemed to go about their day as cheerfully as if it were any other day. Was she being foolish, or were they?

Eight

The Bengay Standoff

When the workday was over, Skye and her rumbling stomach drove up to the local mom and pop food market. Set up as most grocery stores were in this county, the ample parking lot sat between the road and the blue block building. To Skye’s dismay, it was jam-packed. She shook her head. Should've figured.

The entire front of the store was glass with near floor to ceiling windows, each containing large posters announcing the deals of the week. Skye's gaze drifted across them as she walked in, determining if she needed any of the special items.

Skye passed below the white sign declaring the store's name, Anderson's Market, in large, block lettering. She wondered, not for the first time, about the family. She had yet to meet one Anderson in this township, and she knew without a doubt, Smith’s owned this store.

As the automatic glass door swung shut behind her, Skye came to an abrupt standstill. The store was wall-to-wall people. Over-excited voices reverberated off the walls loud enough to drown out the sound of the canned country music that played in the background. Wide-eyed neighbors and friends grabbed food off shelves faster than it was going back on. Lines at the checkout snaked to the back of the store.

Skye’s mouth dropped open. I expected crazy, but not this crazy. The rumbling screech of buggies needing oil alerted her to the fact that one lone cart with a bent wheel was all that stood waiting for use. The good ones were long gone. When Skye felt the air stir behind her as the automatic door opened again with new customers, she moved toward it. Better a bad buggy than none at all.

She pushed her cart through the aisles and shook her head while people piled one, or more, buggies with several boxes of the same item. It was just as out of control as Tom had warned it would be.

When Skye found herself adding rice mix after rice mix to her cart, she stopped and moved on. When she took a third peanut butter off the shelf, she caught the sad-eyed gaze of a little girl sitting in the cart next to hers. She handed it to the girl instead, then eyed the few remaining on the shelf. Skye threw out her hand and grabbed one, feeling a sense of security when her hand came around the smooth plastic jar. She shoved her buggy on down the aisle and rolled her eyes at herself. I have to stop this. I’m just getting caught up in the chaos, it's not like they’re going to stop making food.

Skye rounded the end-cap and entered the medical aisle, threading her cart around a few others. She added a few boxes of band-aids and medications to her increasing pile. Then stopped short before running into an old woman standing in the aisle and staring at the shelves.

It was Mrs. McCleary. Skye’s neighbor stood there, distress written all over her body. Her white hair in a bun, and as immaculate as always, the woman turned her wide gaze to Skye, her trembling, blue-veined hands covering her mouth.

"Mrs. McCleary," Skye asked as she rushed to her, "what is wrong? Can I help you?"

“Oh, my dear,” her voice sounded more shaky than usual, “There is not a single tube of Bengay left on the shelf! I can’t sleep without first putting it on my shoulders. I have such trouble with them, you know.”

Skye did know. Mrs. McCleary loved to bake, often sharing it with Skye and the rest of her neighbors, but when bad weather came, so did the woman’s arthritis. Delicious baked goods never made their way to Skye on those days.

Skye checked the shelf where the product should have sat, then the racks surrounding it and behind the few items still scattered on the shelf. There was no Bengay. Skye nibbled the inside of her cheek as she looked over the products to see if there was anything similar. There was nothing.

She reached into her own buggy and picked up a box of Tylenol and Motrin. “Here take these. They will help, won’t they?”

“Yes, they do, dear. Thank you. But I still need my Bengay.”

Skye turned to a harried-looking employee racing through the aisle full of customers as fast as they allowed him. She raised her arm to flag him down. “Excuse me. Excuse me!”

“Yeah?” Arms full of product, he pivoted, irritated by the interruption. He had fallen behind in his work long ago.

Skye kept it short and sweet given his exasperated manner. “Bengay. Do you have any in the back?”

“No, lady. We brought out all the meds this morning. All we got is what you see.”

Mrs. McCleary gasped at the news. "I'll never sleep now! I only have one super-size Ultra Strength left!"

The stock boy took in her obvious distress, and his eye's filled with pity. He grunted, then aid in a somewhat reluctant voice, "I have a grandma too." He nodded his head at a customer further up the row, he said, "That guy grabbed the last ones. Like a lot of ‘em. See if he’ll give you one."

"Thank you," Skye said to the young man as he scurried off.

Wide-eyed, Mrs. McCleary looked from Skye to the boy and back. Skye thought of all the times her neighbor had checked on her and brought her goodies. This was the least she could do, the woman was in real distress.

“Can you watch my buggy?” Skye asked Mrs. McCleary.

Mrs. McCleary beamed at Skye. “I sure can. Thank you, Skye. I knew I could count on you.”

Skye gave Mrs. McCleary a weak smile. A knot formed in her stomach over any possible confrontation, and she hoped this went well as she wound her way through customers and carts. With careful steps, she wiggled past two well-built men in worn jeans and t-shirts. She didn't want to stumble into them as she avoided the rest of the crowd. She mumbled “Sorry” as she stepped on the foot of one when she sidled past with her back to them. Skye scanned the items in their buggy as she did, but did not see a single Bengay tube among them.

The short, thin man in front of them, however, had at least thirty tubes, let alone patches and gel. Skye stopped and glanced from his cart to him and back with a look that said, “Really?”

The man scowled. “What?”

Skye rearranged her facial expression. Her current one wouldn’t get her anywhere with him. She forced a neighborly smile and introduced herself, pointing out Mrs. McCleary.

“Yeah, so.”

“Mrs. McCleary is an old, arthritic lady and a regular Bengay user. There are no tubes of the medicine left, and she is very distressed.”

“Sorry to hear that,” the man said and turned away, making no moves to offer her one of the many that littered his basket.

Skye took a step closer to him. “Would you be willing to give her a tube of yours?”

“No.”

Skye pressed her lips together and stared at the ground before looking back at him. “She is an old woman. She is almost crying out of her concern that she won't be able to sleep at night.”

“Sorry, I have old people too.”

“One tube, that’s all I’m asking. Surely, we can come to some kind of arrangement.”

The man stilled as greed lit up his eyes. “How much are we talkin?”

Skye pointed to a large tube and made an offer she felt was exceedingly generous. “Twenty bucks.”

He uttered a low sound of indecision as he looked Skye over. Deciding she could afford more, he said, “Fifty.”

“Fifty?” Skye squeaked. “That is crazy.”

“If you don’t want it.” The man nudged his cart away.

Skye grabbed hold of the cool metal. “Wait! Wait. Thirty.”

“Nope.”

Skye smacked her hand down on the side of his buggy as she looked back at Mrs. McCleary. The old woman's face was fierce as she defended Skye’s items from someone trying to poach her band-aids. She closed her eyes. How can I not get this medicine for her?

Skye opened her eyes and flicked a glance at the physique of the two brawny men behind her. At least, I’m not dealing with them.

She plunged a hand into her purse and pulled out the money. “Here. Fifty.”

A neighboring customer yelled, “Hey lady, do I got anything you want?”

Oh, great! What have I started?

Apparently feeling fifty was too easy for her, the small man with the Bengay said, “Changed my mind. It’s sixty now.”

Skye steamed as she reached toward her purse to pull another ten before he demanded more money. Before she could, a large hand blocked the line of sight to her bag.

“Stop.” A deep voice rumbled from the t-shirt clad chest a few inches from her face. Before her eyes made it to his face, one box of Bengay came flying at her, then another. She fumbled, then caught them.

When the little man protested, her defender stated, “That ain't how we do things here. Never has been, never will be.”

As some of the customers applauded them, Skye’s protector and his sidekick pushed their way past the hoarder of topical pain relief before she could thank them. Skye watched the back of the dark-haired one as he walked away and wondered why his muscled body looked familiar.

"Thank you!" Skye yelled after them.

She sighed as she took the medicine to Mrs. McCleary. After seeing the size of Skye's rescuers, the woman trying to steal the Band-Aids from her cart dropped them back in and stepped away.

Mrs. McCleary's eyes were alight. “Good to have friends like that at times like these.”

“Oh, they aren’t my friends. I don’t know them.”

“That's interesting because they know you.”

Skye looked back at them. “I don’t think so.”

“I do. Mrs. Jones said they asked about you.” A woman behind Mrs. McCleary vigorously nodded her head.

“About me? Mrs. McCleary, I think you're confused, I’ve never seen those men before in my life.”

“I’m not confused, young lady. And let me just say, if things get half as bad as the news claims, you might want to cozy up to one of them boys.”

“Mrs. McCleary! Saying such things after I was so nice to you.”

"Um, well. I'm old enough to know a good, bad boy when I see one." The old woman folded her arms. "You’ll see."

Skye skimmed the crowded front end of the store and found the two men. She watched their backs as they loaded their items on the conveyor belt but neither one turned around so she could get a glimpse of their faces. When she looked at Mrs. McCleary, the woman’s light-blue eyes were twinkling.

Skye humphed. “I don’t like bad boys, even good ones.”

Mrs. McCleary let out a short bark of a laugh. “That’s what we all tell ourselves, dear.”

Nine

Mighta Coulda

Dylan stood at the edge of the mountain overlook, his arms crossed as he gazed on the town of Colton far below him. Where he stood the ground was a bare, rocky piece of land that was a sharp contrast to the thick woods beside it.

Scraggly bunches of green weeds pushed their way up through the hard dirt, bowing their heads when the wind kicked up as it often did this time of day. The trail to the cliff started near the cabin he shared with his brother and ran through the forest to where he stood.

Dylan raised his face to the breeze, enjoying the feel as it raced across his bare skin. The gust buffeted the back of his old t-shirt before calming down. To him, the wind was the only thing that seemed to have true freedom, rushing at will from the valleys to the hills, stirring grasses and clouds alike.

But it comes up empty, like me.

Dylan looked down at Colton. It was something he now often did. He didn’t know why--not for sure--but the town drew him. He wished he belonged there, or somewhere, but he'd burnt a lot of bridges. For so long, he'd chased freedom. Now he wanted more. He scoffed at himself.

More of what? More like today? What are people thinkin?

He wondered how many times he'd had the same thought. Dylan's friends believed he had an amazing ability to read others, but not Dylan. He often felt people were a mystery to him, which struck him as odd, being as he was one. One ought to know one's own kind.

Dylan crouched, sitting on his heels and picked up a stone, weighed it in his hand and threw it down the side of the mountain. It made a couple sharp ticks on the rock below as it fell, then nothing. The thought he'd been shoving down all day worked its way to his mind.

I saw her today.

Stop. Think about something else, anything else. Wade knows what he’s talking about. She ain't for me. Yeah, think of Wade, Wade going off on his tangent.

After being closed up in that store with all those people, Wade had been downright irritable.

When his brother got riled up, one was never sure what kind of crazy would come out. Dylan chuckled. Wade got worked up most days. And if Wade was in trouble, it was often his words that got him there.

They’d gone down the mountain for a few supplies and to see what all the hubbub was about. That’s what old man Larson called it. Hubbub.

The old guy had seen people raiding stores in Fenton on TV, and he wanted to know how bad it was here in Colton. It seemed things were falling apart as this disease spread.

Larson was a curious man. To satisfy that curiosity, he’d walked, cane and all, the good mile or so to the Cole’s cabin and asked the brothers if they’d mind seeing what all the fuss was about. Dylan and Wade agreed to go and get him some groceries too.

How a man like himself got roped into these situations baffled Dylan, but Larson had hobbled all the way over. And though the Coles weren’t sure exactly how old the man was, they both agreed he looked at least a hundred and one. So, they had to go.

The brothers scrounged up enough money for each of them to have a hamburger at McDonald’s. They later slumped in a booth biting into hot, greasy burgers while entertained by a drunken Frankie Bailey trying to cross the busy street. They'd snorted and scoffed. Wade had even let out a few loud hoots. The comedy ended when a kid ran up and tried to help him.

“You think that’s Frankie’s boy? I heard he had a couple kids,” Wade said as he chomped on his sandwich.

“Might could be.” Dylan's eyes stayed glued to the youngster, watching as the boy did his best to aid his father despite his old man’s efforts to swat him off.

“Wonder if Frankie whales on him, the way Frankie's dad used to—” Wade stopped as Frankie backhanded the young man in the face.

Both men automatically grunted their disapproval, each remembering the harsh smack of a man's hand on their own young faces. Wade shook his head. “I reckon so.”

Dylan's head jerked back as if he had been the one slapped. He looked at the ground, across the street, at the coffee shop—anywhere to ignore what was happening in front of him, to ignore the stone gathering weight in his stomach and the flame igniting in his chest.

But without permission, Dylan's troubled gaze strayed back to Frankie and his son. The young man pulled at his father, trying to get him away from the rushing vehicles. Frankie teetered on the edge of the sidewalk, ready to fall into the oncoming traffic.

A few horns blared startling the drunk man. Frankie jerked his arm from the boy’s grasp and pushed him hard, hard enough the boy fell and came back up holding a bleeding head.

Dylan bolted to his feet.

“Sit down, Brother,” Wade said, “you can’t do nothing about that, and you know it.”

Dylan threw out his arm toward the scene playing out in front of them. “That’s the problem. No one ever does anything about that.”

Wade compressed his lips and sucked the bottom one in. “It is what it is. Ain’t nothin we haven’t been through.”

“I’m gonna talk to him.”

“Frankie?”

Dylan scraped his foot against the floor and gathered his hands into fists. “Yeah.”

“I know what you're fixing to do, and it ain't talking. Since when have you and Frankie ever talked about anything. Fight more likely. That’s gonna get you a few days in jail again, and nothin’ll change. It ain’t even worth the walk across the street.”

Dylan disagreed. The boy was worth the walk. Letting the boy see someone willing to stand up for him—that alone was worth it.

Dylan took a step toward the door just as a police car pulled up alongside Frankie and his son. The officer waved the young man into the front of the vehicle, put Frankie in the back, then drove off.

Dylan dropped into his seat and ripped another chunk off his hamburger.

Wade glanced at him. “See, all taken care of and you didn’t have to lift a finger.”

Dylan grunted. He wouldn’t have minded a little jail time if he’d gotten to smash Frankie in the face.

There had been an ongoing fight between Dylan and Frankie since their kindergarten days. Frankie was an idiot then, he was an idiot now. Dylan couldn't abide idiots.

It was then Wade’s mouth got him into trouble. The TV blared the latest on the virus. The good citizens of Colton, children and all, hung breathlessly onto every word. Wade chose that time to blurt out, “This flu may do us all a favor. Clean this world out. It could lose a good portion of people and still do just fine.”

If Wade had a normal voice, it would have only reached Dylan, especially given the excessive volume of the TV, and the fact that no customers were sitting at the tables near them. But Wade often used what people called their outside voice when he was inside. His words boomed to every corner of the restaurant.

Dylan could almost hear the whip of every head as it turned toward them. He groaned. If they didn’t leave now, they’d ask them to go.

Dylan picked up the final bit of his hamburger and walked to the door. He held it open for his brother, he said, “Wade, do you think just once I could finish my meal before you go riling up the townsfolk?”

Wade looked around the dining area and took in the scowls facing him. He mumbled, "I ain't saying nothin but the truth." When Wade turned toward his audience to say more, Dylan shoved him out the door.

The fact was, it was easy enough for the Coles to rile people up. The Cole family, in most of the town's opinion, had been one long line of trouble for generations now. Virgil, their father, had lived a dark life, and as far as most of the folks were concerned, Wade and Dylan weren’t much better. Those that didn’t look down on them usually feared them. Some people did both.

After leaving McDonald’s, the Cole brothers headed to Smith's, or Anderson's, if you trusted the sign. They didn’t.

As they walked out of the market, Dylan knew if he was being honest with himself, he had to admit that Wade just might be right. Frankie and a few others could go. Trouble was the disease wasn’t letting them pick, and more often than not, the good people were the ones lost.

The little jackass in the grocery store could go. Anyone who would take advantage of those around him—they can go.

Dylan had no choice but to stop him. If the fool got away with that, then others would try it. People helped each other here—that’s what they did. The way he’d helped Skye.

Dylan shook his head at himself. It always comes back around to her anymore.

Unsure why, Dylan nevertheless felt the weight within him lighten as it always did whenever his mind turned to her.

She's a good woman, ready to plunk that kinda of money down for her friend.

The wind blew a little harder, lifting his dark hair off the back of his neck as he let his mind linger on her.

Ten

A Sigh of Relief

Tom sighed as he set down the receiver of the orange phone hanging on the wall of their kitchen. He turned to his wife. Tom had known from Skye’s blank face when he left the coffee shop, she hadn’t grasped the immediate threat of the situation. He and Tricia had been ready weeks ago. In his opinion, Skye dragged her feet at his every instruction.

Skye had drunk in every word of his advice when she had moved to Colton, West Virginia from Ohio for a fresh start. He'd been happy to provide it and taken pride in using his connections to help her get a practice up and running.

Tom and Tricia were born and raised in this town, and if they had nothing else, they had connections. Tricia's tender heart and whimsical nature drew people to her like bees to honey. She often gave Skye the answers she needed to the history of the townsfolk. And Tom, in his capacity as Sheriff, often worked with Skye through official channels.

Tom's practical, no-nonsense nature was offended by Skye's inability to see what was right in front of her. Whether it was her anxiety or the famous Jackson stubbornness, he felt like he wasn't getting anywhere.

It's like slapping a brick wall. Like Skye doesn't hear me anymore, or I'm the one that's lost all good sense. How am I supposed to help her if she won't listen to a lick of what I say?

Tom looked back at his wife. "Skye still isn't getting it. She thinks there's gonna be a cure."

"She ain't the only one. There's plenty more like her." Tricia’s accent was more colorful than Tom’s. She'd grown up on the mountain, not far from the Coles and the Baileys. At least, not far in mountain terms.

At home, she could be herself even if she had begrudgingly suppressed her musical way of speaking while at college, and during her business endeavors to avoid some harsh teasing.

Tricia took her husband's hand in hers. “Sugar, you know she can’t help herself. She's afeared. Her anxiety's always got her running from where she needs to be looking. She got the things you told her to get. Skye's done what you said needed doin. She’ll get it when she needs to get it. Push comes to shove, the girl always womans up, don't you worry yourself none.”

"Barely! She does just enough so as I won't be after her is all, not cause she sees the need. On top of that, she's still got clients! Skye's in her office, breathing the same air as people that could be Sick or Infected." Tom shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. "She's takin too much risk."

"Skye's worried about them." Tricia's voice was calm as she explained, "Those young'uns depend on her, and she don't want to let them down. You know how bad off some of them are. She's the only sane thing they've got."

As Tom's anxiety rose his voice became sterner. "I know, but she needs to stop. She can't help anyone if she gets sick." He grimaced at the thought of Skye with the AgFlu.

"I'm gonna see her tomorrow. I'll ask her to take a little break 'til we see how this all sorts out. I'll let her know you're worried about her." Tricia gave Tom's hand a little squeeze as she said, "Right now, I need to get some dinner on." She patted his hand, then let go.

As Tricia turned to the stove, the long, red hair cascading down her back shifted. It caught the light and glowed, a sight Tom never tired of. His heart constricted. He worried that the horrors he witnessed outside this house would one day invade it. He prayed the love of his life would survive when it happened.

The next day, Tricia stirred a large pot of soup as she waited for Skye to arrive. On a normal day, the two women met for lunch at one of the local restaurants, but Tom had nixed all public appearances for Tricia for the near future. So instead, Tricia asked Skye over for a homemade lunch.

Tricia hadn’t taken offense at Tom’s orders for her to stay put. She was happy to stay safe and sound in her house. Tom let her know what was going on outside these walls, and she wasn't in any hurry to see it herself. The thought of Sick people on every corner not only saddened but also frightened her.

A few days ago, Tricia closed the doors to all three of her successful Appalachian Gift Shops, hoping it wouldn't be permanent. While she was still trying to run the online store, the AgFlu had brought sales to a standstill. She worried that the business she built from the ground up would never again open.

Focusing on today, Tricia hummed to herself and tasted the steaming soup she cooked. When she shook in a little more spice, the deep scent of thyme, basil and oregano filled the room. Technically soup, she added so many extra root vegetables, it bordered on, if not crossed the line to a stew. Just right. Skye's gonna want the recipe for this one.

A sniff of the baking biscuits and a quick glance into the oven told her they were coming right along too. She'd already laid out the table, now she added farm fresh butter and her own homemade strawberry jam.

Tricia brightened when she heard Skye's car coming up the drive and hurried to wash her hands before greeting her.

* * *

Skye walked in and gave Tricia a smile and a tight hug. The delicious aroma from the kitchen enveloped her. Not only was Tricia an excellent cook, but to Skye's taste, her kitchen was almost perfect.

The restful room made her feel as if she'd stepped back in time 100 years, not in a cheap, phony way, but in a real wood and stone way and with updated appliances. On three of the walls, stained medium-grained wood cabinets spanned almost floor to ceiling against a beige painted background. Some cupboard doors were solid wood while others were thick-paned glass. The fourth wall, made of large rocks, held a large fireplace that Tom helped build. From the beamed ceiling in one corner, Tricia had even hung the obligatory herbs that dried on strings.

"It smells amazing, Tricia! And I am starving," Skye said after walking over to the bubbling soup pot and giving it a stir, "Mm-mm."

Tricia lit up and thanked her. Both women finished carrying the food over to the table, and after serving, Tricia sat and asked how Skye's day had gone so far.

Skye had sunk her teeth into one of Tricia's extra fluffy Angel Biscuits loaded with butter. She nodded and took a minute to enjoy the golden goodness, closing her eyes and sighing in pleasure before answering Tricia.

"Pretty good until now. I planned on a long lunch with you, then going back to work at my office in town. But my afternoon appointments have all canceled." Skye fretted as she picked at her nails. "I'm worried they are Sick."

"Have there been a lot of cancelations from AgFlu?"

Skye rolled her eyes. AgFlu short for Aggressive Influenza. "I hate the stupid name the Disease Control has given it! Like it is just another contagious strain of flu, so they don't panic people.”

"Tom says they're technically doin everything right with all their announcements. They tell us about precautions and what to do if you catch it, but they sure don't get to the point," Tricia said. "The point being your family's gonna die if you don't get medical help. And medical help being quarantine away from your family." She waved her hand in irritation. "They're so afraid of a media backlash over a real quarantine they give a weak message. That may be helpin the panic, but it sure isn't helpin to slow the disease."

"The news talked about a cure again as I was driving over here."

"Pfft. From Atlantis? People have gone plum crazy."

"I don't think it is literally Atlantis. It's just a name they use. But it's a cure."

"So they claim. Maybe they just let people talk, so we keep our minds busy with something else 'sides dying."

"Maybe," Skye swallowed a spoonful of soup. "I noticed most people are still out and about almost as much as before." She frowned, realizing it hadn't stopped her from her daily routine. "But some are staying in. Perhaps that's where my kids are."

"Better that then being sick with the AgFlu."

"If they are, I only hope they're getting the medical attention they need. Some families have little money, and some are, well, rather private about their business. I hope they're at least keeping the Sick away from the healthy. I've tried calling them all, some I got through to and others I didn't."

"Some reckon they or their young'uns will get exposed to the sickness in the Doc's office if they don't already have it."

Skye grimaced and nodded. "I'd feel the same way, but it's a necessary risk."

"I saw a line out the door of the Doc's last week. It’s overflowed his office, so Tom and his men have been helping move all the AgFlu patients into the school gym. Hopefully, more are going to Doc than we know." Tricia shot a look at Skye. "Tom said you went to the grocery store last night?"

Skye threw up her hands. "Yes, it was crazy! Someone took all the Bengay and wanted to sell me one for sixty dollars."

Tricia’s brow creased. "You use Bengay?"

Skye laughed. "No. Mrs. McCleary was there, and she needed it. I was helping her out."

"That's why everyone takes a liking to you, Skye.”

Skye blushed and put a hand to her cheek. "Oh, stop. It wasn't that big of a deal, besides helping others is part of my job. What kind of person would I be if I only helped people when I was on the clock? Anyway, I enjoy it. And I would like to help you by saying," Skye laughed and wagged her finger at Tricia, "get to the store sooner rather than later."

Tricia giggled. Then became serious as she leaned forward and took a deep breath before beginning her appeal. If she was going to say something to her cousin-in-law, now was the time to do it. "Skye, Tom's so worried about you keeping on with your sessions. Things are gettin crazy. Look at all our friends getting ill. Any of those young'uns could be ill and then where would you be?"

"But Tricia, my kids need me," Skye leaned back in her chair. "Some of them count so much on their treatment. I can't disappoint them."

Tricia hunted for the right words then kept it plain and simple. "It's just so dangerous."

"Tricia, I can't stop the appointments, not yet. There will be a vaccine soon, right? I mean, there has to be. And the number of people getting Infected has leveled off."

"I hope so, but Tom says they’re lying, that it's gettin worse. We want you safe, Skye. You're family." Tricia gave her a warm smile and reached forward to touch Skye on the forearm.

"I know, you're right. I'll figure out something." Skye made a face. I guess it's time to wear the medical masks during consultations. Tom's head would probably pop right off if he knew I wasn't.

Tricia changed the subject. "I saw Jesse a few days ago in town. He seemed on his way to school."

Now Tricia had Skye's attention. With the threat of the AgFlu, Jesse's case had been, and his court-mandated sessions had ended. Skye had done everything she could, but against her advice, the court had sent Jesse home to his father.

Skye often worried about him and wondered how the boy was faring. She'd asked Tricia several times if she knew anything about Jesse since he and his dad lived close to her parents. They had always tried to keep an eye out for Jesse when possible.

Skye let out a sigh of relief at Tricia’s news. "Oh, good! How did he look?"

"Okay. Coulda used a bit more spit and polish, but he seemed okay," Tricia said.

Some of the tension left Skye's shoulders. "Have you heard anything? Or your parents?"

Tricia shook her head. "Not too much. If anything untoward is going on, Frankie and Jesse are keeping it quiet. Maybe Frankie is trying to make a go of it this time."

She let the news sink in. Skye would be so happy if Frankie made some progress, any kind of progress. "I hope so, I really do."

Eleven

A Good Day after All

Jesse whistled as he walked the shortcut home from a friend's house. He was happy that school was closed for a while even if it was because of the AgFlu. He spied the white clapboard of his house as it became visible through the thicket of trees. His eyes darted around the yard looking for any sign of his father. Nothing but grass and trees. He tried to shrug off his worry.

Things have been kinda good lately. Jesse thought kinda because he knew he didn't want to get his hopes up. Though he was young, he already knew life could go bad very easily. Jesse pressed his lips together. That was one important lesson he'd learned at an early age. Don't plan on a good day; it's more likely it won't be.

But Ms. Jackson said if you do the steps, they work. I been doin the steps and things been working. Maybe, just maybe...

He lifted his chin as he came through the woods into the clearing where his house stood. It was a shack, and he knew it. That's why he had no friends over to his house.

As if I would bring any friends around before with Dad like he was.

Jesse kicked through the garbage sitting in the yard, unsure of how long it had been there. The food had rotted away, but there were still cans and plastic lying around that he had to weave his way through. He started up what once may have been a sidewalk. It had somehow disappeared and was now little more than a dirt-covered trail leading to the house.

Mid-step, a heavy bang sounded as if someone hit something. Like a startled deer, Jesse’s muscles tensed. His heart raced as fast as a rabbit he'd once caught in the woods. He came to a sudden halt. Loud noises were not good in his world. They meant anger and trouble, very probably, waiting for him.

The boy crouched. He waited a minute or two before he took small, cautious steps forward and stopped. He heard another bang, a few rattling sounds, and a few choice curse words. A bead of sweat slid along the side of his face.

Next, the grinding, rattle of a glass bottle as it bumped across the uneven, wooden floor inside his house. Then silence.

In an instant, his whole body drew inward, an automatic gesture preparing him for what was to come. A roar of anger, the slurring words of a drunk father.

But there was nothing, no sound at all.

I hope he passed out.

Jesse debated running for it. Instead, he crept closer to the half-opened front door to see what he was in for if he came home at all today. If he was careful enough, he could peek through without being seen.

Almost there. One more step was all Jesse had left. Moving without a sound became his only thought. Quiet as he could, Jesse lifted his foot and set it down to the ground. At last, he was where he needed to be, at the beat-up front entry.

Inch by inch, Jesse tipped his head forward to peer around the corner. His mouth dropped open in surprise.

Is he... cleaning?

Jesse watched his dad load a garbage bag with stuff, junk really, from the floor. It was something he’d never seen him do.

Frankie turned and saw Jesse peeking through the door. He grimaced at the sight of his frightened son and rubbed his shirt sleeve over his misty eyes. "Quit skulkin around, boy. Come over here and help your old man out. We need to sort through this stuff and see what I should be keeping."

Jesse sagged against the door frame in relief. If he is callin me boy, instead of something else, he's in a good mood.

His father's request was every bit as surprising, if not more so, than his high spirits. Jesse had always thought of the floor junk as garbage. He’d never considered that someone might actually want to keep any of it.

The boy gave a ghost of a smile and headed over to help his father. As Jesse got close, Frankie reached out a hand and clamped it on Jesse's shoulder. Jesse froze and held his breath.

Frankie's voice broke when he said, "This kinda life isn't what I wanted for you, Jesse. I’m stayin off the liquor for sure this time.

Jesse looked at the floor and nodded his head hoping for the best. But at least today is good, a good day after all.

Twelve

The Sick

Skye ripped off her white surgical mask and threw it on her desk before her client was out the door. Two weeks now using these stupid masks for sessions, I hate them and so do the kids! Not that I have that many patients still coming to therapy anymore.

Even though the number of new Sick continued to slow, things got worse. People were out of control, Sick or not, with the police force stretched to its limits. Skye wondered if it would ever stop spinning out of control. She always put her trust in the system, told her kids to do so and their parents as well. Sure, it was flawed, but it was the best hope they had, the only hope really.

So that's what she'd been trying to do as the chaos raged around her. Believe the bulletins meant to calm the public, accept that things might get worse before they got better, and wait for a cure.

There was always a cure. There is a scare and then a cure, just in time. In movies and real life. How many times has the news warned its viewers about the latest medical alarm, only to have it end up being nothing? This one is taking longer, but it will be the same as the rest, I’m sure of it.

At least that's what she told herself when she wasn't worrying that most of what the Disease Control was spouting was propaganda. But just like the kids she treated, there was only one lifeboat in which to jump. She had jumped, and she was hanging on tight.

Still, Skye was dreading tomorrow's trip to her city office. Though there were more clients there, the hour commute to Fenton was getting more and more dangerous. On her last visit, the traffic appeared lighter than usual, but more of the Sick had been wandering along the highway.

She still wondered who was supposed to be taking care of them? It was hard to believe that things were broken to the point where disoriented patients were just walking around in this state.

A jolt had gone through her the first time she saw ill people meandering the streets. A quick call to 911 had reported their whereabouts so they would get help, but her sadness over the situation lingered.

This morning the traffic had zipped by the Sick, the near-misses making her gasp. When she dialed 911, she got a recorded message explaining their inability to help her. She hated that what was once a rare and startling sight had become commonplace, even she was getting used to it.

Last night's news told of a society in turmoil. Crowds held demonstrations for the Infected’s rights. They said it oppressed people to keep them in quarantine away from their family. Riots on the South side of the city started a ferocious fire that lit up the skies for over three days. Now that side of Fenton had disappeared.

The President had given broadcasts every night for over two weeks to help reassure the people. Now, he seemed to be gone. He hadn’t been seen by the media for at least four days. Was he ill?

On top of all that, there was a sharp uptick in assaults, robberies, and muggings. As if people didn't have enough to deal with.

Skye could feel herself getting wound tighter and tighter. She felt like this would be about more than the sickness. It was the beginning of something else, and she was desperately afraid of what that would be.

For now, she was taking one day at a time, hoping it would all turn around and be, if not the same as before, something like it.

Well, I am done today at 12:30. Yippee, Skye’s thoughts turned sarcastic. So many short workdays and friendless evenings made for some long stretches of time to fill. Reading and Netflixing her hours away should have been a dream come true. But when those were the only activities available it became old real quick, and now the blackouts started.

The rolling blackouts meant she needed to do everything when the power was on, no matter what time that was. So when the lights came on at 3 am, with bleary eyes, Skye woke to vacuum, do laundry, start the dishwasher and cook food. This was also the only time to plug-in all electrical devices so she could use them later. And if the electricity turned on when she was at work, she was flat-out of luck.

The lack of power put Skye on edge, not so much because of the inconvenience, but because it meant a massive employee absence. Many of the utility companies called on any healthy people able to come help during this crisis, and still there weren't enough workers to stop the blackouts.

Who will be left when this is all over?

Once home, Skye put her keys and purse on the hall table and stood for a minute soaking in the absolute silence around her. A silence that was becoming oppressive and eerie. Skye missed the usual squeals and giggles of neighborhood children playing. They were gone.

Today the only sound was the wind rushing through the trees and an occasional car passing by. The houses closest to Skye were empty. Some neighbors had gotten ill, and some had stopped by before they left town to stay with family until this was over.

Maybe I should just pack up and go to Mom and Dad's for a while. At least, I would have people around me. If this keeps up and I don't go to work... well, that would be very lonely.

It had been an ongoing topic between Skye and her parents. They wanted her with them, but the five-hour drive concerned them. Until today, Skye hadn't thought it possible because of her job. But now with her work ending, going to her parents was something she could do. She could phone the neighbors who were left and ask if any were making the trip up north, perhaps she could follow them.

Skye reminded herself to give her parents a call tonight and see how they were doing. She checked the battery on her cell. So far, the service had been much better than she expected, and she was grateful she could keep up with friends and family.

She headed to the kitchen and looked through the cupboards.

Nothing, not much and nada. Ugh! Which is pretty much what the stores have, but I should have stopped and checked if they had gotten any shipments in. And if any of it was left.

It had been harder to get food from the grocery store. People snapped up whatever was available even if they didn't need it, and she was sure there were people out there with boatloads of food.

Whatever Skye managed to bring home seemed to go so quick even though she tried to watch. She opened the cupboard that held her emergency supplies.

Another night getting into this. It's slim pickings in here too. I'll check a store closer to the city, more supplies may have arrived in that area.

The idea frightened her. It was one thing driving through all that chaos and quite another to stop and hang out there.

Seven days, it has taken me to get up the courage to look for groceries. Seven days. But between avoiding anyone who looked ill and watching out for those causing trouble, shopping just wasn't what it used to be.

Tom had stopped and given her two bags of food that Tricia had scraped together for her, getting Skye through a few more days. Tricia had also sent over some of her homemade biscuits, still warm from the oven. A blue and white handmade card sat by the dish. It said: "To everything, there is a season. We have to go through the bad days to get to the good ones. Hang in there!" Skye had almost lost it. Tears flooding her eyes and she wrote out a thank you note for Tom to take back to her. Skye joked with Tom that only Tricia could come up with an appropriate Thinking of You during the Apocalypse card.

Tom gave her all the stern obligatory cop warnings along with a few personal cautions he liked to throw in. Skye stood and listened with bowed head, nodding at all the right times. But he didn’t need to concern himself, this disaster was sinking in.

Every day brought news of work shutdowns, riots, robberies, and chaos. People were scared, and when people were frightened, especially with nothing to do, some of those people will do stupid things. Skye laughed to herself. I went to school for years to learn that little tidbit.

Skye had two last appointments in the city today. Then everything was on pause until the AgFlu was over. She wasn't concerned about the office itself. It had only been a few days since her last trip there, and the building had still been over half-full of workers.

The traffic was lighter than usual as Skye drove to Fenton. But when she arrived, the tall, windowed office building was quieter than she had expected.

Skye enjoyed the afternoon with her young clients. Once again, she assured them, when this was all over, they would start up their sessions again. In the meantime, she promised phone calls to those that wanted them.

With final appointments done and goodbyes to her kids said, Skye headed out of her office. As she walked to the elevator, the only sound was the sharp strike of her heels echoing off the shiny, beige floor and taupe hallway walls. It felt eerie. When Skye pushed the button for the elevator, goosebumps raised on her arm.

Images from news reports flashed through her mind. She looked to her right and left as far as she could in the shadowed hallway.

Nobody. Stop it! You are just scaring yourself over nothing.

She pushed the button again, thinking the elevator seemed to be creeping. At last, the doors creaked open. Have they always screeched like that?

Skye jumped into the elevator and pushed Floor 1. Then hit the Door Closed button over and over until they shut. As the elevator descended, she sagged against the back wall in relief.

Skye exited the elevators and burst out of the front door of the building, heading straight for her car. The usually busy street was almost deserted. Only a small group of people gathered at the end of the block.

Intent on her goal, she would have paid them no mind except for a movement she caught out of the corner of her eye.

Skye turned her head ever so slightly to see them better. They were behaving oddly. The men and women huddled together. It wasn’t normal. Most people kept their distance from one another nowadays.

They exchanged whispers, whispers she couldn't hear. They murmured as if worried someone would overhear, but no one was there to eavesdrop. Their behavior was strange, more than strange, it was bizarre.

The uneasiness that started in the hallway was building. Skye's stomach tensed and goosebumps again swept up her arm.

Skye glanced the group’s way just as one man looked over at her. He turned and said something to the group. All eyes shifted to her.

Her heart rate fired up as she gauged the distance to her car. Parked across the street. To the left. Toward the weird people on the corner.

Skye looked up and down the street again. No businesses were open. No one else was on the sidewalk, and no cars were coming. She was alone. A chill ran up her spine.

You're scaring yourself again. Over nothing. The group probably have a perfectly legitimate reason for being there. Weird people can have reasons too. It's more likely, they're wondering what I am doing here.

She took a deep breath, stepped onto the street, and with a brisk walk, started toward her car. One of them called out to her. She didn't make out what they said. Skye made the mistake of glancing at them again.

Great! Now I have to acknowledge them.

She gave a half smile and a nod but continued walking. A different one yelled saying, "Are you Infected?" Skye shook her head.

He started toward her.

Her eye's widened, and she almost yelped. Skye sped up and glance over her shoulder. None of them have a mask. That is weird. Everyone wears a—

Skye gasped. They are infected! The thought spurred her feet into action, and she fled to her car. Their steps pounded on the pavement behind her.

The leader shouted, "The world is dying, why should you get to live?"

A cold sweat burst over her body. Skye's heart hammered against her chest. She worked to haul in every breath.

As Skye closed in on her car, her gaze darted between it and her purse. "Please, please, please!" she muttered as she raced there.

Her hand plunged into her bag but came out empty. She tried again. Fingers grasped anything that remotely felt like keys only to push them aside again and again in frustration.

My keys are at the bottom of my purse! These people will infect me! I will die because I ignored every woman's safety video out there!

Frantic, she continued to grab for her keys while running, but the two actions were at odds with each other, and she slowed. The Sick were so close now she could hear them gasping for air. She realized, as her hand felt the thin cloth as it lay in her purse, she was not wearing her mask.

If they catch me, I'm dead. All they have to do is breathe on me!

She sped up, hope against hope that her fingers would land on the keys in time.

A sudden screech of tires grabbed Skye's attention. A woman shouted, "Get in!" As she looked over her shoulder, Skye saw an open car door.

Not taking any time to think about it, she lunged for the vehicle. Her body bounced on the hard seat as she landed. The Sick surrounded the car, clamoring around it.

Before they could get to the open door, Skye reached the door handle and pulled it shut.

Thirteen

A Goner

"Are you infected?" the woman screamed at Skye as she floored her vehicle. With adrenalin still pumping through her veins, Skye had trouble focusing and didn't respond for a moment.

"Are you infected?" the woman shouted again.

"No! No." Skye said as she brought a trembling hand up to brush a few hairs that had strayed near her eyes. She dug through her purse for an anxiety pill and popped it in her mouth. Then squirted a bit of sanitizer on her hands as a shiver ran through her at how close they had gotten to her.

The woman's eyes flashed at Skye. "Why aren't you wearing a mask?"

"I... No one was around. The building was empty. I didn't see them until it was too late," Skye said waving toward the Infected. "I should have had it on." She gripped her knees to stop her hands from quivering.

"I would've." The woman was blunt and angry. "You shouldn't be here. It's dangerous! I wouldn't be but, well... no choice. You'd be a goner without me." She took a deep breath to compose herself. "We've met before. At that medical convention, the city had a while back. I recognized you, or I'm not sure I would have stopped."

Skye nodded, then with a thready voice asked, "Why were they coming after me?"

"Some of those in the early infected stages are banding together. They call themselves Assassins and other weird names. They can see their end, and they're bitter about it. They go after healthy people."

Skye's jaw dropped. "This is a thing now?"

"Yeah, it's a thing."

Skye's racing heart slowed some, but she still trembled. "I cannot thank you enough. I would've been dead, as good as dead if you hadn't stopped."

The woman's voice gentled as her temper cooled. "We healthy need to help each other now. If we don't, no one is gonna make it." She introduced herself. "Anna Lynn Fisher, ER Doc. We can come back later for your car."

Skye agreed and slipped on her white cloth mask. "How are things going at the hospital?"

Anna Lynn made a hard left into the emergency room parking lot, drove past the many parked cars and as close as she could to the ER doors, then turned off the car. She twisted toward Skye and gave her a hard look as if wondering how Skye would handle what she was about to see. "Well, we are in a mess of something or another, and it isn't good. Prepare yourself."

The hospital was far worse than Skye imagined. Anna Lynn told her that there were no Sick here. If someone became ill, a group moved them to the local high school a few blocks down the road. What little they could do for those with the AgFlu was there.

These people were those injured by the city's chaos. Frightened to be alone, or under medical care that was no longer available anywhere else, they had sought the best the city now offered. Still others had simply run out of food or had nowhere other than this to go.

The air in the building felt stagnant with a strong scent of sweaty bodies and dirty diapers. Though the hospital ran on emergency power, the air conditioner was not a priority and only turned on a few times a day. Skye looked around the room. Given the number of people in the lobby, it could be worse.

The open waiting area they entered was floor to ceiling men, women and children, young and old. Bunk beds lined the walls. Floor space looked as if it had been devoured long ago. Families and individuals sat on the tattered blankets and sleeping bags claiming their spots as they waited out the day. As Skye made her careful way through the room, she found it hard to find an empty place to put her foot down.

Noise came from every direction, and Skye stayed close to the doctor so she could hear her speak. Some parents tried to conduct some sort of schooling with their children while others rocked crying babies. Still others grouped together and visited. At least three different types of music played loud enough for the whole room to sing along if they chose to do so.

Skye gaped at the scene. Are things this bad? How did I miss that things are this bad? Although Colton had been hit hard by the AgFlu, it seemed it was also sheltered from the full effects of the turmoil. She realized she probably had Tom and his police force to thank for that.

"I didn't know," Skye choked out.

"Well, in your defense, the reporters stopped talking about us long ago. They are too busy spreading the more exciting news about fires and protests."

As they crossed the room, Anna Lynn told Skye about some of the patients. "George," Anna Lynn said, pointing out a healthy-looking older teen. Large squares of gauze covered his lower arms and a part of his face. "Pulled a bunch of glass out of him after he and a group of his friends smashed up the city a bit. George doesn't do that anymore, do you, George?"

"No, ma'am." George looked like he regretted the fact he wouldn't be smashing anymore.

"Amy Lee Smith. Mid-pregnancy." Dark hair covered part of Amy Lee's face as she smiled, dipped her head and rubbed her growing belly. "She needed a little medical care. Stayed, seeing as how things are now.”

She nodded to the next patient. "Old lady McGlothlin. Ran out of food. Too dangerous to be home alone." Old lady McGlothlin's red face stood out against her white hair and mask. Either she had a fever, or her blood pressure was high. Anna Lynn noticed it too and asked a nearby nurse to take the petite woman into one of the exam rooms.

"People have sorta migrated here. All the rooms, offices and even closets hold people now. The lobby was the only room we had left. Now it's gone. Not sure what we will do next," Anna Lynn said shaking her head.

Skye tried not to let her concerns show over what had become an oasis in this city. How anyone is getting any good sleep is beyond me. Tired, cranky crowds with nothing to do equal trouble. There's no place to walk around or get any exercise unless they go outside, and I just saw how that can go!

This group is only a small part of this. Ten floors of this is a real concern. How are they getting enough food? Are medical supplies running out? If someone becomes Sick, how do they get them out before they infect the whole floor?

Skye adjusted her mask tighter to her face. "Is there somewhere we can talk?"

Anna Lynn walked down the hall to what used to be a closet. Inside was a cot and a few of the woman's belongings. "This is my 'home, sweet, home' right now. That way I'm close if I am needed."

Skye's opinion of the doctor, which was already high after seeing her situation, went higher. The woman certainly could have commandeered a larger space if she'd wanted but she hadn't. That was admirable.

"I can tell you care about these people. You have done so much to help them," Skye said, "but this set-up..." She trailed off hating to criticize an impossible condition.

Anna Lynn grimaced. "I know, it's band-aids over a gaping wound. But it's all we got. I've tried to get help from Emergency Management, from anyone to get something better. But everything is so chaotic. We get food, and as far as places to go, they tell me this is one of the best."

Anna Lynn lowered her head and pinched the bridge of her nose before looking back at Skye. "It's not so bad, and hopefully, temporary. Everyone pitches in. We actually need more for people to do."

Skye nodded. "I can see how that would be the case, keeping them busy would help." Hoping Anna Lynn had answers for her, Skye changed the subject. "I want to ask... Well, I have a cousin that's a cop, and he keeps giving me all the warnings. But he doesn't hear everything from a solid medical standpoint. Just rumors. What do you know?"

Anna Lynn nodded her head, her gaze on the floor. "I have a friend at the Disease Control that's telling me what's going on, so here are the things I know. This disease has entered other countries."

Skye brought her hand to her stomach. She had hoped they, whoever they were, had contained the illness to the United States. That would've been bad enough. "Oh, no."

Anna Lynn nodded. "There's more. I know the AgFlu is hitting the U.S. harder than any other disease in its history. During the 1918 flu epidemic, almost everyone lost one or two family members. This time a family will be fortunate if that is what they have left. Disease Control is estimating that over 70 percent will get the AgFlu. There's little hope if you contract it."

Skye asked the question everyone wondered. "Did she tell you how it started?"

"I know that the flu mixed with the rabies virus, though not how. My friend has a theory that someone invented it for germ warfare but if it was the U.S. government or some terrorist act, it’s anyone’s guess at this point. If this doesn't stop soon, we may never find out."

Anna Lynn scrubbed her hand over her forehead. "I do know the world will never be the same and whether that is a good thing or a bad thing—Well, that everyone can decide that for themselves. I know if I were you, I would get out of this hospital and hole up somewhere safe as long as you can. Let the worst go through. Both the flu and the people. I know most are good. But there are others out there, like those on the street, that are trouble."

"And the immune?" Skye asked with hope in her voice.

"It stands to reason there will be some. Disease Control is banking on it. I've heard of a few getting cold-like symptoms that go away. Make a note of that, the symptoms must completely go away, or the AgFlu still infects them. A couple here claimed to get through it, but I wasn't with them at the time. Still, a couple out of countless isn't much."

Skye looked at the floor and clasped her hands together until her knuckles turned white. This was what she had feared all along. Her words came slow. "You watch these shows and read these books, and you think, 'Oh if that were me I would do this' as if it would be so easy. Or you imagine ways you could survive. But guess what? What really happens is you're just so—just so—disbelieving of the whole thing. You don't know what to do. I don't know what to do."

Skye bent her head and brought her trembling hands up to her forehead as the full impact of what this disease meant for her and for the world hit her.

Anna Lynn eyed her with sympathy. "You will know. When you need to, you will." When Skye looked up at her and gave her head the tiniest shake, the doctor repeated the words—slow and forceful. "You will know."

The two women looked at each other, countless thoughts and worries tumbled through their minds and reflected in their eyes. Each needed support from the other, but neither could verbalize what they sought. Sorrow was clear on their faces, both for what had already happened and what they understood was yet to come. Taking a deep breath, Skye gave Anna Lynn a slight nod which she returned.

Anna Lynn turned back to her brisk manner. "Look for these symptoms: Lips or ears turning blue, blackened feet, coughing up blood or foaming at the mouth, disorientation, stiffening of the limbs, convulsing, fever. Some go into a coma, some don't. Some die quick, and some take weeks, months even."

Skye made a mental note of everything Anna Lynn said.

Anna Lynn continued to rattle on, seeming eager for the visit to end. "Remember this: It is airborne, and the most contagious, when people have a fever so stay away from anyone with a high temperature. After the fever goes, it is no longer airborne, but still infectious through bodily fluids. A patient can catch the AgFlu, develop a fever, but few other symptoms for months so it may seem like they are okay. But if you see a lingering cold, or difficulty breathing, be concerned about that. Some have hidden what they are for a while."

Skye nodded. She supposed there were plenty of reasons someone would cover up having the disease.

"And watch out for the Infected that want to take you down with them." She sighed and spread out her hands. "That is what I know, all I know." Anna Lynn paused then clapped her hands on her legs before standing. "Now let's get you to your car so you can get on home."

As they walked back down the crowded hallway, Anna Lynn asked Skye why she had been out today. Skye told the woman about her two patients then added her need for a grocery store. Anna Lynn came to an abrupt stop, turned around and yelled out, "Tommy!" Tommy's head popped out from behind a door. "Get a few boxes of supplies for this lady. Put 'em in my trunk."

"No, you’ve done enough for me already! I’ll be fine."

"It's fine. We have plenty right now. Some organizations drop off food regular. They're aware we have a crowd of people in here, and there's no shortage of food right now." She made a face. "Fewer people eating it now."

Skye sighed. "I guess that's true. It'll save me having to stop. I appreciate that."

On their way back to Skye's car, Anna Lynn continued to advise her. "Once everything settles down, start planting. Eventually, all this canned food will run out. Gonna have to go old school now. You said you had a cousin that was a cop? Stick with him. He'll understand what needs doing if things get too bad. I'm hoping, really hoping it doesn't, but it is hard to tell. People being, you know, people."

Skye listened with care, nodding from time to time. Anna Lynn had saved her life and given her enough food for a while if she was careful. She could say anything she wanted to say, and Skye would take notice.

As they neared Skye's car, they first went around the block to make sure it was safe, then stopped at the back of Skye's vehicle and transferred the food.

Skye turned to the doctor. "I can never thank you enough. I will stay if you need help. If you need anything..."

"No, like I said, we have all the support we need. We're okay. You go and get yourself somewhere secure and stay there."

Skye moved forward to hug Anna Lynn in appreciation for everything she had done, but Anna Lynn moved back.

"Sorry, I am just not the hugging type." She shrugged and gave a little laugh.

"No problem. That's fine. It's probably safer, anyway. You stay safe too. I pray we both make it through this and meet again when things are better."

"That would be nice, real nice."

Anna Lynn’s gaze followed Skye as she got into her car and drove off. She hoped she'd given Skye the advice she needed to survive this thing. A small cough escaped her.

Slowly, Anna Lynn reached up and tugged down the car's visor and opened the mirror. She loosened the ties of her mask and drew it off.

Her eyes widened as she stared at her reflection. Tears flooded and ran down her face, over her blue lips.

She squeezed her eyelids shut, then reopened them, hoping the scene in the mirror would change. Fear seized her when it had not.

Anna Lynn laid her head on the steering wheel and sobbed. Then with an aching heart, she put the car in drive and turned toward the high school.

Fourteen

A Monster

Jesse bit his lips together. Things had been going good. For the longest while he could ever remember. Him and his dad hadn’t just got by, they were getting along. Almost like a real dad and son.

But something happened—like it always did. The AgFlu had ruined everything. Too many people got Sick at his father's company, so the company had, temporarily they said, shut down.

Guess no one needs concrete poured when they're turnin blue and foamin at the mouth.

Jesse flinched as a bottle smashed against cheap wallboard. Glass splintered into a hundred shards that tinged onto the floor below.

He's back.

Jesse lay huddled in his single, metal-framed bed trying to ignore the sounds coming from the next room. His chin trembled and refused to stop, no matter how strong his orders. Little ragged breaths huffed between his pale lips as he curled his small body into a tight ball.

Jesse pulled his knees closer to his chest and covered himself from top to bottom with his thin, frayed blanket. He wished with all his heart that his father would fall over and lay senseless until morning—not become the monster Jesse knew he could be.

"Pass out. Pass out," Jesse quietly chanted to himself.

The boy's mind screamed for him to run, but it was too late. The window had warped shut long ago. There was only one way out of this room, straight past him.

The squeak of the chair springs as his father rose caused Jesse to jerk. His slight body trembled despite his best efforts to control it. The sound of slow, unsteady footsteps scraping across the floor reached him. Jesse's body tightened. Bunching the blanket in his clenched fists, he yearned for Frankie to forget he had a son.

Turn left. Turn left.

The footfalls didn't turn left. They turned right. They came for him.

Jesse's bedroom door flew open. It smacked against the wall behind it. The boy peeked out from his false sanctuary. Tears streamed from his eyes as if the blows had already begun. He pressed his clutched fists to the side of his face.

Frankie's dark form filled the doorway. He was still for a moment, knowing something was wrong, but he was well past any reason.

Jesse sensed the next movement before the noise reached his ears. He heard the rattle of the man's belt buckle. The boy let out a small, almost soundless moan.

Jesse squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could. His jaw tightened at the whoosh of the leather as it snaked its way across the belt loops.

The boy was well-acquainted with the sound. He knew what it meant. He was in for a beating. Someone had to pay for the troubles in this house.

Tonight, that someone was him.

Fifteen

All Done

Two days after her trip to the city, Skye woke in the night to a stuffy nose. Her pulse instantly raced as she recalled a cold was how the AgFlu started. Her mind imagined the worst scenarios. But, once she cleared her nose, she found she inhaled with little problem. After that, she scolded herself both for losing control and her bleak thoughts.

There are plenty of reason I could be stuffy. After looking around, she saw one of her bedroom windows open. The raised frame looked dark against the light of the full moon. There, see! Fall allergy season was always an issue. Skye stumbled out of bed and took an allergy pill and settled back down for the rest of the night. One last thought drifted through her mind. But something is wrong. I know it.

When she woke in the morning and drew in a deep breath, she could hear crackle of phlegm. Her throat burned. This time it wasn't so easy to tamp down the jittery panic that filled her.

Skye covered her face with her hands. Then gathering courage, she checked her lips, fingertips, and toes for blue discoloration. There were none. She blew out a long sigh and closed her eyes.

Skye debated doing a thousand things, but in the end, realized there was nothing she could do.

As the day wore on her body ached, and she did little else but lay on the couch dozing in and out of sleep. When she put her hand to her forehead, the vast contrast between her cold hand and her blazing face frightened her.

When she tried to pull in a few slow, deep breaths only to cough uncontrollably, she sobbed.

Is this it then? For a fleeting moment, she wondered if it would be better if it ended now. What kind of world will be left when this is all done, anyway? Nothing I will recognize, maybe nothing worth surviving.

Skye trembled and broke down as the fear she'd been trying to ignore came back full force. There was no way to get better. She could only lay exhausted and empty with a single thought swirling through her mind on a continuous loop. I'm going to die.

Even quarantine and the small comforts the medical community would have given her were out of the question now. The military had ordered Doctor Paul Kinder to close up his office and head for Fenton. And the city was too far away for her to drive in her worsening condition.

Still, she did what she could. Skye checked her temperature throughout the day, watching as it went up and down. When it was high, she would climb into a bath of tepid water. But after doing that several times, it no longer kept her fever down.

How do you distract yourself from your impending death?

Numb, she stared at the ceiling. Skye took one difficult, rattling breath after another. She put her hand on her bracelets and gripped them as one would grasp the hand of a loved one.

Once her fever rose to 103 degrees. She stopped taking it. She didn't want to know.

Sometimes sobs racked her body. Sometimes she bowed her head in fervent prayer, lips racing with silent pleas to help her through this. Sometimes she did both.

Once on legs that felt as though they would melt under her, she returned from the kitchen carrying a glass of water. After setting it on the coffee table, she saw three others sitting there. Skye fell onto the couch and stared at them. Three other glasses of water she was unable to remember putting there. Every new symptom sent a chill down her spine. A small wail escaped her. Now I’m disoriented, I'm losing it.

Skye got up and locked all the doors and windows, then barricaded them to the best of her ability. She didn't want to infect anyone, nor did she wish to become one of those lost, wandering people.

That night the hallucinations started.

Her body thrashed as her dream-filled mind swirled with images of shadowy people. They rushed toward her as she tried without success to get away. Puzzled, she looked down at the source of the problem, her feet.

She lifted one foot, then another. Gooey, wobbly bands clung to the soles of her feet and held her to the earth. In her nightmare, she became obsessed with removing the slime. With flailing hands, she scraped at the ooze on her feet. She forgot about the malevolent monsters behind her.

The evil was soon upon her. Their vacant eyes staring at and through her at the same time. Rooted to the spot on weak, shaking legs, Skye watched as they came at her. Her own hands raising to claw at her face in distress. The monster's mouths opened wide, dripping blood-tinged foam, as they moved closer and closer and —

Skye's screams woke her.

She lay on the couch with her hand to her thumping heart. Unsure if hours or days passed, it was daylight now. About the middle of the day, she thought. The house was sweltering, and she was slick with perspiration.

Her mind was fuzzy as if she were dream-walking and full comprehension seemed just beyond her. The strange mixture of reality and illusion bewildered her. She reached out a hand to touch an object, but her thoughts couldn't grasp it as something substantial.

Through her haze, Skye pushed herself up from the couch. Her weak arms scarcely up to the task. Her small, faltering steps moved her into the bathroom, then to the tub. She could do nothing about the sludge that coated her lungs, but she would not lay there drenched in slimy sweat.

Removing her clothes took immense effort. She groaned as she peeled each item clinging to her sticky skin. Once she pulled off her last piece of damp clothing, Skye dropped into the half-filled tub of water.

Exhausted from her efforts, her last coherent thought was that she no longer burned with fever.

The next time Skye woke, she was choking.

Her body tightly convulsed. Skye gagged and retched, not from the water surrounding her, but from the flood of ooze that had been building in her lungs throughout the day. She rose to her knees and clung to the sides of the slippery tub for support.

There was no thought, only instinct. This was a fight for breath. Any breath. The smallest one would suffice.

The sound of her racing, thumping heart pounded in her ears. Her body jerked and thrashed, begging for air.

So intense was the struggle that had she the breath to yell for help, it would not have entered her mind to do so.

Sky's body curled around her starving lungs. Sweat again coursed down her neck, back, and chest. Her arms and legs shook without control as her terror-struck mind cleared. Sharp and aware, one bleak thought came to her.

I am dying.

And in that moment of clarity, Skye knew she didn't want to die. Ever. Let alone of this horrible, disgusting disease. No matter what this world was like now or later.

Memories crowded her mind. There is always something to live for.

All her doubts, worries and fears faded away. Determination grew until it filled up all the weak places within her.

She. Would. Not. Die.

One more small effort to clear her airway was what she had left in her depleted body. A cough was all she could do. A little one. Her slack form hardly moved with the strength of it.

Although it took enormous battle, the effort was puny.

Yet, it was all she needed.

Mucus streamed from her nose and mouth. At first, thick and tough then thinning out to a slimy, runny phlegm. Dark green streaked with red. It kept coming. A broad, never-ending stream.

Unable to pull in a breath against the outward tide, she swayed, her vision blacking. Hands clenched, legs trembling, she continued vomiting the disgusting mass.

At last, it stopped. Slow and careful, she inhaled. At first, the air burned. It seemed almost foreign to her lungs. Skye wanted to gulp the pure sweetness but instead inhaled with as much care as she was able. She did not want to start another avalanche of mucus.

Skye took one, then two shallow, beautiful breaths.

I might make it a little longer.

Skye sat on her knees in the cold, phlegmy water. Her head bent to the arm which draped over the edge of the old-fashioned tub. She wanted so much to get out of that bath, but she hadn't a single shred of power left to do so. So, she lay there.

After a time, Skye gathered enough energy to haul herself out of the tub and pull the drain. She refilled it with clean water and bathed the sickness off of herself.

All her strength sapped, she wrapped a towel around her body and tottered to the couch. She downed one of the three glasses of water left sitting on the coffee table. She laid down, pulled a blanket over herself, and in an instant, fell into a deep sleep.

This time Skye woke up, birds were singing. She smiled. The melodic whistles had never sounded as sweet as they did today.

Her good spirits shattered when she sat up and gagged again. Skye grabbed a planter sitting within arm's reach. She dumped the plant onto the coffee table and coughed some remaining phlegm into the container.

Still fatigued, the rest of the day she spent between bouts of choking thick saliva and sleeping. But she was alive. Alive! Even in her weakened state, Skye glowed, wanting to shout and scream for joy. Tears of appreciation came to her eyes.

Maybe she was one of the fortunate few with a second chance. Those so rare, they were only rumors. She vowed that, from here on, she would help anyone she could.

Other than the uncomfortable and revolting way the phlegm broke up and left her body, it surprised her how quickly she felt better. It was as if the disease, deciding it could not beat her, had slunk away like a frustrated cat.

Skye dozed on the couch most of the day in silence until the television blared at her when the electric kicked on. Sure the hallucinations had started again, she stared at the TV in disbelief when the reporter told the story of the Atlantis Cure. Really? Where is this cure than? Skye snapped it off. After falling to sleep a second time, she woke around dinnertime and almost felt like herself.

That night she slept more sound than she had in a long time. When Skye opened her eyes, she drew in the deepest breath she could and felt the elation of lungs filled with air. She had only a slight cough, and her fever was still down.

Skye quickly checked her lips, fingers, and toes for any sign of blue and found none. The tight band of anxiety and fear that had been wrapped around her chest for a while loosened.

When Skye woke the next morning, she was astonished to find she was healthy. It was only then Skye let herself feel it. That lightness, that indescribable joy that comes over a person when the absolute impossible has suddenly become possible.

With a grin from ear to ear, Skye skipped through the kitchen. After pulling out all her best food, she ate a huge breakfast. The first real solids she'd swallowed in days, she shoved the meal in as fast as she could. Then she picked up her iPhone and turned on her music.

And she danced.

Sixteen

Up to Me

Skye hummed a jaunty tune while cooking spaghetti on her orange camp stove for lunch that evening. When the phone rang, she startled. It was such a rare sound nowadays. Service had become spotty enough that when one of them worked it almost seemed surprising. She raced to the phone and answered.

"Hello!" Tricia said, the relief in her voice apparent.

"Hi back!" Skye almost bounced in happiness as she turned off the gas to the cooker.

"Oh my Lord, Skye, I'm so grateful to hear your voice! We all been callin and callin you and there ain’t been an answer! What've you been doing?" Tricia started out anxious but ended on an angry note.

Skye had a vague recollection of the phone ringing when she had been in the throes of her feverish delirium. She hurried to reassure Tricia. "I'm fine, don't worry. Really, I am. I was..." Her voice trailed off as she raised a hand to her cheek. "Well, you won't believe this, but I was Sick. I got over it though, like, actually over it! I am totally fine now."

"Skye," Tricia whispered, "No."

"I'm fine, Tricia! I am."

Tricia was quiet for a moment before saying, "How can that be?"

"Well, I'm not sure, but I am. And there has to be more than me, and I wonder how many. Two days before I got ill, I drove to Fenton for my final appointments and groceries." When Tricia uttered an exasperated sigh, Skye ignored it and told Tricia everything she'd learned at the hospital, and her frightening experience on the street outside her office.

"Oh, Skye! I can't believe what happened! You should've called us."

"Well, I got home fine, and when I got sick, there was nothing to do. I didn't want you or Tom to come over here and become exposed," Skye said. "Please understand that I couldn't have that on me."

"No more going into the city! Ya hear me?" Tricia scolded Skye. "And I'm sending Tom around to make sure you're okay."

"I totally agree! No more Fenton for me. It's a whole different place right now." Skye shuddered as she remembered the empty buildings, and the streets deserted of almost everyone but the Infected. "And it isn't necessary, but it would be nice to see Tom." Skye asked Tricia how some of their friends in town were doing before inquiring if she had any news of Jesse.

Tricia reluctantly spoke. "Well, that's one thing I called about. Mom saw him the other day roamin the woods at her place. She tried to get him to sit a spell and have some pie, but he wouldn't. Wouldn't even get up close to her, she said. It's not like him. Not with them, it's not. She saw marks though. Near as she could tell, Frankie's been beatin on him pretty hard."

Skye felt the color drain from her face, and she drew her lip between her teeth. She sank onto the marble countertop, propping her elbows on it and scraping her hair back with one hand. No! No, no, no, no!

This was the news she’d feared. She imagined the fear on Jesse's dirty little face as he peeked out from behind the trees not knowing where to go. She thought of her list of regular support systems before, one by one, discarding them as useless.

Skye tapped her lips with her forefinger then covered her mouth with her hand. Who is available to help? All the offices are closed. And if by some miracle, I reach someone, and they get him, where will they put him? Somewhere he will be exposed to the AgFlu?

"Skye?" Tricia said, reminding her she was still on the phone.

"Oh, Tricia, what are we going to do?"

"Well, mom’s gonna be lookin out for him. If he comes around again, she'll try and get him to come into the house. If he does, Dad will bring him here, and Tom will get help for him. Dad's aching to go on over there, but we're worried Frankie’d be, well... too much for Dad to handle. You know how he gets."

Skye hated to turn down anyone willing to help Jesse, but she agreed that a drunk Frankie was often dangerous. In a bad mood, he could easily overtake Tricia's dad. Her brows creased. "Why can't Tom get him?"

Sympathy and worry filled Tricia’s voice. "It's a fair ways out there. He's been working almost 20 hours a day and can't keep up as it is. He hardly lays his head down at night anymore. Things are crazy, just insane, and he needs to care for the worse cases first. I'm sorry, Skye."

Skye nodded. Her cousin always did his best, and if even half the news was true, she wondered how Tom was getting any sleep at all. But where does that leave Jesse?

Tricia continued, "Tom agrees what's happening to Jesse is bad, but he has to prioritize, and it's not life and death. Tom doesn't like it, but he has to. He says if he gets any kind of time, he's gonna head straight over there."

"That may not be enough. And I disagree, I think it is life and death." Skye's voice hardened as she tapped one painted fingernail on the countertop.

"Skye, don't be gettin any wild ideas. That ain’t like you. Let the system handle this. It's there for a reason, you always say."

"True, Tricia," Skye said. She wished it was like her. "But even on a good day, I had to babysit the system, and these aren't good days. The system is gone."

Tricia continued to throw out objections. "Frankie's dangerous. Remember that fight he got into a few months ago? The other guy was a mess."

"That's exactly my point. Jesse can't hold his own against him. The boy needs to be removed now."

"Jesse's gettin beat on, and there's no doubt it needs to stop. But Frankie is gonna hurt someone else more than his own kid."

"Tricia, you're assuming he's a normal father with normal fatherly instincts. He is not. Especially when he's drinking." Skye walked to the large window beside her dining room table and looked out on the empty street.

"I understand what he is. I was raised up with him."

"You know a part of him. And I know a different part. I treat what is left of his child." Skye set her hand on her hip. She would allow no argument on this point.

"Please, Skye, don't make me sorry I told you this. I reckoned if you saw Jesse wandering around town, you could, ya know, keep him at your house."

"No, don't be sorry." Skye’s gaze strayed from one house to another, most of which were showing signs of abandonment. "It's just there's no one. Jesse has no one. I'm the closest person he has that can help him. And believe me, he hasn't let me all that close. He's so guarded, it's like he's in a dark cave, and he swipes out at anyone coming toward him. Jesse won't reach out for help. He wouldn't even grasp how to do that." Skye let out a long sigh. "I'll watch for him. Please tell me if anyone sees him again."

The women said goodbye, promising to call the next day again if their phones had a signal.

Skye tried to put Jesse out of her mind, but as the day wore on, she became more and more agitated. She tried reading, using her bit of remaining battery on her iPad to watch a downloaded Friends, and even resorted to cleaning but nothing worked. Her thoughts kept wandering back to Jesse and Frankie.

All her other kids had someone to turn to when the mistreatment became worse, somewhere they went to get a break from the intense pressure of living with an abuser. But not Jesse. He was a child, alone, with no way out. Skye was that person for him, the person he could talk to when he wanted, the person who helped him see things could be better. Now, when his life had improved for possibly the first time, Jesse was lost again, this time with no hope of rescue.

How am I supposed to just sit here knowing what is going on in that household? The boy needs help. He needs me. Who else will stop what is happening to Jesse?

Thoughts rolled through her head. Anna Lynn telling her the world would never be the same. Estimates that seventy to eighty percent of the population would be dead within the year. That Tom couldn't make it to Jesse. Frankie's past violence, even against his own son.

There was no longer any structure to take care of these kinds of problems, and who knew when it would be in place again.

In an unthinkable world, you can do unthinkable things.

The thought flashed through Skye’s mind almost like a neon sign. It both terrified and exhilarated her, but she closed her eyes against it. Still, it wouldn't go away. Unlike others, she could use the lack of structure for good.

Skye shook her head. Never before would such an idea have formed to a solid conclusion. To illegally take someone's kid, even from someone like Frankie.

But now... with things the way they are… it leaves it up to us. Up to me. Can I do this? Skye looked at her pampered hands and her designer jeans and t-shirt. She scoffed at her anxiety-ridden self. I'm hardly the savior type. But I’ve got to, I’m all Jesse’s got.

Frankie had been given every chance. He had proven what kind of man, what kind of father he is, a long time ago. He was not a man to raise a child—even if that child was his.

Skye looked at her shaking hands. Her bracelets lightly chimed as they tapped against each other. Are you actually talking yourself into this?

Jesse isn't safe with him, Frankie will go too far one day, and in a drunken rage, kill him. No one may notice one small disappeared ten-year-old boy with all the chaos going on. And if they did, all Frankie would have to say is he got Sick. Who would question him?

The unthinkable was no longer so unlikely, but plausible, even reasonable.

Skye squared her shoulders. It was time to save Jesse.

Seventeen

Way Too Much

Known for making calm and deliberate decisions, Skye now decided to do something that was neither of those things. But once she’d made up her mind, her rational manner took over. For success, a plan was required, and she took her time to devise it.

The best course of action was to leave the area once she rescued Jesse. She didn't want a vengeful Frankie searching her out. Leaving her home meant packing. Skye walked the house choosing what she needed, and wanted, to take with her.

She packed up all her jewelry in a large, black travel case. Skye added her extra cash too, then decided she shouldn't keep all her treasures in one place and moved her money to a small bag that held her tablet, a couple of books, and a notebook. She took that out to her jeep.

As she walked back through the living room, the electricity came on, and the room sprang to life. Lights flashed on and off, then back on again before they settled. The radio flickered and steadied then its sound strengthened. Earlier, Skye had dialed into local news, and now someone was reporting. She stopped and leaned a jean-covered hip against her couch to listen.

The AgFlu had infected the regular DJ at the start of the outbreak. Since then, whoever passed by the station would step into the box, state their name and whatever information they wanted to share. Unfortunately, the news most often consisted of the number of the Sick and a list of those who died. But Skye forced herself to listen, crossing her arms over her green, short-sleeved t-shirt. At least, I'll know what happened to my neighbors even if it is the worst. And perhaps they'll announce the delivery of food. Then I could pick some items up on my way out of town.

A familiar voice said, "Uh, this is Bill Riley from Riley Funeral Services here. And I, uh, been over to the feed store. Bob and Alvie was over there. This is the news we have." He listed names of Sick families. If one person in a family had the AgFlu, everyone assumed they all would have it soon.

Skye wiped a tear away as Bill finished his list. "The amount of Sick slowed for a while, but it seems to have picked back up."

Oh, no!

Then, his voice cracking with sorrow, he moved on to the long list of townspeople who had passed away. "Remember to stay in. Tend to your sick. And if they pass, bring 'em down to the square. We'll say a few words for them with you. We'll take care of them the best we can." The dead piled up so fast now that burials were no longer an option. It was safer and quicker to cremate those lost to the disease.

Skye’s tears continued as Bill paused then cleared his throat before starting again, "We also got word from Fenton that police are now estimating an eighty percent death toll. So, uh, stay outta the city. We’re safer here, folks. Let you know when we've got more news."

The word is out. Skye shook her head. But are we safer here?

After hearing the considerable list of friends and neighbors that were no longer alive, Skye doubted it. Last night, she had stood on the sidewalk, looking for someone, anyone, but the streets were empty.

The lights from a few lanterns had shown through some neighbor's homes, but there was no laughter or squeals of play from the children. The wind stirring the trees was the only noise she heard no matter how hard she strained her ears. She realized for the first time what a lonely sound it could be.

Skye tightened her crossed arms as she recalled the names Bill read on the radio. Her hairdresser, to whom she'd waved as she passed her salon almost every day on her way to work. The local baker who always had tea and a bit of gossip for Skye when she picked up a loaf of fresh bread. The postmaster, unfailingly quick to give a sharp warning for any postal infraction, but even faster with a joke and a smile. Then there were her caring neighbors, but those were too hard to think of yet.

This town wasn't like the other places Skye had lived. Here, everyone was like an extended family, and each loss seemed personal.

It feels as if the whole world is dying.

Skye wiped her eyes a few times and let out a deep sigh before getting back to her job at hand. She went to the kitchen and leaned over the counter to add to her growing list. A plan was forming. She would get Jesse and go to her parents in Ohio.

It was where Skye wanted to be. Home is what she needed right now, and her mom and dad would be happy to have her and Jesse. They loved children, their care would help give Jesse normalcy and help heal him. Lord knows they've helped heal me in the past.

It is a good five-hour drive home, but if this town is any indication, the streets will be deserted. On the other hand, maybe everyone is trying to get somewhere else. I'll need to plan out two different routes and make sure Jesse can read a map in case we need to make a quick change in direction.

The roaming Sick didn't bother Skye too much. She had been passing them on her way into Fenton for some time now, and as long as she stayed away from them, she thought she would be fine. But those merely infected did. They were still fast and cunning. She shuddered at the thought of running into more groups of Infected that wanted to hurt her.

Five hours. It is only five hours. I'll stock up on water and snacks. We won't leave the car. We can make it, we have to. What other choice do we have?

Although Skye had her worries about traveling home, she couldn't stay here. It was too easy for Frankie to track her down. If he did that, she would have no hope of holding onto Jesse.

And even though the world had become unhinged, what she was doing was still illegal. For all she knew, Tom would have to get involved, and she didn't want that to happen.

But most of all, she wished this to last. She wanted Jesse to be safe. Somewhere no one could ever make him go back to his dad again.

It seemed Ohio was the best place to be, the safest place for both of them. Skye doubted that the world would get back to normal fast enough for anyone to track them down that far away.

The radio crackled again. Skye heard an almost inaudible woman's voice. She walked over to the receiver and turned it as high as it would go then recognized it as Betsy from down the street.

Frightened and agitated, Betsy's words ran together as she spoke. "...out on Main Street, and I saw a group of them. The Sick. Or Infected. I didn't know most. They're all bunched up like some sort of gang or somethin. I can hear them kicking in the doors of the houses and going in. Lots of noise. They're breaking up stuff, destroying everything!"

There was a pause, and some shuffling noises, Betsy's whispering became more urgent.

"I have to go. They're getting closer. I wanted to warn everyone. They're comin up Main Street from the south. Get out of your homes. Find a safe place 'til they pass by."

At Betsy's first whispered words, Skye had froze on weak legs. One encounter was enough. She knew the fear of having someone who craved to kill on her heels. She didn't want to feel that again.

Before Betsy finished speaking, Skye had gone from deliberating about what to take to throwing together what they couldn't live without. Skye figured she had perhaps ten minutes to get her stuff packed and get out of the house before they would be here. She needed to move and move fast.

Skye felt desperate. She had to get to the boy—that she knew.

Adrenalin pumping, Skye flew through the rooms. She grabbed what she could and threw it all into the Jeep.

I should have gotten more supplies, had the car packed and ready. I was so sure it wouldn't come to this. Now, look at me!

As her Jeep screeched out of the driveway, she heard a neighbor's car doing the same. A movement in the yard caught her eye, and she slowed. She needed to know the dangers she faced in this diseased world.

Her heart seized as she saw a horde about fifteen strong running for her vehicle. These differed from the ones in the city. All seemed in different phases of the disease. Some moved awkwardly, lurching along the yard. Others, in early stages, came at her as fast as any healthy man.

They were dirty with torn clothes and grimy, tangled hair. Skye fleetingly wondered if they found shelter at night or if they roamed until they dropped by the roadside.

The sounds they made sent a cold shiver through Skye. Some jeered, swearing to end the life of everyone in this town. But others groaned, hissed, panted or rasped. It echoed every horror film Skye had ever seen.

A blue-tinted hand thumped against Skye's back window. She startled and clenched the steering wheel. She twisted forward in her seat and took off. But not before others reached her. As she sped by, grasping fingers smeared dirt and blood-tinged slime along the Jeep's windows.

Too close. Way too close.

The angry faces got smaller and smaller in Skye's rearview mirror. Her tense muscles loosened a bit. As relieved as she was to be away from the danger, she was sorry to leave. Her home, which she had willingly spent so much time restoring, had been her safe place, her sanctuary. She'd often looked forward to getting home after a stressful day at work and curling up on her comfortable couch for a quiet evening. Will life ever be the same again?

Skye turned her focus to the road and slowed. The twists and turns not only made the trip longer but also more dangerous at high speeds. A determined little frown formed between her eyes. The only thing that could stop her now was clogged roads, and she hoped that would not be a problem.

Hang on, Jesse. I'll be there soon.

Eighteen

Piece of Junk

As Skye drove, she instructed Siri to dial Tricia's number. There was no answer, which wasn't surprising, given the unreliable service she wasn't even sure it was going through. Her voice mirrored her regret as she left a message that would cause Tom and Tricia to worry. "This is Skye. So... I'm doing something. Something you didn't want me to do. I'm sorry, I had to. I can't leave Jesse in that situation, but I'll be careful. I'll be fine, and I'll call again after."

Now everything's done that can be done.

Skye planned to park the car somewhere near enough to Jesse's house she could keep an eye on it. At some point, he would come outside. Then, she could talk to him, and they would just drive away.

A good, easy plan.

Skye watched the forested countryside fly by. She was in a somewhat flat area of the highway, as flat as West Virginia gets anyway, and she was making up time.

Something feels wrong. It nagged at Skye, but as hard as she tried, she couldn't put her finger on it.

Her eyes narrowed as she frowned and her mind ran through what she had brought along, her message to Tricia, the events of the last few days. Then her gaze swept the car's signal lights and came to an abrupt stop at the fuel gauge. The red indicator sat on E.

Skye's stomach sank like a rock. She hadn't filled the tank after the last trip to Fenton. Working gas stations were hard to find between the blackouts and absent owners. It hadn't seemed safe to stop just anywhere on her way back from the city, and when she had gotten to Colton, their delivery hadn't arrived yet. Now Skye was stuck. There was no place to fuel up between here and Jesse's. Just trees and more trees.

She banged her fist on the steering wheel. The only gas station was behind her. Right where the Sick were. Turning around wasn't an option. The only thing she could do now was to continue on with the hope she had enough gas to get there.

She took a few deep breaths. I'll figure something out. It will be okay.

A short time later, Skye's frustration flared as her Jeep sputtered to a sudden stop. "No! No, no, no no!" she wailed as she banged on the leather-covered steering wheel.

She laid her head down, but her deep breaths weren't working. I'm not nearly close enough. There is at least twenty minutes of driving to go. She raised her head as she closed and opened her eyes. Okay, now what?

In desperation, Skye scanned the surrounding area. A curve up ahead and a curve behind. No houses in between. The last driveway had been a few miles back and who knew how far up the hill the next house was. If there even was a house.

There was one hope. Up the road, she saw an old, red truck. Unsure if it had been abandoned by a disoriented Sick owner or because of a breakdown, Skye had nothing to lose, and she studied the beat-up vehicle.

She got out of her Jeep, and again, looked up and down the road, in vain, for a better car. She saw none. Skye sighed and headed toward the truck.

Please, please, please start, you piece of junk!

As she got closer to the vehicle, Skye saw the truck looked like it had been used in the recent past. It was a good sign, so she double-checked the area to see if anyone was around to claim it. There was nothing but the road, a million trees, and a field of tall grass to the left that led to more forest.

Still, Skye felt odd about taking the vehicle, but she didn't have a choice. Opening the front, driver door, she stretched over the clean but worn seat to look for keys in the ignition. She found none, so she checked under the visor and muddy floor mat. Still none. Well, thanks to my crazy brother, I know how to hot-wire this junk heap. Who would have ever thought that would come in handy?

Skye ran back to her Jeep to get the tools she needed. She laid herself half over the seat and half under the steering wheel as she reached under the dash to pull the required wires. After a few attempts, Skye closed her eyes and chuckled when the engine roared to life then settled into a rumbling hum.

Good boy, she thought patting the steering wheel. The body might be a mess, but the motor sounds fine.

Skye sat up and pulled on the truck door. Her arm strained as the stubborn door refused to respond, then slow and squeaky at first, it finally banged shut and held. She scanned the truck's indicators happy to that the needle for the fuel tank pointed almost to full.

Skye backed the truck up to her own car and hopped out. After some internal debate, she decided she would take her stuff now. Who knew when she would get back here, and she didn't want to be stuck without supplies. Skye sprinted to the back of her Jeep and scooped up as much as she could carry, throwing it all into the bed of the truck.

It was on her second trip back to her car, she heard an angry male voice shout from across the field, "Hey!"

She stopped, like a deer in headlights. But she didn't look directly at the man until she heard him roar at her again.

"Hey, you! Girl!"

Nineteen

The Woodsmen Variety

Oh, crap!

Skye stopped short and looked up. Two heavily armed men sprinted toward her from the woods. Both carried bows, one a crossbow and the other a compound bow. Large knives hung from their belts. If she wasn't mistaken, one also had a handgun. Skye bit her lip as she ran a sweaty hand down the side of her jeans.

She quickly scanned the area hoping someone else had come up the road, but it was only the same pavement and trees that surrounded her. She glanced back at the strangers.

What have I done? Facing angry men with weapons is not what I want to be doing right now!

As he got closer, the dark-haired one yelled at Skye again, "What do you think you’re doin? You just taking other people's stuff now? That how it is? That's my truck!"

"No, no! I didn't see you. I'm sorry! My car ran out of gas, and it's—it's—an emergency." Skye moved backward on shaky feet until she bumped into the side of his vehicle.

"Didn't think someone mighta been out here huntin?" Now they were closer, there was no doubt the two men were of the woodsmen variety, and their weapons made sense. She swallowed trying to add moisture to her dry mouth. Not that they still couldn't use them on me if they wanted.

Skye held her lips together as she shook her head. Her tart thoughts would not help the situation. No, of course not! Someone hunting is not the first thing that comes to mind when I see an abandoned vehicle. Do I look like the type that would be my first thought?

But it seemed, they had been on the hunt. The one yelling at Skye held a string of squirrels along with two rabbits off one of his powerful shoulders. Her eyes lingered. Powerful enough that a single swing would squash me like a little bug.

“I just didn’t think--” she said, her back pushing into the vehicle as goosebumps ran up her arms. She couldn't go any further.

Thick, dark, somewhat shaggy hair hung over the man's ears and down the back of his neck. He was taller than her by a few inches, and he used that to his advantage. He stopped close enough to her that she had to look up at him. His chest rose and fell with every ragged breath he exhaled in the small space he left her between himself and his truck.

Skye's gaze darted from left to right, looking for a way out. But the man was on alert, and she worried that one move from her would encourage him to truly trap her. She looked down at the ground and bit her lip. Then raised her face to his. This was not a time to back down.

He stared at her bold expression, a slight smirk on his face. It was clear he could see the nervousness behind her bravado.

The man sneered at her. "Yeah, you didn't think—since you were tryin to up and take my truck." His sharp, blue eyes gave her a haughty once over as his breath fanned over her. "It don't look like no emergency." He waited, giving her a stare that spoke volumes. Nothing she said would be good enough.

The man's disdainful expression was Skye’s undoing. All the anxiety and worry of the day came spilling out, "Fine! Man, fine! I'm sorry!" She threw her arms out at him and shouted even as she warned herself to stop.

Under normal circumstances, Skye would have booked it out of there well before now, but these weren't normal circumstances. There was nowhere to go. Now how am I going to get to Jesse?

"You gonna say anything?" Dark-hair said with a glance to the other man. He stood snickering at the front of the truck.

"Hey, I'm just watchin the show, brother." He was about the same height and build as the man who yelled, but there the similarities ended. His light brown hair was clipped close to his head, and his brown eyes held a harder edge.

Skye was at a loss of what to do next. She had no car, and it seemed, no help to get one. Still fuming, Skye pushed at the man in front of her, somewhat surprised he let her. She stepped away from the men, onto the road and circled. Her mind raced, looking for any solution.

"I don't know what," she said, "I just don't know. How far to the nearest--anything?"

When Skye got insolent stares instead of answers, a hot flush rushed from her insides to her face. She sent them furious looks and reached into their truck bed to pull her supplies out.

Brown-hair rushed over and moved to stop her. "Oh no! Those things are ours now, for all the trouble you caused us."

Skye huffed. What an idiot! She couldn’t stop herself from turning on him. "Trouble? What trouble? I got your truck started, which was probably doing you a favor!" She ignored that only a moment ago she praised the vehicle’s engine. At her insult to the truck, both men instantly scowled.

"Ours," Brown-hair repeated shortly, leaning his face toward hers.

"Seriously? Don't start that idiotic behavior with me." Skye shouted, legs trembling as she held her ground. Oh man! Talk about throwing all my training out the window. "It's mine, it's always been mine, and it will continue to be mine."

"Uppity for a such a little girl, ain't ya?" Brown-hair said, chuckling at her reaction.

Skye rolled her eyes. She'd hadn't been called a little girl since she'd become an adult. "I'm not a little girl. And I'm done with this conversation. I need to leave here. Someone needs me."

"Anything anyone needs won't matter soon. Nothin matters no more, you're just wasting time," Dark-hair said.

"Don't say that! He's just a little boy!" Skye shook her head. "Even if that's true, whatever time he has left shouldn't be the way it's been. It should be--" she searched and failed to find the word she wanted before settling on one, "better."

Dark-hair took a half-step toward her, his gaze taking and holding hers, his deep voice turning gravelly. "Why? How's it been?"

Skye met his hard blue stare and gave him the direct answer he wanted. "Bad, really bad."

Immediately, the men stilled.

"Jesse hasn't had an appointment in a month. He tries so hard to be tough, but he is just a little boy. I need to get to him." Skye's voice broke. "I need to help him."

"How come you waited til now?"

"I helped him. I did. It was better for a while, and now--now I got word it's not. I've always done whatever I could, anything I could. I had people check on him. I called his school. I crossed lines. But see, now it doesn't matter, there are no more lines. You're right, now nothing matters." Skye's voice strengthened as she became more determined. "Now I can take him away from that man. No one will stop me."

"His dad?" Dark-hair asked, his voice cracking on the words.

"Yeah, his dad."

The men exchanged a glance, and Dark-hair didn't hesitate. "Get in the truck. We'll get the rest of your stuff."

"What? No!" Darting a wide-eyed gaze from one man to the other, she asked, "I mean, what are you saying?"

Dark-hair growled his irritation, "You want to get that boy?" He waved his arm toward the vehicle as he glared at her. "Get in the truck. Now."

Skye returned his scowl for a few seconds before she realized his anger was no longer directed at her. She turned and obediently climbed into the vehicle as she threw a glance over her shoulder at him.

Oh boy, please don't let this be a mistake.

* * *

Dylan climbed into the truck after the girl. As he started the vehicle, he looked her over again. With care, Skye had settled herself in the exact middle of the seat, then pushed some of her smooth, dark hair behind her ear.

She kept her eyes on the floor, the fight gone now a plan was in place. But Dylan remembered them. Those eyes blazed like green lightning when she was angry. Though her skin was several shades lighter than his, her color was up. Her natural rosy glow deepened telling him she was still uncomfortable.

Dylan tore his gaze from her and cleared his throat. He wasn't sure whether to be in shock or awe she could hot-wire his truck. Women like her were a mystery to him. Walking around like their biggest problem was their messed-up coffee order. He remembered all the times he'd seen her in town. Course she'd never noticed him. Then here she is tryin to take his truck.

Dylan rubbed the stubble on his jaw with a calloused hand. He'd treated her bad, he thought, but she'd taken him off guard. Soon as he'd realized who she was, there were--was something. He didn't know what to do with that.

His head was still spinning. 'Sides it's better not to get too close to anyone with people dropping like flies. He threw a glance her way and pressed his lips together. Keeping his distance would be hard.

Dylan could swear his mouth dropped open when he saw the woman slither, jeans first, from the floor of the truck onto the ground. He’d come to a complete stop when she stood, and he saw it was her.

Skye. Skye Jackson. Big shot doctor from Ohio. After Dylan saw her that first day in town, the sun had shone a little brighter, and he’d asked around Colton about her.

Her dad was from Colton. He'd married and brought his wife here, even started his family here, but moved to Ohio when his children were young, but she still had cousins in town.

The answers varied as to the exact time Skye came to Colton, but Dylan remembered the first time he saw her. And every time after that. Whenever he came to town, he searched for her.

He always found Skye. He reckoned he couldn't call himself much of a tracker if he hadn't. Besides, her routine didn't change much. Around two o'clock, she got coffee. Down the sidewalk, she would go, dressed in her best clothes. She'd click away on those high heels that pert, little nose just slightly higher in the air than it should be. Something about that challenged him, attracted him.

But there was another side to her too, because everyone liked her, every single person he'd talked to about her. So much so, that once they realized his interest, they clammed up.

Didn't want a Cole boy sniffing around her. They're probably right.

Dylan gave Skye one last glance before he turned his attention to his driving. Thinking about the task at hand, old memories of his own upbringing teased at the back of his mind, haunting him. He gripped the hard steering wheel tighter, then shook his head to clear it.

He hadn't been able to look at her when she teared up over the boy. If he didn't do anything else for her, he'd help her rescue this kid. For her and for the boy. Dylan looked at Skye sitting there with her hands in her lap, trusting them. That woman would've got nothing but hurt without us.

Dylan shot a glance over to his brother. Wade nodded. They agreed, they were gonna save that boy.

Twenty

Stalled

The weathered truck bounced down the pothole-filled road. Sandwiched between the two large men, Skye did feel like the little girl Brown-hair had called her.

And why am I in the middle, anyway?

Skye tried in vain to make herself even smaller. The men had ripped the sleeves from their t-shirts, so their smooth, powerful biceps and shoulders were bare. They were nice to peek at, but she tried to avoid contact with them.

I guess I should just be happy the dead carcasses are not sitting on my lap. For a moment, Skye swore Dark-hair had been thinking about bringing them into the cab of the truck. But after a brief hesitation and a regretful squint, he'd slung them into the back. Skye grimaced. Probably right on top of my stuff.

Since social skills didn't appear to be the men's strong suit, Skye took the lead in introductions with a nervous timbre to her voice. "I'm Skye Jackson from over near--."

Dark-hair stopped her. "Yeah, we know who you are."

"Oh, have we met before?" Secretly, Skye tried to observe the man. Now he’d calmed down, she could see how handsome he was. She was sure she would have remembered him. And the ridiculously broad shoulders her eyes played along, despite his somewhat tattered clothing. On top of those, the man had an energy about him she hadn't quite figured out, but it reminded her of something left on the stove at a simmer.

Dylan darted a look out the side window. "I seen ya around."

Skye twisted her bracelets round and round causing them to jingle. Well, that certainly clears things up. She nodded. "I moved here a couple of years ago. I'm Tom Jackson's cousin."

"The cop, right?"

"Um, yes."

Skye second-guessed her decision to get in the vehicle when the men exchanged glances above her head. What is that about? Are they some sort of mountaineer outlaws?

Since the men had yet to offer their names, Skye cleared her throat and prompted, "And you are?"

With offhanded tone and a wave of his hand, Brown-hair volunteered, "I'm Wade Cole, and this is my brother, Dylan."

"I can't thank you enough for the ride, Wade, and Dylan." Skye searched for a topic that would interest them. She figured out one and said, "So, is it hunting season? With bows?"

The brothers both turned to stare at her as if she was some kind of odd bug before returning their gaze to the windshield.

"Yeah, it's bow season," Wade said.

Skye glanced down at herself. Do I look like someone who would keep up with that? What do they keep mistaking me for someone who knows anything about hunting? Skye gave up trying to find a subject they had in common, her mind turning to Jesse, and they drove in silence.

Dylan grunted his approval that the small talk was over and sped along as fast as he could while missing the worst of the potholes. Wade stared out his side window.

At one of the endless stop signs, the truck sputtered, coughed, and stopped.

Another delay was more than Skye could take. "Piece of junk," she muttered under her breath, frowning. She bit her lip when she realized they heard her. Don't insult their stuff.

"Hey! Watch it!" Dylan growled at Skye, taking the affront to heart. He scowled at her, his blue eyes darkening with disapproval. "It's just stalled."

Dylan half-hung over the steering wheel as he twisted the key a few times, getting nothing but more sputters. Skye stared at the ignition, willing it to work. She waited, her body winding tighter and tighter, as he turned it a fourth, a fifth and a sixth time.

"I'm sorry, but I can't wait until you get it started. Excuse me." Neither of the men moved when she scooted closer to them on the seat indicating she wanted to leave.

Dylan paid her no attention as he worked, without success, on getting the truck started. Wade stared at his window, tapping his finger along it as he chased down a small, leggy bug.

"Please let me out of the truck." Jesse's house wasn't far from here. She would go back to her original plan of waiting outside the house until he came out.

The men continued to dismiss her, and a wisp of fear went through her as worry transferred from Jesse to herself. She had gotten in this truck with strangers, and she knew better. Skye looked at them again, their muscular bodies, their hard expressions, their many weapons. She bit the inside of her lip. Her alarm over Jesse had led her to do something foolish.

Panic edged her voice. "Let me out now." She gave each a hard nudge, but rock-like, neither brother moved.

Dylan turned toward her and raised an eyebrow. "Just where do ya think you're going?"

Skye's stomach lurched, but a second glance to his face showed no threat. She let out a slow breath. Regardless, perhaps it was best to go now. "Dylan, I told you where I'm going. Now let me out."

"Yeah, well, when you can get past us, you can get out. For now, you're stuck right here."

Skye's eyes widened despite her efforts to stay calm. Oh, excellent! The world is turning into a nightmare, and I'm either stuck with two of the bossiest men I've ever met or being kidnapped. She glanced over her shoulder wondering if she could fit through the truck's small slider window.

"'Sides it's gonna start. It always does."

Skye opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment, the truck fired up. Dylan gave her a triumphant glance that said he knew all along what he was doing. Skye rolled her eyes both at his haughty gaze, and the fact she was indeed stuck now. He ignored her irritation. Instead, he let a smirk curve one side of his mouth as he put the vehicle in gear and took off down the bumpy road.

Twenty-One

This Part

Skye's heart raced faster the closer they got to Jesse’s house. "Here," she said when the property came into view.

When Dylan stopped the truck, the three looked over what had once been a driveway but now seemed more like an overgrown dirt path through the trees. The only item marking it was a weathered, rusty mailbox leaning half-way over a grassy ditch, the address painted in white, uneven letters. Skye wondered if a younger Jesse drew on the postbox, or a drunk Frankie.

Tension built in the two men as they pulled in the drive. They were on alert. The strain was contagious and caused Skye's throat to dry.

Dylan eased the vehicle down the long driveway. Skye clenched the edge of the seat impatient to get to the end. She bit her lips together as Dylan halted the truck a short distance from the house and parked, then scanned the forested property.

Skye didn't see much change since the last time she visited, except perhaps, for a few more pieces of garbage in the yard. Frankie's home was little more than a falling-down wooden shack with bits of white paint claiming better days. Scavengers had devoured any food thrown out leaving containers and bottles in the sparse grass. To a passer-by, it would have seemed another derelict property, but Skye knew what this house was. A shiver trailed her spine. And what happened here.

Skye scooted up on her seat. "Let's go."

"You're staying here. We gotta make sure things are okay," Dylan said.

"They are okay. No one is out here."

"He could have a gun. There could be dogs. We don't know what we're gettin into here."

Skye stared at Dylan. "Let me out."

Dylan continued to watch the house and yard without acknowledging her.

"You don't have to help with this part," Skye said.

Dylan snorted. “I know Frankie too.” He opened his door and got out of the car, watching for any movement as he did so.

Skye shot him a look. That wasn’t all that surprising. It was a small town. She hopped out, and squeezed around him, heading toward the door.

"Slow down," Dylan warned. Skye's only wish was to get to Jesse. If I go faster, maybe they will too. Frankie won't give me any trouble with these two standing behind me.

Skye walked the mud sidewalk to the front door. A dull smacking thud she couldn't place came to her from inside. It sounded again and again. Then a muffled cry.

Skye stumbled to a stop. It was the heavy smack of a leather belt on exposed skin.

Nauseous, Skye put a hand to her stomach and ran for the door. Jesse! The poor, poor boy! Dylan and Wade's feet thudded up the sidewalk behind her.

Conflicted emotions played across Wade's face. "This is a family matter. Best leave it alone."

Skye had no response for him but turned to Dylan. His pained expression told her he understood precisely what was going on here.

Dylan gave Skye a reassuring nod. "I'm with ya." Wade followed his brother's lead.

The front door stood ajar a few inches. Skye jerked it open the rest of the way. Her stomach quivered when she caught sight of Jesse.

He huddled against the wall, cringing in anticipation of the next blow. His shirtless body half-turned from his father to help shield himself from the attack. His skinny arm raised as if he could ward off the strike.

Frankie towered over the boy. He took another swig from the near-empty whiskey bottle he held in one hand before raising the belt again with the other. Unmoved by the welts already swelling on his son's body from this beating and the solid purple bruising remaining from the last one, Frankie staggered toward Jesse.

Skye hauled in a long, shuddering breath, as her heart exploded with pity, sorrow and rage.

Her vision became murky. Her chest ached, and soon fury was the only emotion she felt. She had never felt true rage before, certainly nothing close to this.

It fueled her as she stormed toward Frankie.

"Stop. Wait," Dylan hissed behind her, "I said stop!" The air stirred beside Skye's shoulder as his hand missed catching her.

Skye would not be stopped. She had fought for children her whole life from a chair, an office. Now she was face to face with the abuse, she would fight harder. Her muscles tightened, alert and ready.

Focused on whipping his son, Frankie was unaware of the trio invading his home. He raised the belt for another blow, twisting it in his fist as he sought a firmer grip.

Without conscious thought, Skye moved in.

Stepping behind Frankie, Skye reached up as his grip loosened on the band. The strap cracked against her palm. She gasped in pain but managed to wrap her fingers around the leather strip. Skye yanked it from Frankie's grasp.

Quicker than Skye would have imagined possible, she turned and pulled a startled Jesse from the floor. She grabbed his hand and ran, dragging him beside her. She didn't get far.

Surprised, but always ready for a fight, Frankie swung toward her. His muscles bunched, and his angry face reddened as the man launched himself at Skye.

One of his hands seized the back of her neck. Another went around her waist. His fingers gouged the soft area under her ribs.

Rage still boiled Skye's blood, but now panic edged it as Frankie yanked her backward. Skye gasped and reacted. Frankie's belt was still in her hand. She gripped it so fiercely the leather edges curled.

Skye released Jesse and let Frankie pull her in. Then she turned and raised her arm high. With every bit of anger and strength she had, Skye lashed the leather strap at him.

Buckle end hit Frankie full in the face. The crunch of bone and cartilage sounded around them. Blood poured from his nose and cheek, running down his neck.

Skye froze at the sight of what she had done.

Frankie fell back but was quick to regain his footing. He grabbed at Skye again.

Wade howled, “Move!" His voice reverberated on the bare walls. Skye responded. Turning toward the door, she pulled Jesse along with her.

She arched her back as Frankie's hand scraped across it.

"Come on, Jesse, run!" With wide eyes and shaking legs, Skye and Jesse made it to the front door where Dylan pushed them past the threshold. Skye shot a wild look up at him to find his eyes boring into hers.

Skye glanced over her shoulder. Dylan took several large steps, pushing his gun to Frankie's head as he growled, "Whoa, Whoa, Whoa! Ya better stop right there, if you know what's good for you."

Skye sagged with relief. They were safe.

Twenty-Two

The Temper of Dylan

As Skye and Jesse ran for the truck, the men stayed back to make sure Frankie wouldn't follow. Skye wasn't sure how they would do that until the sound of fists against flesh came from the house.

She hesitated as she reached toward Jesse's quaking body. Skye felt dizzy and numb. She couldn't imagine how the encounter affected him. Though Jesse didn't lean into her, he accepted her touch.

"It's okay now, Jesse. You're safe, it's all over," Skye said with a gentle whisper. His eyes wide, Jesse glanced back over his shoulder a few times. When he didn't see his father following, his shaking slowed.

With a bowed head, Jesse asked, "Are they beatin on my dad in there?"

Skye winced and shot a look toward the house. "I believe they are."

"Can't say I’m sorry about it."

Skye brushed the hair from his eyes. "You don't have to be. Not today."

After getting him settled in the truck's cab, Skye stood on the running boards and fished around the truck bed for her backpack. It held a first aid kit, food, and water. She had packed it for any need Jesse would have.

Of course, it had to be in the middle, covered with camping supplies. Spying a strap, Skye grasped it and pulled. When she almost slipped from her perch, she grabbed onto the side of the truck to steady herself.

Busy at her task, Skye heard vague "Hey!", but paid no attention to it.

"I said Hey!" Dylan said louder as he stormed toward her.

Skye twisted toward him, her heart sinking when she saw his angry face.

"What is wrong with you, girl?"

Unable to avoid facing him, Skye raised her eyes to meet Dylan's turbulent dark blue stare. Uh-oh.

Skye teetered uncertainly on the running board. Dylan reached out and grabbed her arm. When she stumbled backward, he took her other one. With his hands wrapped tight around both Skye’s upper arms, he set her down and righted her causing a flicker of a memory.

She glanced at his face. As angry as he was, she had expected him to be rougher. Just as quick as he had put his hands on her, they were gone.

Skye licked her dry lips. "What do you--."

"What kinda half-wit, fool-hardy move was that?" Dylan scowled at Skye. Her thoughtless actions could have put them all in danger if the situation had been any different.

Still agitated after the encounter with Frankie, Dylan's angry words irritated Skye. Besides that, now she was on the ground, he seemed to tower over her. She didn't like that, the way he tried to use his size to intimidate her. She took a step back only to bump into the vehicle. "Excuse me?"

"Did ya not hear me in there?" His arm made a wide arc at the house. "I said stop. Did ya hear me say stop?"

"Please, I don’t want to upset Jesse.“ Skye said as she nodded Jesse's way. She took a few steps to the back of the truck with Dylan on her heels. She needn’t have worried. Jesse would hardly think this qualified as an argument.

Skye took a breath and smoothed her face as she began her explanation. "Yes, but I couldn't stop. I had too--"

Again, Dylan interrupted her, his accent thickening the angrier he became. He laid a hand on the tailgate beside her and snarled, "Ya got any clue what coulda happened in there? To Jesse? To you? Ya don't know nothin. When I say somethin, ya listen."

The man's indignation caused her anxiety to build. But something bold and strong flickered in Skye. She pushed herself to her tiptoes and said, "Um, excuse me but no! I needed to get Jesse out of there. That is all I thought about, and I'd do it again."

Thrown by her resistance, Dylan's eyes widened, and he stepped back. Dylan narrowed his eyes. "Ya asked for help, then ignore what I say. What ya did was dangerous!"

“All I asked from you was a ride!"

"You need a lot more'n a ride, lady!" Dylan's breath fanned across her face before he made an abrupt turn and headed for the cab. He tipped his head toward the truck and threw out one last order over his shoulder. "Ya better get your tail on that seat 'fore I leave ya."

Skye rolled her eyes behind his back as she moved toward the front of the vehicle. She ran a hand down the red truck as she walked, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself.

She had dealt with angry people many, many times. If the children weren't angry, their parents often were. It was her job to be the calm in the center of the storm. Or sometimes storms. And let's count them today. One, two, three.

Skye glanced at Dylan as she moved to the passenger's side, her stomach still knotted from their encounter. He is the owner of one very quick, boiling temper. It surprised him I didn't fold at once. A lot of people must bend to the temper of Dylan.

It wasn't the only thing she'd noticed about him and his brother. As glad as she was for their help, their faults were piling up against them. The two large men were loaded with weapons and anger issues.

That is frightening in a normal world, and nothing is normal now. I don't know these men, I only met them a couple hours ago! They could be capable of anything. This just doesn't work, especially given Jesse's fragile state. Skye bit her cheek and calmed her nerves by reminding herself that she and Jesse would be on their way soon. This time tomorrow, we'll be sitting on Mom and Dad's back porch sipping tea.

As Skye got in the truck, Dylan sat in the driver's seat picking at his battered hands. He ignored her as she settled herself beside Jesse. She looked away. She wanted to use the men’s beating of Frankie as more evidence in her case against them, but she knew that wasn't fair.

Dylan had gotten those bloody knuckles helping her. Her only emotions were relief he had been there and guilt he was hurt saving her and Jesse.

Skye set her backpack between her feet and reached in it. "Here, I have a small med kit. Do you want something from it?"

"No."

Skye looked from Dylan to the kit and back again. He was clearly still steaming. In fact, he was tearing at the skin of his hands with more force since she'd spoken to him. Man, can I say or do nothing right for this guy? Skye gently laid the first aid kit on the dashboard and turned to pile a few items of food between her and Jesse.

Wade's head popped in through the back window to the bed of the truck, where he was settling in for the ride. His hungry gaze took in Skye's moderate offering.

"Hey, watcha got there?" he said. "A little food? I could use some." It surprised Skye that she could tense any further, but she did. His voice needled her.

"I'm getting food out for Jesse," she said. Her words came sharper and quicker than she intended. For some reason she didn't yet understand, Wade annoyed her.

"You got something for me?"

No. You wanted to leave Jesse there. She avoided looking at Wade and continued to pile stuff on the bench. “Sure.”

"Good," he said, as he reached down to her pile and rifled through it.

Skye pushed Wade's hand away from the packages. "Let Jesse choose first."

"Sure thing." Wade accepted her request and waited until Jesse took one, then grabbed a handful and pulled them up through the window. He uttered a loud, long laugh at his haul and Skye’s obvious displeasure.

"That was a lot!" Skye said.

"Are you really gonna hold back on us? After everything we helped you with? Truckin ya all the way over here? Helping with the boy and all?"

"You didn't want to help."

Wade hung his head. "I did. It's just—Well, nobody ever helps with that sort of thing."

"If that is the case, then they are wrong." Her eyes flashed with the fire of her conviction. "Everyone should help with that sort of thing."

"So, you want your food back?"

She sighed, upset now more with herself than him. Wade was right, most people avoided helping with domestic situations. But there was no denying that in the end, he'd helped get Jesse, the least she could do is share a few snacks. "No, of course not. Take something if you're hungry. Give Dylan some too."

As Wade and Dylan snatched up the food, Skye scolded herself. Why do I let their high-handed attitudes get to me so much? It's not like I'll be with them much longer. I can handle it.

As the men devoured the food, she turned her attention to the boy. "Jesse, is there anything from the house you want or need?"

Decisive, he said, "Nah. I just want away."

"Are you sure? Nothing, Jesse? We may not be back for a while."

Dylan gave Skye a sidelong stare that said, "You think we're coming back here?” But it was important to leave that door open for Jesse. Skye didn't want him to get upset about leaving when that is what they needed to do.

"No, I ain't got nothin in there I want or need. The place is a dump." Jesse said.

Dylan tipped his head toward Jesse and gave him a wink while he gunned the truck. "We're gonna git gone then."

"Yeah!" Jesse replied with a small grin. Skye smiled. There is nothing like the sound of a loud engine to perk a boy right up.

As Dylan drove, Skye continued to fuss over Jesse asking whether anything felt odd or broken and if the old wounds had been healing well.

Jesse went along with all her questions until she pulled at the back of his shirt to look over any new cuts. He strongly objected and scooted from her. Skye stopped, but Jesse still kept his head tucked away from her.

Dylan spoke to Jesse in such a tender voice Skye looked at him in surprise.

"I know, boy," Dylan said, "I do. But you don't want them gettin infected. Let her look 'em over."

Perhaps because Dylan's usual way was to grind out words, his advice made an impression on Jesse. While he still didn't like it her examination, he no longer fought her.

Skye's heart hung in her chest as she examined Jesse's bruised and welted back. But she was happy to see most of the marks should disappear within a couple of weeks.

Dylan scrutinized every move Skye made tending Jesse. Clearly, this level of kind attention was something foreign to him. His eyes lingered on her soothing hand as it brushed back Jesse's hair, on the boy's small nods to her caring questions and on Jesse's content face when the boy laid his head against Skye's shoulder.

Once Jesse was quiet, Skye looked at Dylan from under her lashes. From the beginning, she'd known the men had a rough childhood. Their behavior, along with the numerous faded burn scars on their arms and shoulders from lit cigarettes, was a dead giveaway.

But the sadness in Dylan's eyes haunted her. He didn't know what it felt like to have someone love him enough to care for him. Skye wondered if his upbringing had been even more grim than she'd already assumed.

She watched the first aid kit rattle along the dash of the truck wishing she could turn back time and tend to his injuries.

Twenty-Three

Had To

Jesse raised his forehead from Skye's arm and wiggled back into his spot. Skye handed him a bottle of water. He drank a few sips. But when she gave Jesse the apple he'd chosen from the snack pile, he laid on the seat beside him. Skye picked it up and gave it back to him.

"I ain't hungry," Jesse said as he grimaced and pushed at his upset stomach.

Given everything that took place today, it didn't surprise her. But Jesse was so much thinner than the last time Skye had seen him, and it was hard to believe he wasn’t ravenous.

"Jesse, please eat something," she pleaded, "try a few bites."

Instead, Jesse changed the subject. He threw a suspicious eye at Dylan. "Who are you?"

Dylan eyed him back before the side of his mouth twitched. "Dylan. Dylan Cole."

"My dad knows you."

"Yep."

"He says you're a--"

Dylan coughed loudly. "Yeah, I know what he thinks. I don't see him all that different."

When Jesse continued to give Dylan a hard glare, Skye said, "Dylan's on your side, Jesse."

Jesse grunted and turned to Skye. He tilted his head to the side and asked, "Why d'ya come here?"

Skye shot him a glance before turning her gaze to the window and wished she would have let him continue interrogating Dylan. She tried to calm the tremors in her stomach. "You want to discuss this now? We can wait a little to do that if you'd like."

His brow creased as he gave a small shake of his head. "I wanna know now."

This was the moment Skye dreaded from the birth of her plan. Of course he would ask, and what does one tell an adolescent in this situation? Your dad is a no-account, excuse of a man. So I decided that I would take you away from him?

No matter what story she came up with, it didn’t sound credible, even to her. Skye released her lip from the hold her teeth had on it and cleared her throat. She stuck with the best she had. The truth.

"Remember my friend, Tricia, I told you about?" Skye said and Jesse nodded. "Well, her mom lives near you."

"Yeah. She makes the good pies."

"Yes, she does." Skye smiled. She'd tasted her baked goods. There was no doubt the boy was right. "Well, she got word to Tricia that you were in trouble here. And Tricia told me because I confided to her how important your welfare was to me. And it is, Jesse, it is so important." Skye's voice quivered the tiniest bit.

She peered at the blur of trees going by before looking back at Jesse. "After she told me, I checked of all the options there were to get you out of that situation. But because of the sickness, all the normal ways of helping you were gone. I realized there was one option. Me. After everything we have been through, you and me, I had to get you away from there. No matter what." Hoping he wouldn't shy away from her in his current mood, Skye slowly brought her hand up and smoothed his thick hair.

Jesse's eyes tracked her hand, but he allowed it. Something eased in him when she stroked his hair. It soothed him.

"We've had this discussion before, Jesse." Skye’s voice came soft but determined. "I know Frankie is your dad, and you love him. But no one, and I mean no one, has any right to treat another person like that. Ever. And I wasn't able sit on my couch and be okay knowing what was happening to you. I had to come get you." Her eyes locked with his. "I hope you are good with that."

Jesse stared at the truck floor and mumbled to himself, "Don't know bout all that. Seems to me a lot of people think they can go beatin on others. But I know I don't like it." Jesse's brow crinkled again, and he said to Skye, "It was dangerous. You could've got hurt."

Skye's hand moved to sit lightly on Jesse's shoulder, as she locked eyes with him. "It didn't matter. I had to. I had to keep you safe."

Tears flooded Jesse's eyes as he acknowledged that someone cared enough to save him. She cared. Jesse lowered his head and scrubbed the tears away. He took the conversation in a new direction. "I've never seen you outside the office before. It's weird."

Skye smiled. "Yeah," she said, continuing to let him direct the discussion. She was content to know she had answered the question to his satisfaction. He was okay for now.

His gaze dropped, then he glanced out the window and hesitated. Hope tinging his voice, he said, "Am I living with you now then?"

Skye lowered her face to his. "Yeah, you're living with me now then."

Jesse gave her his small, lopsided grin, which was the best he ever did. "Yeah," he repeated.

Skye's face lit up. He was more than okay. He's good with it.

Jesse tipped his head toward Dylan, then Wade. "So, you know these guys?"

Skye wiggled in her seat. "Well, I do now."

"How?"

Skye cleared her throat. "I met them today, on my way to get you."

"On the road? You met them on the side of the road?" Jesse rolled his eyes.

"Jesse, it was extenuating circumstances..." Skye's voice trailed off.

Jesse scoffed and shook his head. Even he knew better than to get in a car with strangers.

Twenty-Four

Did Alright

Dylan hadn't been surprised at all when Skye had directed him to Frankie's house, and he couldn’t say he was all that upset about it. It was always a good day when he got one over on Frankie.

But then everything went sideways. The woman just does not listen, but I got too riled up. Dylan ran a hand over his face and shot her a look as he cursed himself. But she would've got hurt. I know what he can do.

Dylan had listened to Skye and Jesse’s exchange. He understood this kid more than he wished he did. His throat tightened as he glanced at the boy. It's like seein myself at that age.

Jesse let out a long sigh and laid his small body back in the seat as if it had been a long time since he’d relaxed. Dylan knew the feeling. It took a lot for a someone like Jesse, like him, to feel as though he was on solid ground.

It's plain what she did for the boy isn't normal for her. He knows it too. He feels safe with her, trusts her. She's right for him. Dylan's gaze moved from the boy's matted hair and dirty face to Skye's clean, neat one before going back to the road. The girl's a lot tougher than I gave her credit for.

From the day Dylan had seen her, he had tried to dismiss her as high heels and fingernail polish, but he could no longer ignore she was more than that. His gaze swept her jeans and t-shirt. Like this she looks different, more... real somehow than when she's all got up.

She'd surprised him today, really surprised him. That didn't happen much. Dylan raised his hand to his chin, he gave it a quick rub. Wouldn't've guessed she had somethin like that in her. But what was she doin messing with a guy like Frankie all by herself? One solid punch from him would send her flying across the room. Dylan scoffed. Good thing we came along.

Dylan heard a small gasp come from Skye's side of the truck. He looked over in time to catch her brushing tears away. Woman, don't let him see you crying, he'll think it's pity. You'll undo half the good you done.

She turned her face toward the side window. Dylan made a little grunt of approval.

After a few minutes, Skye collected herself, and searched the darkening terrain. With a suspicious tone, she asked, "Where are we heading?"

"Out to our cabin."

The small crease in her brow grew, and her hand tightened on the truck's door. "Why aren't we going back to my car?"

"Your car's out of gas, and there's no time to get it before dark. 'Sides it'd be harder to see what going on around us now. Reckoned we could get the car situated tomorrow. You don't want to go off all by yourself at night, do ya?" Dylan looked at Skye's clenched hand and tipped his head toward it. "You're good with us. Ya know that, right?"

There was a slight hesitation before she nodded her head. Color flooded her cheeks, "Yes, yes, I do." With a quick jerk, she moved her hand to her lap. "Yes, that makes sense. I just— no, it makes sense."

"Besides, there's less people on up our way. We know who's been Sick, who might be roamin about."

Skye agreed. After picking at her hand a moment, she asked, "Have you had many get Sick?”

"Most. Me and Wade, we only got a little cold. Not real sick. Scared us... uh, senseless though. After that, we stuck to the woods, always been the safest place to be anyways."

"Me too. Well, not the woods part. The little cold part. But it wasn't really a little cold," Skye twisted her fingers in her lap as she chattered. “I really did think I was going to die. I couldn't breathe, like, at all. One minute longer, and I would've been a goner. Everyone says if you get it, you die. So I thought, 'Well, this is it'. But I got better. And really, some people are bound to be immune."

Dylan held in a chuckle as she flustered through her story. He wasn't sure she was breathing now.

Skye took a deep breath and eyed the gun rack spanning the back window behind her. "You seem to have a lot of weapons."

It surprised Dylan she kept bringing this up. Where does this girl think she lives? "Yeah, of course. And under the seat." Several hard knocks sounded underneath her when the truck bounced out of a large dip in the road.

"Oh, that's what those are. So this truck is like a rolling arsenal?"

"Just about." Dylan dragged the words out. "That a problem for you?"

"Well, I don't think most people carry this many weapons around."

What do I say to that? Is she blind? There's more trucks with gun racks than not. At first, Dylan offered no answer but came back with, "Depends on who ya know."

Skye raised her eyebrow, then offered a broad smile, flashing him a dimple. "Well, I'm very grateful you're who I know. Thank you for helping me get Jesse."

Dylan swallowed and coughed. He could count on one hand the amount of times he'd heard a thank you. "No problem." It came out gruffer than he intended.

Skye looked away for a moment, then turned back to him. "You were right. I needed more help than I thought I would. I had a plan. I did, but well... that didn't work."

This time Dylan softened his voice. "You did all right."

Skye smiled. "Yeah? Well, thanks." She grew serious. "I don't like that I hurt someone... but... well, it is what it is. I did what I had to, right?"

"You did."

Skye coughed and picked at the seam in her jeans before looking up at Dylan. "I don't know how you will take this, but if I could make one small suggestion. If we have another... difference of opinion, perhaps we could... just talk about it. Instead of, well, yelling. I'm better with a calm discussion."

Dylan flushed. I knew I went too far. He was quiet for a minute as Skye continued to shoot him looks and fidget. There was more than one way he could take this. Go his normal route and let his temper rule or try something new with her, for her.

He raised an eyebrow as his mouth twitched. "Who was yellin?"

A small tremor shook Skye's voice despite her bold words. "You. You were yelling."

"I wasn't yellin. I was instructing."

Dylan almost burst out laughing when Skye's mouth dropped, and she stared at him for a minute. "You didn't consider that yelling?"

Dylan shrugged the shoulder closest to her. "Not much."

"Okay, well... maybe try instructing with less volume and force. Would that work? It would be a little less... alarming."

Dylan snorted. "I can try, but I can't say you seemed all that alarmed. You were holdin your own."

"Was I? That's good."

Unable to hold in his amusement over her discomfort any longer, Dylan uttered a low chuckle. Skye looked over at him and added her light laugh to his deeper one.

Yeah, she did all right.

The cab got quiet as they drove, but that was okay. Dylan felt something building inside him. Something he'd rarely experienced in his life. He shifted to high beams to see the dark road better and put a hand to his chest. He felt happy.

Twenty-Five

The Cabin

Staying overnight at a stranger's house was not something Skye made a habit of doing. Surprised and uneasy about it from the moment Dylan suggested it, she had almost rejected it out of hand. Skye glanced at Dylan before returning her eyes to the window. I don't know these men, and they scare me, more than a little if I'm honest about it.

But Skye had tossed the idea around. On one hand, he was right. It could be, probably was, dangerous to be out after dark, and she was certain she didn't want to start her trip to Ohio now. On the other, the two men were strangers. Although, if they planned on hurting her or Jesse, they'd already had plenty of opportunities. And they had helped rescue Jesse, so that was a massive plus for them. They didn't need to do that, not at all.

She supposed that it was okay, that their intentions were fine, but her mind kept coming back to the fact that she didn't know what kind of men they were. And they were taking her into the dark, to some unknown place in what seemed to be in the opposite direction of her car and her path home. But she wasn't even sure of that, she was so lost.

Skye's heart raced when Dylan pulled off the road. The truck rocked as it bumped over the shallow ditch. The headlights lit up nothing but grass and trees. She leaned forward and peered into the darkness looking for a house.

Dylan seemed to be going up a grassy path as it a bit smoother than the rest of the field looked. Once they made it to the tree line, she saw a break in the forest. Turning into it, some areas were so narrow, the truck's mirrors almost brushed against the trees.

What have I done?

Skye was almost hyperventilating before Dylan noticed her distress. He reached out a hand and grabbed at her arm, but she jerked away and pulled a sleeping Jesse closer to her.

"Hey," Dylan reassured her again, ”I said you're okay."

Skye turned her pale face to him and snapped out, "Oh yeah? Then where are you taking us?"

"To our cabin. Our cabin is up here."

Skye punched her finger toward the dark path. "Up here? There is literally nothing up here."

"Yeah, that's the point."

Skye barked out a hard laugh and ran her hand over her hair. "That is my fear."

Dylan shook his head. "Stop it. You're okay."

But all she could imagine was a rough, broken-down cabin with outbuildings filled with rotting animal carcasses and who knew what else. So when the lights fell on the Cole's little home, she was more than relieved, she was pleasantly surprised.

It probably had started out as a dilapidated cabin but was now fixed up and cared for. Although small, it seemed a sturdy structure. Off the grid, two solar panels provided electricity, and the roof's skylight would brighten the place during the day. Cords of chopped wood laid stacked on the deck and along the edge of the cleaned forest line. A big stone chimney ran up the outer wall of the cabin. A small, welcoming light peeking through one of the two front windows under a small front porch brought a smile to Skye's face.

Whatever I had been expecting, it was not this.

After seeing Skye's expression turn from terror to relief, Dylan said, "See? You settled now?"

"Still, could you be any further out?" Skye griped at him, still disturbed by the isolated drive back here.

"Probably, but we didn't look."

Skye rolled her eyes. "Oh, so you just stumbled upon this. Out here? In this wilderness?"

"Yeah."

"I can't even begin to understand your life."

Dylan grunted his agreement. He eyed his cabin and said, "I know you're used to more. It ain't much, but it's what we got." Somehow both apology and pride filled his voice.

Skye was used to more, but she wondered how he was so sure of that. Her father was from this area and claimed he'd lived a simple life, but she'd seen no evidence of that. Also, she had to acknowledge that her grandfather on her mother's side would be mortified, perhaps even horrified, that she would have stepped foot in such a place.

But Skye didn't feel that way. It was clean, pleasant and welcoming. And considering her situation, a godsend. Now she'd calmed down, she was eager to relax for the evening.

"I like it. I like it very much." Even if she hadn't, after insulting his truck, Skye certainly would not offend his house.

Dylan looked at her as if he was trying to gauge her sincerity. Skye shot him a little smile and then turned to wake Jesse.

"Don't," Dylan said putting out a hand.

"I want to get him in the house."

"I'll carry him."

Skye frowned. "He's heavy."

"Pfft." Dylan shot her a glance and shook his head. "You think I can't carry him?"

I'm getting the look again. The one that says I can't possibly mean what's coming from my mouth.

Dylan reached into the truck and as gentle as possible lifted Jesse. There was a slight stir from the boy, but he continued to sleep.

"No, I know you can do it. I only thought..."

With a sigh, Dylan said, "Woman, stop."

Still unsure how she felt about his manner, Skye stopped and stared at him.

Dylan raised an eyebrow. "Hey, I'm tryin to instruct with less volume and force."

Skye puffed out a little breath, stirring her hair. I can't stand in the way of the very thing I asked him to do.

"Well, don't let me prevent that!" Skye uttered a small laugh and waved him on. "Thank you."

Wade jumped out of the back of the truck, his feet hitting the ground with a thud. He ran ahead to open the front door. Dylan walked through and laid Jesse on one of the two double beds that sat in an alcove on the left side of the cabin. The whole place was one open room except for what Skye hoped was a bathroom. Please, please don't have an outhouse!

The wood-planked front door opened to a small living room area. The kitchen sat directly behind it, a long countertop covering most of the back wall. Cabinets were a hodgepodge of different colors and ages but somehow seemed perfect for the cabin. Between the two rooms was a small, rugged table and chairs that served as a dining area.

Everything possible was wood or stone. The floors were oak-colored as were three of the walls. The fourth was both wood and stone. In the large stone area that covered the same wall as the chimney outside sat a wood-burning stove.

Definitely a man's space. Solid and steady, just like they seem to be. The thought surprised her. It appeared her instincts about the men were right even if her anxiety got in the way. Of course, her nervous side had a parting shot for her. Well, if you're still alive in the morning, then we'll see. Skye shook her head to get rid of the doubtful voice.

Skye sent Wade a questioning look when Dylan walked out the front door and closed it without a word.

"Dylan's first watch," he said. "He's checking out the house and seeing if anybody's been sniffin around. We started since all the--you know..."

Skye nodded, then grimaced as her stomach rumbled loud enough for Wade to hear it and snicker. "Should I make something?" she said a note of hope in her voice.

"Do whatever you want." Wade waved his arm toward the kitchen. "You can have what you'd like over there.“

"Over there" was a long card table loaded with a variety of snack foods. Skye walked over and sorted through the choices. Every kind of potato chip known to humankind seemed to be there, also the inevitable pork rinds in various flavors and jerky out of meat she wasn't aware it was possible to jerk. Lined up in jars was every pickled item she had ever heard of, and then some, including the obligatory pickled eggs and, ugh, she thought, pickled pig's feet. This is like a man's snack food smorgasbord. She chuckled. Of course.

Skye found trying to pick through the best of the worst food on earth was difficult, but she figured she could handle some pickled beets. After dishing out some, she headed to the fridge.

The refrigerator was a treat of its own. First and third shelves were, it seemed, exclusive to beer.

The middle shelf held actual food. A carton of eggs, butcher's paper wrapped around, she presumed, meat or cheese. The few condiments on the door included a variety of hot sauces and a pitcher of tea, milk and a few other essentials.

More man food. Not a lettuce leaf to be found. But one thing is for sure, they won't go hungry anytime soon even if this is all they have to sustain themselves.

Head still in the refrigerator, Wade's voice drifted to her. "If I wasn't so dang tired, I wouldn't mind you cookin up that rabbit Dylan threw in there."

"What?" Her word echoed on the white, cold walls. Skye picked at the butcher's paper until she could see the red muscled foot of a rabbit. Wide-eyed, she rose too soon and bumped her head on the door of the fridge in her effort to stand. Once free of the door, she held the back of her head. "I don't know how to cook rabbit from—from that."

"Um, shame." Wade looked confused, shook his head and fell onto the couch. "Well, maybe we can teach you."

Lord, I hope not. I like meat to seem less like animal. Skye rubbed the sore spot on her skull. "I'm leaving in the morning, so I probably won't have time."

"Where are ya going in such an all-fired hurry?"

Skye made her way to the living room carrying her beets and a piece of cheese. She sat in one of the two chairs opposite the couch. Although both showed wear, Skye couldn't complain about comfort. She sank into the recliner and sighed. "To my parent's in Ohio. It's about five hours to get there, and I want to get started before things get worse."

"Why are you thinkin it's safe now?"

Wade's question made Skye squirm. "I'm aware there could be many people on the street, trying to get who knows where. And that others are taking advantage of the situation, but we still have some structure. Phones, electricity, and water are on for now, though the services are spotty. People are going to their jobs, or helping out, where possible. I don't think things are totally out of control yet. I'm hoping they won't get that way."

Wade eyed her for a minute and grunted something that sounded like 'dreamer.' Abruptly, he turned and settled on the couch, and within thirty-seconds, he was snoring. Skye scoffed. She didn't fall asleep in thirty-seconds on her best day. How could he do that?

She picked at her food until it was gone, then checked out the bathroom. Although there were compromises since they were off the grid, it was more or less a regular restroom complete with a shower she hoped to use in the morning.

Skye wandered back to the sleeping alcove and over to the double beds. She pulled the covers over Jesse's shoulder and pushed his hair back. He hauled in a noisy breath. He was a snorer already. She sat on the bed opposite of his, took off her shoes and rolled under the sheets. Skye gave a deep yawn concerned the two snoring males would hinder a restful night. She needn't have worried, she was asleep almost as quickly as Wade.

Twenty-Six

Sorry

By morning, Skye was still so tired she needed to wrestle herself out of bed. Her tangled hair a testament to her restless sleep, her nightmares filled with repeated scenes of the previous day. What she had done was so out of character even her dreams couldn't reconcile it.

Now she was awake, her groggy mind pushed the reminders away. Stealing a child and bashing his father in the face in front of him with all her might wouldn't be something she'd find peace with anytime soon.

Skye groaned as she got out of bed. Yesterday's tense muscles now seemed frozen in place, and Frankie's rough treatment had left sore spots. She raised the bottom of her shirt to find purple bruises covering the side of her belly.

She brushed her hand across the area and winced. Skye looked toward the kitchen accidentally catching Dylan's eye. He looked at her stomach, and his jaw clenched. He is angry again, but this time, not at me.

"You okay?" Jesse asked in a sleepy voice as he peeked up at her from under his covers.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just fine."

He hung his head. “Sorry my dad did that."

Skye sat on Jesse's bed beside him. "Me too. But it's not your fault, and it will go away quick enough." She smiled and tossed his hair. "Hungry?"

Skye breathed in the aroma of coffee swirling around her with the frantic relief only a true coffee lover experiences. Anticipation built as she stumbled into the kitchen, pleased to find a steaming cup waiting for her at the table. Jesse sat beside her, his head over his cup, inhaling the steam.

The men were cranky this morning. The early morning beer they had apparently consumed, if the cans on the sink top were any indication, had not perked them up and they were now on to coffee. Wade leaned against the counter as he drank his while Dylan ruffled through the chip table holding his mug.

Wade started it. Given the mood of the room, someone was bound to, and Skye couldn’t say it surprised her it was Wade. Not that Dylan couldn't start trouble, as she'd already seen, but he seemed to need a reason first. Both were scowling.

Wade did what he wanted when he wanted, and right now, he wanted to get someone riled up. "So, what are you going to do now you stole this kid and left his daddy there like that? You gonna go off and be his mommy somewhere? You can't keep this boy safe."

Skye looked up at him wide-eyed. Wade's tone made her question if he was berating or teasing or just wanted to know. Her heart thumped. Regardless of his intentions, these were the same thoughts that had raced through her head over and over last night. The ones she'd reproached herself about.

Now he'd said them out loud, they sounded even worse. To Skye's utter dismay, a tear escaped her eye and cascaded down her cheek, then another one and another.

Not the reaction Wade expected, he took a few of steps away from her and pressed his mouth shut.

Dylan stopped crinkling chip bags and looked up at the silence. He glanced at his brother, taking in his discomfort before his gaze turned to Skye and her tears.

Jesse pulled his gaze from his coffee cup to stare at her. Almost simultaneously, they all looked away and shuffled their feet.

Skye sniffed and almost giggled, wondering if their identical reactions were a man thing or a messed-up childhood thing. But it had succeeded in taking her mind off her own problem. Her bracelets jangled as she scrubbed at her cheeks and apologized.

"It ain't your fault," Dylan said. "Leave her alone, Wade. We left him there."

But Wade ignored his brother. "So, you're sorry you stole him now?"

"No, I'm not sorry," Skye said. "Jesse couldn't stay in that environment any longer. What I'm sorry about is that I hurt his father. I have never physically hurt someone before. And I... I..."

Another tear ran down Skye’s face. Oh boy. I've got to stop.

Her words surprised them. Physical violence had been a constant in their lives, what she'd done hadn't seemed unreasonable to them.

"I'm a doctor. We help people, not hurt them."

Jesse walked over to Skye and with an awkward stance patted her shoulder three times. "It's okay, Skye. Don't worry, he pry didn't even notice it. His dad used to beat him regular, worse'n I got, to hear him tell it."

Skye felt pride in Jesse for trying to comfort her, but distressed over being one more person in a long line of people to beat up on Frankie. It was more than she could take, and an aching sadness rushed over her. She choked out a thank you before she headed out the front door to let her emotion run unchecked.

* * *

Wade watched Skye rush out of the house. He hung his head sending his brother an apologetic glance. Dylan shook his head at him, scooped something up off the floor, and moved to the front window to see where Skye was going.

“Picking at her ain’t gonna solve anything,” Dylan said about the disagreement that had started between them earlier this morning.

Before Skye and Jesse had woke, Wade had waved Dylan outside to talk. He knew where Dylan’s head was, all one had to do was look at him.

Wade had watched for weeks as Dylan sought Skye out whenever they were in town. He’d told his brother over and over nothing was ever going to work out between him and that girl. Now they had come across her on the road needing help and Dylan was only too eager to do the helping.

Wade shook his head again, but not at himself, instead over this crazy situation. There was no way a girl like that was going to go for one of their kind. His brother was only going to get himself hurt. And even though he’d told Dylan that flat out, his brother didn’t care. If help was what she needed, then help was what Dylan was going to give her. And when he told Wade he was going to ask her to stay, Wade’s brain had felt like something exploded.

Girl fever. Wade had developed a couple of full-blown cases of that himself in the past. It wasn’t an easy thing to get through. At least, that is what he tried to tell Dylan this morning.

“Look, I’ve been there, Bro. I really have,” Wade had said. “It runs red-hot at first, but after a while, ya won’t really care anymore. Then where will we be? We’ll be stuck with her.”

“I ain’t gonna get tired of her.”

“Yeah, ya will. We all do.”

Dylan turned toward him, determined as Wade had ever seen him be. “It ain’t like that. It’s different. I can’t explain it, but it’s something more.”

Wade’s eyes grew. “Are you sayin… are you sayin…”

“I ain’t sayin nothin,” Dylan turned away. “Just forget about it.”

Wade followed Dylan. “Brother, you know she’s too soft. If the world turns to what we think it will, she ain’t gonna survive.” When Dylan whipped around, Wade backed up but said, “It won’t be her fault. She just ain’t up to it.”

“We can help her make it.”

“For how long? We can’t be with her all the time, ‘sides we got people on this mountain looking to us now.” Wade gave Dylan a hard look. “The girl ain’t gonna make it. And I don’t want to watch you gettin all snuggly with her, and then… You’re just gonna get yourself hurt.” Wade pushed a hand through his hair. “We been hurt enough in our lives is all. That’s all I gotta say.”

“Good. Cause that’s all I’m gonna listen to.”

Dylan had stormed into the house. Wade waited a few minutes telling himself there was nothing he could do about any of it, then he followed Dylan in. His coffee was waiting

* * *

Skye sat under a large tree in the front yard until her sobs subsided. It had taken a while, the stress of the last few weeks had been building up. Frankie had just been the last straw.

Red-eyed and reluctant to return to the kitchen, she took a little walk around the house curious to see the outside in the daylight. Before she got too far, she heard the front door open and close. She looked up to see Dylan walking toward her. "Feelin' better?" he asked.

"Yes. I'm sorry, that isn't like me. I'm not usually a crier, more of a shaker." Skye uttered a small, half-hearted laugh and held up her hands making them tremble.

"Yeah, these fell when you ran out." Dylan extended his hand, Skye’s bottle of anxiety medication was lying in it.

She took it from him. "Anxiety."

Dylan raised an eyebrow. "How's that going with, ya know, everything?"

Skye gave a sharp laugh. "I gotta tell you, it's not a real great combo."

Dylan chuckled. "I wouldn't imagine so."

Skye shook the container. "I'm going through them like candy. I better get my prescription filled before there's no—no anything." Her voice broke on the words."Oh man. Just the emotion building up over everything that's been happening and then everything yesterday, I guess." She scanned the forest as she talked to avoid looking at Dylan.

"Hey, whatever you need to do." He scraped the ground with the heel of his shoe.

He's nervous I will tear up again. "This is hard for me, but it's like I told Jesse in the truck. Frankie needs to become a better person to have him. You can't treat your children that way. Ever. He needs to change." Skye had always been firm on that conviction.

Dylan scoffed. ”Well, that ain't gonna to happen. He is who he is."

Earnest in her belief, Skye said, "He can change. If he wants to bad enough."

"Maybe," Dylan said though his tone was doubtful. "But I ain't seen people changing all that much, even when they need to, and now, in all this?" Dylan's arm made a broad sweep.

Skye sighed. "I hope people can, or we're all doomed. I'm doomed. Someone like me needs to do a lot of changing." She wondered if there was more to his question than he was letting on. "People can change, Dylan. People change every day. For the good or the bad, it is up to them."

Dylan shrugged his shoulder as if he didn't know, but acknowledged her words with a small nod of his head. He pressed his lips together a few times. "I dunno. Maybe." His gaze scraped over Skye. "You can. You will."

Skye giggled. "Don't let Tom hear you say that. I'm sure he thinks the exact opposite."

"He's wrong."

She smiled her appreciation at him.

Skye looked toward the woods. The trees stood so tall that their green tops seemed to brush the bright blue of the sky. A gentle wind moved through them, rustling the leaves. The full leaves on the trees subdued the forest's light except for the occasional golden sunbeam that broke through, making its way to the woodland floor. A chipmunk's tail flickered as it raced from one tree to another. It chattered to a neighbor talking about whatever it was that chipmunks talked about. A small flock of birds passed overhead, causing speckled shadows that disappeared somewhere in the canopy.

Her gaze tracking the birds, Skye said, "I've always loved the forest, even though I haven't spent much time there."

"I'll teach you."

Skye quickly glanced at Dylan than away again. “That would be nice, but I'm leaving today, as soon as we get my car."

Dylan gave her a hard stare before looking off into the distance. She could feel it.

Skye looked back at Dylan. "Do you think I should be? Sorry about Frankie? I feel like I should be. I'm not sure I am, but--"

Dylan snorted, "No! You saved that boy. It is what I dreamed of every day when I was a kid."

Skye nodded and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Get over it. The guy don't deserve any kid, let alone a great kid like that." Dylan kicked at the grass again. "And don't let Wade get to you. He can be a jackass."

Skye had to admit that both statements were true. She shot a look at Dylan from the corner of her eye and smiled.

Dylan gave Skye another minute before saying, "You’re good. Let's go back in. The boy's worried."

Skye looked back at the cabin. Jesse's small face pressed against the glass at the corner of the window.

Twenty-Seven

People

Skye entered the house to the sizzle and aroma of bacon and eggs. At the stove, Wade took the time to throw her a hearty smile even as he flipped and turned. "Hey, sorry. I get a little snarly in the morning, but I've had my coffee now, so it's all safe." He held up his large mug as he glanced over at Dylan. Wade sipped his coffee and asked Skye, "Ya hungry?"

"Starving," Skye said, grateful for Wade's apology and the not so subtle warning that there could be a repeat of this behavior.

Jesse came over and stood by her. "I'm helpin make breakfast. Wade said I broke all the eggs perfect."

Happy that Wade could at least be nice to a child, she smiled at Jesse, "That's great. I'll enjoy them even more than."

The four of them sat for breakfast with any conversation at a minimum, and the guys shoveled the food in like it was the last they would receive.

Skye took her time enjoying her food, the clanking and slight scraps of forks against plates were morning music reminiscent her of breakfasts growing up. A big day lay ahead of her, and this bit of peace was just what she needed, reminding her of why she was taking the risk to get to them to Ohio. As everyone slowed and sat back in their seats, Skye pieced out her day.

"I wondered when you planned on taking me back to my car," she asked Dylan.

Dylan's gaze went from her to the table. "Whenever you'd like."

"I was thinking about giving Tom and my parents a call before leaving if I can get a signal."

Dylan nodded. "Good idea."

"Where are we going?" Jesse asked, reminding her that the boy had been asleep during any discussion of the trip.

"Oh, Jesse! I'm sorry. I thought it would be best to go to my parents in Ohio, at least for a while."

Jesse crinkled his nose. "Ohio?"

"It's nice there, and my parents are crazy nice too. They love kids hanging around, and I have a niece just a little younger than you. We should leave this area for a while. Would that be okay?"

"I guess," he said doubt coloring his voice. "I thought we'd live at your house. Or we'd live here."

"Well," Skye cleared her throat and ignored the second part of his statement. "Infected came to town and chased me out of my house."

Dylan's sharp eyes zeroed in on her, but he said nothing.

"That sucks," Jesse said.

"Yeah." Skye's response may have been short, but it was heartfelt. She missed her home already.

"Ohio," Jesse said with a downward twist of his mouth. He shrugged. "Okay then."

"Okay then."

Skye offered to clean up the kitchen, and the men took off outdoors to hunt, or trap, or something. She wasn't sure what since they had mumbled their plans but imagined that was what mountain men did.

After finishing her work, Skye stepped outside again, this time to call Tricia and Tom. Without a doubt, they were probably crazy with worry after the message she had left them. And it had been a few days since Skye had talked to her parents. She wanted to see how they were doing and tell them she was on her way.

As Skye stepped off the small cabin porch, the sunlight hit her eyes. She squinted and turned her head to the side then sought shade and rounded the house to find it. Here she could see the screen to dial on her cell phone.

Skye checked for a signal, relieved to see she had a few bars, but her satisfaction didn't last long. Her stomach churned as she imagined all the bad news they could tell her. Were her parents still safe? Not only from the AgFlu but also from any chaos going on around them?

And what about Tom and Tricia? Had they hid from the horde that had made its way through Colton? Her fingers paused mid-dial, and she drew in a deep breath before continuing. Tom would be first, it would be the easiest call. She hoped. Skye pressed her lips together, her nerves stretching further with each chime of the phone. On the third ring, her cousin-in-law picked up.

"Skye?" Tricia asked her voice almost a squeak.

"Yeah, it's me." Skye stammered over the words.

"Oh my lord, I'm so glad to hear from you! I been so worried!" Tricia said relief pouring through every word.

It was a bad connection, and no matter how high Skye set the volume, she had a hard time hearing Tricia. She hit the speaker button in the hopes it would be of help. "I’m worried the call will drop, Tricia, so I'll hurry through my news. Jesse is with me. I had a bit of car trouble on my way, but I ran into Wade and Dylan Cole. Do you know them? They helped me get Jesse, and I'm with them now. We're safe at their cabin."

The phone changed hands, and Tom came on the line. "You're with Wade and Dylan? I'm not sure... Those boys are... There's been a few run-ins." He paused a moment.

Skye's hand tightened on her cell. Please don't tell me they're bad people.

"Well," Tom said, "Those run-ins might just show they have the grit to deal with what's going on. They might be what you need right now. Neither of them conforms too well, but conforming isn't what's needed right now. They know the land, can hunt and can do what needs doing if something comes up."

"Okay, but--"

"Are they bein respectful?"

Skye sputtered an embarrassed little laugh but rushed to assure him. "Yes, they are. Wade likes to start arguments, but other than that, I have no complaints."

"Well, I'm surprised I'm saying this, but you're in good hands there. Just stay with them 'til things settle a bit. You'll be fine."

"Tom, I'm not staying here. I'm going to Dad's."

Tom let out a long sigh. "Skye, you aren't aware of how hard that will be."

Skye's heart sank. "How hard?"

"Last I heard roads are clogged with traffic. Give me a couple of days to find out something."

"A couple of days? That long?”

"If I find out anything sooner, I'll let you know."

Skye put a finger to her lip as she weighed her options. It was better to know of what was happening along the roads than to just start out with no idea. "Okay, two days then. If Dylan and Wade will have us. Unless you think I should come back there?"

“I don’t even want you driving the hour back here alone.”

“Alright then. Here is where I’ll stay,” She changed the topic. "How are things there?"

“Doing okay. Tricia and I haven't been sick. Tricia's been sticking around the house. I got exhausted from the never-ending work, I couldn't even stand, so now I do 12 hours. Then no matter what, I head home. I can’t help anyone if I don’t get rest." Sorrow filled Tom's voice. "It's crazy, Skye. No one is saving anything out there. Just trying to stem the flood is all and not doing too good a job at that. It will not end, not for a while, I reckon."

"I'm sure you’re doing your best. You always do. What about the town? Those Infected were coming through when I left."

"Yeah. We ran them off before they got to our house. Most people hid from them, some took off and haven't been back. Those so-called Assassins do their best to infect anyone they came across. Some have already come down with it. Sad, real sad. I'm glad you got out safe."

Skye's heart weighted further. Some of those they had Infected were most likely her friends. "I'm glad I got out too. We all need to stay safe until this is over."

Skye took time saying her goodbyes. Tom promised he would be in touch with her one way or another in two days.

The scolding of an angry squirrel made Skye look toward the woods and smile. A twig snapped behind her. She startled, and her heart thumped against her ribcage. Skye swung around to find Dylan leaning up against the side of the cabin.

She had the feeling he'd been there a while, and when he moved his foot to crack the twig again, he confirmed it.

"I thought you were hunting," Skye said.

"Got back."

She chuckled. Excellent way to state the obvious. She bit her cheek as she remembered Tom's comments about Dylan and Wade. "You heard?"

"Mostly."

Skye's gaze floated to the ground. Well, that's a little awkward.

Dylan's tone was terse. "You gonna ask?" From his expression, comments like that were nothing new to him.

"Nope, Tom told me--"

When Skye hesitated Dylan's eyes flicked from her face to the patchy grass and back again as he waited for her answer.

"He said this was the place to be, so that's good enough for me."

Dylan gave her one of his sharp looks then a little nod.

"That is if you can stand our invasion. I mean, I know--"

"You're fine. Here's where ya need to be anyways."

"Okay." Skye frowned at the strange comment even as she embraced the welcome. "Thanks. Thanks so much."

Dylan shook his head telling her to drop the subject.

Skye's mind wandered back to last part of her conversation with Tom. She picked at her fingernails. The behavior of humans often bewildered her, no matter how long she studied them. "What is wrong with people? Why would the Infected ones go after others like that, knowing they are causing others to die of the disease?"

Dylan shrugged a shoulder. "They're angry and scared with nothin to lose. They can do whatever they want. There ain't anybody to stop 'em. No one wants to get close enough to them to try."

"It doesn't give them leeway to turn into animals."

"There's always gonna be some who turn that way. You know that. We just gotta hope most don't."

Skye tipped her head as she stared at Dylan. I go to school for how many years and still need a questionnaire and weeks to understand my clients. But him, he instinctively knows, has them all figured out. Like he did me. One of those deep stares and he seems to know precisely what makes a person tick. Sounds like he should be the therapist.

Skye let her gaze wander over the mountains to the direction of Colton. "They won't. They can't. We have to live, to get things going again when this is all over."

Dylan didn't comment, but when she glanced at him, he was staring at her.

Skye looked at the ground. "I'm going to call my parents now. Are you going to listen in on that one too?" She flashed him a grin.

He shrugged and looked out to the trees. "Yep. You shouldn't be out here by yourself."

Skye opened her mouth to argue, but a quick glance at the thick forest changed her mind. She didn't know what was in those woods. He did. If he said it wasn't safe, she would believe him.

Twenty-Eight

Skye Baby

Stomach swirling, Skye clutched the phone to her ear. It rang several times, and without intending to, she counted them. Three. Four. Five. Each chime tightened the knots now residing in her body. It was six rings before her father picked up.

"Skye? Skye baby? How are you?" Her dad’s words were quick and taut.

Relief rushed through her, and her shoulders relaxed.  "Good! I'm doing great, Dad. How about you?"

"You been sick?"

"No, Dad. I'm fine. I really am. How is everyone there?"

"We're gettin by. We're all stocked up on essentials. I... I think we'll ride this out."

He was trying to reassure her, but he sounded distant. It wasn't convincing. But maybe she was making more of it than it was. "Good. Who is with you? Is Bobby there?" Skye hoped that her brother had gotten to her parents. They would need the help.

"Yep. Me, your Ma, Bobby and his family."

"Dad, I'm coming home. I will start up in a couple of days. I wanted to call and let you know."

Dylan squinted up at her as he shifted against the cabin wall.

"No, Skye," her father said. "Bobby and Patty are taking good care of us. We're doin fine. Don't you be out on those roads. It's dangerous. All that'll happen is we'll be worrying about you. I won't hear the end of it from your mother."

Skye chuckled. That was probably true. "I'm sure they're taking proper care of you, Dad. It's more than that. I... I can explain when I get there." She didn’t want to go into the whole subject of Jesse right now. What am I supposed to say? Oh yes, Dad, I'm bringing a kidnapped boy with me. Yes, me. I stole him. But don't worry, he's happy about it. No, better to talk about it once I get there.

Her father must have noticed something in her tone because he asked, "What's wrong? Who are you with? Are you with Tom?"

"No, but he's not far away. I am with a boy I counsel and Wade and Dylan Cole."

Skepticism flooded his voice. "Cole. Only Cole I know is a Virgil Cole. Must be his boys. Virgil isn't a good man. Can't imagine them being any better."

Skye glanced over at Dylan, unsure what he caught of the conversation. He hung his head, staring at the ground while kicking the side of the cabin with his heel. Skye flushed and bit the inside of her lip. Yeah, he heard. He must have listened to this kind of thing a thousand times.

Skye turned her attention back to her phone call and said, "They've been treating me well. Tom says they're just what I need right now. We're up at their hunting cabin. It's away from everything. But Dad, this is temporary. I am coming home."

"No, baby. I don't want you to do that." He insisted. "I want you to stay right where you are. I need you safe and protected. Your mother and I both do."

Skye ruffled. "Dad, I can protect myself." She shot an irritated look at Dylan when he stirred and chuckled.

"I'm not arguing about this, Skye."

She held back a sigh. "Oh, Dad. I understand what you are saying, but I really..."

Her father moved to the tone he used when she was a young girl, and he wanted her immediate obedience. "If you're safe, you stay there, girl. You hear me? It will be all over soon, then you can come up here, and we'll be happy to see you."

Skye sighed. She was no longer little, and there were more pressing concerns he wasn't aware of. But arguing would do nothing but upset everyone. Besides, it never did any good. She understood his concern, but she wouldn't be content until she was with her family. "I promised Tom I would wait a couple days while he checked on a few things. I will call you when he calls back. We can see how everything is going and decide. Okay?"

Doubt riddled his voice. "Long as you promise me you're gonna to stay put until then."

"Yes, Dad. I'll stay put." Skye smiled and shook her head. "Now, can I talk to Mom?"

The phone exchanged hands, and tears gathered when her mother's soft voice greeted her. "Hello, dear."

"Mom!"

"I'm so glad you're safe, darling. I have been so worried. Where are you?"

"In a cabin, up in the mountains. Well away from everything. It's quite beautiful here, quiet." Skye's gaze roamed the mountainous view. "One would never know what is going on below." Skye left out that Dylan had told her there were Sick on the mountain too.

Her mother let out a breath. "That puts me at ease. It really does." She cleared her throat. "Whatever happens, we love you. If you make it through this, it is enough for us."

"Mom, what do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. These are troubled times, and we shouldn't act as if they're normal. I'm telling you what I need to say," her mother said. More than once, she uttered a light cough.

"I love you too, Mom." Skye frowned as her body tensed with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine now that you called. It is only my asthma acting up. I will let your father say goodbye."

“Mom?”

Skye had worried all along her mother's compromised airways would put her at additional risk for the AgFlu as it had so many others. She gasped at her mom's deeper cough as she handed over the phone. "Dad, is Mom okay? She sounds ill."

Her father hesitated. "It'll be fine. We had trouble getting her asthma meds, so she is spacing them out a bit more than usual."

Skye ran a hand over her hair, feeling helpless. Her biggest worry since the AgFlu started was that she would be left alone with no family during this incredibly bleak time. I should be there with them. Why did I ever leave?

Skye stilled when there was more coughing in the background. "Dad, is she ill? Does she have…"

"No one is ill. Your mom's asthma and Janie's allergies are just acting up is all. Don't be worrying yourself. We're all fine here. You call again in a couple of days until then take care of yourself. Things are too dangerous out there. Stay with your group. Do what you need to do to get through this, to be safe. It'll be over soon, and we will all be together. Goodbye, baby girl. Love ya much." The phone clicked.

"Dad?"

She stared at her cell. Why did her rush her off the phone? Her conversation with her parents had sounded like more than a goodbye for now. It had felt like a goodbye forever. Skye turned her wide-eyed gaze to Dylan. He tensed and pushed off the wall, his eyes never leaving her. Skye released the lip she'd held between her teeth. "He hung up, he just hung up."

Skye rubbed her ribcage barely able to breathe the words slipping through her mind. The words no one wanted to say about the people they loved. "There was… someone was… what if they’re infected?"

Twenty-Nine

Story of My Life

Dylan was at a loss when Skye turned her teary green eyes to him for help. There was nothing he could do to save her family. Dylan watched her as she stood there hugging herself, so alone and scared.

He wanted to help her. She was in such misery, but he didn't know where to start. He wasn't used to much physical contact. Well, the good kind anyways, he thought. Never sure when to give it or what to do. But I reckon a crying woman would want a hug.

Dylan took a slight, hesitant step toward her, then froze. What if this was the wrong thing? Story of my life, just can’t be normal. But a part of him wanted to take the chance. Hardly aware of what he was doing, he beckoned her to him with a small gesture of his fingers. "Come here."

Skye stumbled into him. Dylan surprised himself when he instinctively and gently folded his arms around her. Now he was standing there holding her. It felt awkward to him, but she seemed okay with it so he reckoned he must be doing it right.

Skye’s sniffles turned to sobs. Her hands clenched at his t-shirt on either side of his body. Dylan squinted down at the top of her bent head as he stiffly held her.

She is as different from me as can be, but she's a good woman. I can tell. She cares about that kid, and he ain't anybody to her, just a patient, and she probably has a lot of them.

Even with all the craziness around them, she did fun things for the boy. She'd packed one of his favorite books, and they read it together this morning. And there had been a discussion about getting some game called Jenga that Jesse liked to play.

He smiled as he remembered Jesse and Skye playing ball in the front yard. Skye couldn't catch worth anything, but he was impressed she kept trying. Everyone laughed at her bad attempts, but she didn't care. She laughed right along with everybody else. Ended up making me and Wade take a few tosses too. Couldn't tell her no.

It felt... normal. If he even knew what normal was. And there it was, just like that. Dylan's deepest secret. The one he would rarely admit to himself. That he pushed deep down and tried to ignore. His body gave a small involuntary tremor as he struggled to stomp it down again. But it didn't work. His arms tighten around Skye as if he now needed the support.

It wasn't the white picket fence, and the perfectly mowed lawn, Dylan was after. It was something deeper than that. He yearned for a family to love and care for. One that would love and care back. A family without the beating, screaming, and hate. Being good, not ugly to one another, or as good as people could be to each other.

Some days, the good ones, Dylan thought for all the wrong he had gone through, he was due some right, so surely it would happen. But most times, he was convinced he would never have what he wanted—ever be worthy of it. Normal often seemed beyond his recognition, something Dylan only guessed at. More than once he'd thought he needed to stop because to imagine something he could never have was too much to bear.

But then—her. She's normal. She could help us get rid of the past and move on. That's her job, ain't it? That's what she wants to help the boy do. Why wouldn't it work for me and Wade?

The smallest sliver of hope took up residence in Dylan. He was sure he would regret it but couldn't root it out now if he tried.

As Skye settled, Dylan's thoughts switched to her pain. Here I am thinking about getting a family when she’s worried she’s losin hers.

Skye stirred in Dylan's firm arms sinking further into their warmth, letting him give her support both physically and emotionally. Dylan had whispered no comforting reassurances like so many others would have. He knew, as she did, that there was no comfort to give. If someone in that house was Sick, their chances were slim. The situation was dire.

Once again, Skye broke down, but it was short-lived. When she was done, she raised her head from his chest and saw the tear stains she'd left on his shirt. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. She ran a hand over the blotches. Realizing she accomplished nothing, she stopped.

Dylan gathered a few words to say, hoping they would help. "Skye." His gentle tone surprised her, and she quickly tipped her head up to him. Dylan held her arms as he spoke. "I can't tell you everything is gonna be fine because we can't know that. Don't know if it's gonna be okay for them, or us, and I'm not one to pretend it will be. But for what it's worth, we... I’m here. And we are gonna to get through today and tomorrow and every day after that, just as good as we can. That much I can promise ya."

Grateful for his remarks, Skye nodded her head even as she wondered at the change in him. Not a talkative man, Dylan mostly communicated with a series of looks, nods, and grunts. When he did talk, he fairly growled his words as though he resented being forced to use them. Occasionally though, his voice became almost gentle in nature. He'd been that way with Jesse and now with her.

When that happened, when the kind nature that resided inside cracked through his rough exterior, it was something a person remembered, something they treasured.

She sniffed and gave him a small smile. "Thank you."

Dylan grinned and patted her arm three times. Jesse had done it, and Dylan figured rightly that Skye had taught him to do that when people needed comfort.

To show her appreciation, Skye wrapped her arms around him again and hugged him hard.

It almost took Dylan’s breath away, and surprised, he stiffened a bit. But after a moment, he relaxed and slowly gathered her back into his arms, relaxing against her and returning her embrace. A small, unseen smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Thirty

Two Days

Skye imagined herself soaking in Dylan’s strength. I'll need it. Dylan, Tom, and Dad—they may suppose I'm not aware of what I'm was doing, that I don’t understand what may be out there, but I do. Yet, if I don't go now, I may never get to go. It may only get worse.

Skye stepped away from Dylan and looked out over the view. There were fog-covered mountains as far as she could see from this lofty place. It was beautiful. It was safe, or as safe as the world was right now.

Skye checked herself. There was still some sort of order. People clung to the familiar in a crisis. Healthy people continued to work, doing their best to help their community through this event. And police assisted those who needed it. Perhaps the trip wouldn’t be bad at all. Maybe in two days, things would be better.

Five hours. It takes five hours to get home. I’ll fill up on gas, water, and food, and I won't stop until I pull into Mom and Dad's driveway. Just the thought of seeing them made Skye's emotions lighter.

Dylan scraped his foot against a rock sticking out of the ground. Skye ran her gaze over him. Tall, strong and handsome. His black hair ruffled in the wind while his dark-blue eyes narrowed as he scanned the view. I'm sure he takes in a lot more than I do when he looks out there.

There was a part of her, a large part, that wanted to curl up in this cabin and let Dylan take care of her. He would do it. She could read him enough to recognize that. But that wasn’t the sort of woman she was and that wouldn’t get her to her parents.

Right now, Skye had to trust that her father told her the truth. Asthma and allergies. It was beyond her to acknowledge she would never make the trip, never see her family again. She even went so far as to dream they would all survive this epidemic.

Skye wondered if her house remained untouched, if this disease would stop now or keep going, if she was making the right decision. It was impossible to know the answers all that. Even now, the world would be changed forever. If it continued... Skye shivered.

“You cold?” Dylan asked with a frown. The temperature may be a little chilly this morning, but it was still summer.

“No. No, I’m fine. I was just thinking.” She wrapped her arms around herself despite what she said.

Dylan stepped closer, blocking the wind. “Hope you’re thinking of sticking around.”

Skye squared her shoulders. “I’m staying here for two days, like Tom said, then I’m heading home.”

Dylan scoffed and shook his head. “It’s foolish.”

Dylan wouldn’t be the only one with that opinion. “It is what it is. I need to be with my family.”

"You heard your dad. They want you here."

“Yes. But… we’ll see what two days bring.” Her eyes teared up. Skye tipped her face up to Dylan’s. “They’re my parents. Can’t you understand that I have to try?”

“I wouldn’t have risked my life for neither of the ones I lived with. You're a fool if you go, and I won’t have anything to do with it.” His words came out gruffer than he intended, and he wished he could pull them back. But he couldn’t, and he’d meant them.

Skye turned away from him. “I understand. My problems are not yours. And you know nothing about me, so don’t call me a fool.”

Dylan put a hand to her shoulder and leaned toward her. “I know you more’n you think. Probably shouldn’t tell you that, but I do. This decision, it’s the wrong one. One that could kill you and that boy. I’m tryin to save your lives.”

Skye frowned. “It's not a bad decision just because you wouldn't make it.”

A stormy light flared in Dylan's eyes. He turned and walked away. "I ain't arguing with you."

"Don't be angry."

He stopped. “I ain’t angry. I just want…” He ran a hand through his hair. “Since when does that matter.”

Skye walked up to stand by him. “Dylan.”

“I ain’t angry.” Dylan stepped away and walked to the door of the cabin.

Skye watched him go. Something in the way he walked, perhaps the set of his shoulders, reminded her of an earlier conversation with Jesse.

There were times Dylan seemed uncomfortable with Skye's presence and took it out on her by grumbling about trivial matters.  After one such time, he crossed the room and occupied himself with cleaning his weapons. It was then that Jesse leaned toward Skye and said, “He likes you.”

Skye shushed him. “No, he doesn’t. That’s not how someone acts when they like another person.”

Jesse shrugged. “It’s how he acts.”

When Skye shook her head, he insisted. “He does.”

“Jesse, he doesn’t even know me.”

He crunched on a piece of toast. “Wade says they do.”

Skye had dismissed Jesse’s words, but now as she recalled them, they brought back something else.

I know those shoulders, this man. He saved me before yesterday. He stood up to the Bengay guy. And outside the coffee shop? That was him. Now that I think about it, I’ve seen him around town a few times.

If Dylan had asked around about her as she’d been told twice now, it certainly added an awkward twist to this arrangement.

Skye’s gaze trailed him as he reached the porch and held the door for her. She still stood in the yard, but he waited there as if she needed to make a decision.

One thing Skye had to admit, this man who had appeared frightening only days ago, now seemed a protection. He had already been looking out for her. He was tough, she was not. Skye looked over the hills again imagining the chaos below. This was the best place for her and Jesse right now. She couldn’t ask for better.

Skye walked toward Dylan. When she got to the door, she flashed a determined look at him as she squeezed past him. “Two days.”

Dylan laughed despite himself. “Stubborn, foolish woman.”

After gasping, Skye added her light laugh to his deep chuckle. Why do I get the feeling he likes the challenge? The next two days are going to be interesting.

Sanctuary’s Aggression 2: The Road

This box set is compiled in the order in which the books were written. The prequel books, The Beginning and The Atlantis Cure, can be read first or where they are located in the box set.

The prequels are important to the conclusion of the series.

Thank you for reading the series. :)

The Road: Sanctuary’s Aggression 2 © 2019 Maira Dawn

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Not part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

To My Daughters,

My pride and joy.

Being your mom is the best adventure of my life.

Contents

1. Need Help

2. Ever

3. Your Boy

4. Brother

5. Random Acts of Kindness

6. Slow and Easy

7. Anyway…

8. This is Skye

9. Need Something

10. I Don’t Want To

11. Run

12. Over

13. Tell It

14. Not Proud

15. Not Enough

16. Happy for You

17. Not Easy

18. All Along

19. You Never Know

20. The Town

21. The Road

22. The Note

23. Strength

24. Wait for It

25. In Front of Me

26. A Mistake

27. Hurry

28. This Tryin Thing

29. Numbers

30. History

31. So Much

32. The Good

33. Dad

34. One Way or the Other

35. Seems to Me

36. The Crash

37. Ready

One

Need Help

Skye laid back on the couch, enjoying the quiet. A quick glance at Jesse assured her he was safe and happy as he worked on his project. That is all she ever wanted for him.

Yesterday‘s fight, when they rescued Jesse from his abusive father, had left her drained. The anxious months before that, worried about the AgFlu and the chaos it caused had taken its toll on her, but up here, on Dylan and Wade’s serene mountain, all those problems seemed so far away.

Troubled, Skye turned the cell phone she held in her hand a couple times. Until I called my parents. Are they sick? Or is Dad telling me the truth—it’s only asthma and allergies?

That worry persisted. Skye’s family lived in Ohio, five hours away, and it was her goal to take Jesse there. But her cousin, Tom, warned against it until he gave her the green light. He was checking with his fellow police officers on the conditions along the road before he would declare it safe for her and Jesse to travel. Tom planned to call back within two days.

The phone went around again, before Skye held it out to the others. “Oh, hey. Does anyone want to use the cell phone? Believe it or not, I’ve got three bars.”

Jesse shook his head but didn't look up from the model car kit Skye gave him this morning. He sat cross-legged on the floor in front of a restored wooden coffee table with the pieces laid out before him as he and Dylan studied the instructions. Dylan sat across from Jesse. He leaned forward pointing to something on the paper. Dylan glanced at Skye.

"Only person I care about is right here," Wade said, giving Dylan a pointed glance. He settled deeper into his chair and looked back at the book about house maintenance that engrossed him.

Dylan took a moment to answer. Skye noticed his hesitation and walked over, extending the phone to him. "Do you have anyone you'd like to call?"

He shrugged his right shoulder, reached for the cell phone and went outside. His muffled voice sounded for a couple of minutes. He got louder, then quieted.

Dylan stormed back in, the easy-going guy helping Jesse, the one giving Skye words of encouragement was gone. This man’s jaw was tight, and there was a blue vein throbbing at his temple. The door slammed closed behind him, and everyone jumped.

His footsteps thudded on the wood floor as he crossed the room to Skye and thrust his hand with the phone toward her. "Take it."

"Is it not working now?"

"Just take it," Dylan’s tone was flat, his control wearing thin.

Skye frowned. “Do you need help?”

"No, I do not."

“Dylan.” She reached out a hand to him.

He jerked away, pulling his arm out of reach. Grabbing his bow that leaned against the side of the couch, he slung it onto his back and stormed out of the cabin.

Skye sighed. His anger sits just under the surface ready to burst at any time. Yesterday and now this? Skye looked down at the phone, turning it over a couple more times in her hand. She frowned as she let her thumb run over its smooth cover.

Skye glanced at Jesse. He sat perfectly still; plastic car parts clutched in his hands with wide eyes glued to the door until he shifted his gaze to her. "I didn't do anything, did I?"

"Oh, honey," Skye cleared a spot to sit on the floor beside him and smoothed Jesse's hair as she spoke. "Dylan wasn't angry at us. He left to cool down. It's okay."

Skye turned to Wade. “What is that about?”

“Pry his dad, he gets pretty touchy about him,” Wade said offhandedly and turned another page of his book. “He’ll stay out for a little while. Don't you worry, Jesse, hunting cools him right down.”

Skye tipped her head. "His dad? I thought you said your dad passed away?"

"Yeah, my dad's dead. Dylan's ain't." Earlier, when Wade told Skye their dad, Virgil, had contracted the AgFlu and died during the early onslaught of the disease, he never implied they were anything other than full brothers.

“Please explain, Wade?”

“Yeah, we got different dads.” He laughed, delighting at her irritation.

Not in the mood for his teasing, Skye rolled her eyes and sighed. "Elaborate."

"Well, I was born first, then my ma stepped out on my dad, and Dylan was born."

Skye took a deep breath and held it for a moment. Patience, patience. "And was Dylan's birth father in the picture at all?"

“Well…” Wade dragged out the word, “some. Seems Ma met his dad at a Powwow and nine months later, baby Dylan came along. Not that I minded, I was a bit lonely, anyway. His dad's Native American or part anyways. That's how Dylan knows the woods so well. His dad’s into all that.” Wade waved his hand.

“Anyway,” Wade continued, “he said he didn’t know about Dylan til he was, oh around, twelve or thirteen. Said he came as soon as he did, but who knows? Dads haven't done too well by us. But on the other hand, mom's either. Ma never did tell Dylan he wasn't my dad’s.”

Skye closed her eyes. That can’t be good. Her heart froze as she waited for the rest of the story.

"Dylan found out one day when he was about ten. Dad was beatin on him real good and told him the reason he was such a thick-headed, scrawny idiot was cause he wasn't his blood. I'm cleaning that up some since Jesse’s here. It kinda messed up Dylan for a while. Couldn’t figure whether to be happy or sad about it, I reckon."

Skye imagined the thoughts that would go through a young boy's mind when given that kind of information in such a destructive way.

"Then his own dad came along a coupla years later. He would take Dylan off, and they'd have a grand ole time. That would set my dad off, and Dylan got beat more. It was a messed-up time, and Ma couldn't handle all the fightin, so she told Dylan's dad he couldn't come around no more. So, he didn't for a while."

Wade paused and looked out the window for a moment. "Ya know, it's bad enough havin the jacked-up dad I had, but for Dylan, it mighta been worse. At least, I knew what was going on."

Each piece of Wade's story felt like another stone being handed to Skye. She recalled Dylan's earlier words. How he had dreamed every day of being saved when he was a boy. He must have looked to his birth father for that escape only to have him seem to abandon him. Tears came to her eyes.

The pain and rage that man must carry. Skye turned and searched out the front window, wondering how long it usually took for him to come back.

Two

Ever

Dylan didn’t want the third degree. He wanted left alone. The cabin suddenly felt crowded with two extra people. And the questions. He needed out.

He trampled through the young forest as he headed toward the old growth. I just needed to know he was making it through this. The tangle of branches whipped back at him as he plunged through them. Tall grasses latched onto his shoes until the brush thinned and disappeared.

Reaching his destination, Dylan found the fallen log, and with a weary sigh, sat down on its rough exterior. The back of his hand scratched by the thick, brown bark of the trunk as he leaned his bow against it. His chest expanded as far as it was able while he pulled the musty, earthy scent of the primeval forest. Its aroma as familiar to him as his own.

Dylan’s breath became faster, both from exertion and emotion. He let his gaze rise from the leaf-strewn ground to the base of one of the ancient hardwoods. He continued all the way up the limbless trunk its crown, where green leaves, edges tinted brilliant yellow, sprang from heavy branches.

A few consistent sounds came to Dylan in this part of the forest with a sort of muffled quality. The gentle wind rustled through the tops of the trees as the slight drafts teased at Dylan’s hair. Squirrels scolded each other across the forest floor, like two squabbling neighbors. Above him, a small flock of birds sang as they hopped from branch to branch.

Quiet, peaceful, almost sacred, the time Dylan spent here was as close to a spiritual experience as he’d ever experienced. In this harmonious place he dared to hope there was more to existence than the dark way he came up in this world.

Dylan closed his eyes soaking in the comfort and solace. He’d found this place as a boy, during a particularly difficult time in his life. It helped restore him then, and he continued to return time after time, drinking in the calm to ease his harassed soul.

But now his troubled thoughts continued to plague him. What was I thinkin? How do I think I’m ever gonna have a normal family? Besides Wade, I can’t even get my blood to care about me.

Dylan rubbed his aching chest with the heel of his palm. His shoulders sagged as he lowered his head to his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. Tears had deserted him long ago. Instead, his body quaked with sorrow.

Today, even here, he could not find the hope he so desperately yearned for.

Three

Your Boy

The tension left Skye’s shoulders when Dylan walked into the cabin two hours later, but little had changed with his attitude. He came back with no game and even less patience. Dylan met questions with a frozen stare and silence, so eventually, they stopped.

Wade had said Dylan’s time in the woods usually calmed him, but not today. Everyone avoided him as much as they could in the tiny house, and still, by nightfall, he acted as surly as the autumn bear Wade accused him of being.

Is this the best the man can do?

Jesse’s gaze tracked Dylan when he moved around the room, and Skye didn’t like it. The boy was coming from a bad place, and the strain was disturbing him. Dylan knew that, yet he continued to act like this. She sighed. It was affecting them all.

She threw a glance at Wade as he happily read his book. Well, maybe not him.

Skye made up her mind. She needed to talk to Wade about the situation to get more insight on the matter, so she waited until he left the cabin and followed him out. “I get Dylan’s working through something, but the way he is acting...”

“Yeah, he gets like this sometimes,” Wade said with a flip of his hand. Apparently, Dylan’s moods didn’t worry him much.

Skye pursed her lips before saying, “He’s been either growling or oppressively silent, and it’s been going on most of the day. How long can this last?”

“Oh, well now, I seen it go on for days. I wouldn’t bother Dylan if I were you,” he cautioned when he saw her glance toward the cabin. “He’ll get over it.”

“Wade, this can’t continue. It isn’t a good atmosphere for Jesse, us, or even Dylan himself. I need to talk to him.”

Wade scratched his jaw as he drew out his words. “Yeah, like I said I wouldn’t do that.”

Skye studied Wade for a minute before kicking a little at the grass beneath her feet. “I’m a professional, this is what I do.” Her eyes softened as she looked through the window to see Dylan hunched forward on the recliner, forehead leaning against his fisted hands. The man was clearly unhappy. She bit her lip then said, “Someone will have to go into the bear’s den.”

Wade sighed loudly. “Well, remember, I warned you.” He shook his head as he walked away.

Skye gave Dylan as much time as she could, but once the atmosphere in the cabin was unmistakably oppressive, she became aware she needed to act. She smothered a sigh and headed over to the side of the room Dylan had taken over to work and teetered next to him on the edge of the couch. Her fingers clenched the soft material of the cushion as she scanned his gruff exterior.

With a gentle voice, she said, “Dylan, can you tell me what happened?” A silent stare was all he gave her before he turned back to cleaning his gun.

Okay, great. Good start there.

“We don’t have to talk about anything in particular, but is there something we can do to help you get through this?” A low, exasperated sigh was her only answer.

One of Skye’s eyebrows raised, and she clasped her hands together. Still nothing. I have literally never had a child patient act this way, and this right after his nice little speech to me too.

She looked over at Jesse watching his gaze bounce between her and Dylan, his young face pinched and white.

Skye couldn’t take Jesse looking so scared, and all her schooling left her. She tore her gaze from the boy and fired it at Dylan. “We need you to stop acting this way.”

At last, Dylan spoke, “What are you talking about, woman?”

Really? What am I talking about? She let out a slow breath to calm herself. “Please stop. This atmosphere isn’t good for any of us.”

Dylan almost growled at her. “Do you think I actually give--“

“Don’t even.” She shot a glance at Jesse before glaring at Dylan. Jesse had heard a lot of language in his life, but she didn’t want that for him anymore.

“Fine!” Dylan roared, leaning in toward her, eyes blazing right back.

Skye‘s calm demeanor gone, she was ram-rod straight with fists at her sides. “Fine!”

His fierce stare held Skye‘s, reading her and answering her at the same time, but whether he was saying, “I am man, how dare you deny me” or “Wow, she is hysterical about this. I guess she really means it,” Skye wasn’t sure.

Before she could say another word, Dylan rose from the couch, and again, grabbed his bow. This time he also stopped by the door to snap up one of the loaded packs that sat there. He threw it over his shoulder, and walked straight out of the cabin, into the darkened woods.

Skye’s head sank to her hands.

“Oh man, you really did it now, didn’t ya?” Wade’s tone was sarcastic.

She raised her wide-eyes to him. “Me? I did nothing. He’s the one acting juvenile.”

“Told you it wouldn’t work,” he chided her.

“Shut up!”

Wade gave a big belly laugh. “Little Miss Hoity-toity puttin away your going to town manners. Now you’re learning.”

After that, things went from bad to worse. Everyone was worried about Dylan being out in the dark and lonely night and that also made them short-tempered.

Jesse was in charge of the fire this evening. The men had shown him how to keep the small blaze fed and make sure it didn’t die down too much overnight. But as they were getting ready for bed, Jesse added a log that was, in Wade’s opinion, too large. Wade barked at Jesse. The more Wade talked, the lower the boy slumped. “Don’t be so dumb, boy. You know that isn’t how to do that. I swear sometimes you are so stupid. You remind me...”

Skye raced across the room to Jesse’s side and laid her arm on the boy’s shoulders, pulling him to her. “Stop! You stop that kind of talk right now!”

Wade gave her a dismissive wave of his hand, “Ah, this boy has listened to a lot worse than that in his life.”

Skye let go of Jesse and took a step toward Wade, her voice becoming a mixture of ice and steel. When it came to sticking up for her kids, she never backed down.

“I don’t care what he has heard before. I care about what he hears now.” She punched her finger at Wade. “He is my boy now. And he will not have to endure words like that shouted at him anymore. And anyone who thinks otherwise will deal with me. Do you get that?”

Wade was quiet. There was one thing he knew well. You can only push a woman so far. It’s like they have a line, an invisible line, they won’t let you push them across. It was different with each woman. But when she gets to it, she holds that line. She firmly holds it.

He had just found Skye’s line. She was giving him the look a woman gives a man when she has had enough of him. Wade didn’t understand much about women, but he did know just what to do when a woman gave him that expression.

Wade nodded his head once. “Yes, Ma’am.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when behind Skye, the front door opened and closed. She swung around to see Jesse gone. What was going on now?

Skye turned back to give Wade another hard look but found him suitably contrite. Then Skye followed Jesse out the door. The boy stood in the front yard staring into the darkness.

Grass tickled Skye’s bare feet as she made her way over and stopped behind him. “Jesse? What is it?”

“I ain’t your boy.”

Confusion covered Skye’s face. “What?”

Quietly, Jesse said, “You told Wade I was your boy.”

Skye sagged. Oh, my goodness, the testosterone in this camp is killing me!

Skye studied the dark sky to steady herself before continuing. “I am sorry if that disturbed you, but I was angry and wasn’t thinking. I only meant you are in my care right now. Please don’t be upset about this.”

Jesse took a moment before he answered, a look of understanding swept over his face. He turned to Skye, tears in his eyes.

Skye softened her voice. “Oh Jesse, please don’t be unhappy.”

Jesse shook his head ever so slightly. “I was mad. But I thought of when you helped me, even when I didn’t want it. I thought I wasn’t your boy, but I’m just not your boy yet. Someday I will be though. And that doesn’t make me sad, it makes me happy.”

Warmth rushed through Skye. She’d known this boy had come to mean a lot to her, but it surprised her how deeply his words moved her. She stepped up to him with a smile on her face.

There was a catch in her voice as she spoke. “That makes me happy too. Well then, I’m sorry, but I have to do this.” She bent and pulled him into a hug, one arm around his small shoulders and the other smoothing his thick hair. He suffered through it with as much grace as he could, hardly wiggling at all.

Four

Brother

Skye tried to sleep, but she was restless. Having one of their little group out in the dark night was unnerving. Wade slumped in a chair, keeping watch. Twice, Skye whispered over to ask him if there was any sign of Dylan. But Wade only shook his head.

It took a while, but Skye managed to doze. She woke to a black pre-dawn sky and the aroma of coffee and eggs. She peeked across the open room and saw Dylan cooking, and her tense muscles eased.

Bleary from her uneasy sleep, she stood and stumbled over to the kitchen. Skye pulled out one of the nearest chairs and slumped into the seat. Dylan avoided looking at her, but said, “I cooked up some eggs. If ya want some.”

"I do, thanks. They smell good." Skye kept her tone even, but Dylan seemed over his sour mood.

Dylan made her a plate and gingerly sat it in front of her. With a smile, Skye speared a bite of the scrambled eggs and lifted it to her mouth. Dylan knew his way around the kitchen, this was the best breakfast she ever remembered eating. "Good!" she said after her forkful of the fluffy eggs.

He gave her a small nod.

After swallowing, Skye asked him what his plans for the day were. Still circumventing her gaze, he said," I'm gonna go holler at Joe and see how he is doing."

The idea of getting out of this cabin for a while appealed to her and perhaps getting to know each other better would ease some of the tension. “Please, take me with you.”

Dylan sat back and at last, looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

“I need out,” she continued with earnest, “some air. We've all have been cooped up in here, and we're all on edge, and we need a change of scenery.”

Dylan grunted his agreement. He stared at his plate as he shoveled in another mouthful. “I got some places to check out, and I wouldn’t mind finding game out there. Can you be quiet in the woods?”

“As in not talking so much, sure I can do that.” Does he actually think I talk that often?

"As in not talkin at all." His expression showed it was doubtful.

Apparently, he assumes I do. Skye lowered her head so Dylan wouldn't see her frown. Two arguments in twenty-four hours were enough.

"I can't say a single word?" Skye flashed a wry peek back up at him.

"In the woods, you only talk if you have to. No scaring off the game. 'Sides, there's still a few Sick out there."

Skye nodded. "Yes, believe it or not, I can not talk at all."

He gave a quick nod, "Okay, we leave at 6:30."

Ugh. "What time is it now?"

"Four."

With longing, Skye looked over at her bed, piled high with pillows and blankets. "I'm going to go back to bed. Is the sun even up at 6:30?" she whined.

"Yeah, it is." Dylan shook his head as if in disbelief. "What kinda world did you live in before?"

"A pretty cushy one," she sent back over her shoulder as she started toward the bed.

Dylan snorted. “I can’t even imagine your life. You gonna come then?”

"Yeah, of course, I am."

Once everyone was ready, they decided Wade would take Jesse fishing at a nearby creek while Skye and Dylan went on the run for supplies and checked on neighbors. Jesse was so excited by the prospect that Skye couldn’t say no even though she would rather Jesse stay with her. So, she put her apprehension on simmer and helped Jesse get ready.

Wade was patiently as he stood and listened to Skye’s almost unending list of instructions for Jesse before blowing out a huge breath. “Is that all? And here I thought you’d be worried or somethin.”

Dylan snorted, and Jesse stifled his laughter behind a fist he shoved against his lips.

“Hey,” Wade said giving Skye a pat on the arm. “I get it. The boy is priority one. I’ll keep him safe, and I’ll even be nice to him. Well, as nice as I know how.”

When Skye’s eyes narrowed, Wade held up his hands in surrender.

There was no more Skye could ask, but she sent one warning as they parted. "I can't believe I am saying this to you and not the 10-year-old, but I better not hear you were acting up!"

"What you don't know..."

"Wade!"

“I'll be good, I promise! Or the boy can have at me when we get back.”

Skye gave Jesse a quick hug, smoothed his messy morning hair and hopped into the passenger side of Dylan's truck. As they drove down the driveway, Skye twisted to look out the back window searching for Jesse.

Dylan glanced at her. “You want to go with them?”

"Goodness, no! I hate fishing. It's so boring!" Skye’s confession earned her a rather disappointed stare. "I mean, I would fish to survive, if I need to. But not for enjoyment. I used to—oh wait. Am I allowed to be talking now?" Skye gave Dylan a mischievous smile.

Dylan scoffed and uttered a quiet chuckle before drawing out his answer. "Yes, you can talk now."

"Okay, just checking. I used to fish with my dad, to spend time with him. We would talk, or I would read to him, that was fun. But worms and waiting, um, no. Not really me."

Dylan gave a low laugh, then sheepishly glanced at her. "You ain't still mad at me?"

Skye puffed out a short breath and looked out the side window before replying, “Perhaps a little, but we all had a bad day yesterday, I wasn't proud of myself either. I don't like how I yelled at you and Wade.”

She saw his confused expression and continued, “I get it, you don't consider it anything, but it's something to me, and I don't like that I did it. It doesn't create harmony.” For the first time since meeting him, Skye heard Dylan utter a full laugh.

Skye giggled, more at seeing Dylan so amused than his reaction to what she was saying. “Go ahead and laugh. But there's so much conflict in the world now, and we aren’t certain it will get better.” She grimaced when Dylan gave her a look that said it would not. “We need to make peace where we can. Home shouldn't be a place of conflict. It should be a source of comfort, especially now.”

* * *

Dylan quieted. This was what he wanted, and Skye was the one that could teach him how. He wasn’t happy with his behavior the other day either. Even as Dylan was yelling, he was aware he shouldn’t have been. The fact was that shouting had been so much a part of his life he considered it normal conversation, and it was rare for him to recognize when he crossed over into it.

But yesterday, he'd known from her reaction. Skye had been angry but also scared and hurt. And when Dylan had looked at the boy, he had been frightened too. I don't want that. I don't want to be that.

Dylan agreed Skye had a point, a home should be a safe place. He and Wade had not had that growing up, but he needed to make this a good place for the boy. Dylan didn't want Jesse to think all men were like his dad.

"You need to just try, Dylan." Skye's words were gentle.

"I am tryin."

Skye nodded. “I’m aware it's difficult but try harder. Cause we’re all trying too.”

Dylan agreed and gave a small smile. "Okay, I agree to try harder to try."

Skye seemed happy with that and smiled back.

A few miles further and Dylan surprised himself when he said, "My dad." He hadn't intended to share his thoughts, they darted out before he could shove them away.

Skye said nothing, just waited patient as can be, as she often did when she wanted someone to "share". Dylan scowled, irritated at himself because now he needed to say something, or he would seem like an idiot. "Wade said he told you about my dad. Well, I called him yesterday."

Skye settled her hands on her lap and looked at Dylan with an interested expression. "Oh, did you?"

Oh, she's good. Just calm as ya please over there. Well, that's that. That’s all your gettin. Dylan straightened his shoulders and stared out the front window. Skye waited without a word. He remained silent for a while as his mind stewed, then let out an annoyed breath. "I called him. His other son answered. He wouldn't let me talk to him."

"Your brother?"

"Uh? Yeah, my brother, I guess."

Looking over at Dylan, Skye asked, "Did he say why he wouldn't let him talk to you?"

"He said Dad was out," Dylan said and huffed a sharp breath, "but I'm thinkin he just didn't want me to."

"Why?"

"There's been," Dylan hesitated, "difficulties before."

"But with everything going on, would he really refuse to let you talk to your dad?"

“I don’t know.”

"So, you're worried."

Dylan stiffened. "I ain't worried. Dad's tough, he can take care of himself."

"What's your brother's name?"

"John."

"So you called, and John answered the phone. He said you couldn't talk to your father and gave a vague answer why."

"Yep." The more Dylan stewed about it, the angrier he got.

"You're worried."

“I said I ain’t,” Dylan shot back. I ain‘t a worrier. Women worry, men act.

“It may feel like just anger, but it’s coming from concern you have about your father’s situation.”

When Dylan didn't respond, Skye continued. “It's a time of crisis. Anyone would feel the same way.”

Maybe she's right. I’m concerned.

“It’s a normal emotion.” Skye said. “It’s not a weakness to worry about people you care about."

Dylan shot her a glance and nodded.

"Sometimes it's hard for us to recognize our emotions." Skye’s gaze was warm and soothing. "He's probably fine. Try again tomorrow."

Perhaps it was the drive, or the easy way Skye had about her, but for reasons he didn't understand, Dylan told Skye about his dad.

Dylan told her how he tried to get custody of him once he was aware of Dylan’s existence, how even though that didn't work, his mom had let Dylan go off with his dad for a time. He also told her where his dad lived, all the things his father had taught him and what his other family was like. Dylan wasn’t sure what Skye thought, but it lightened him to talk about it.

He rolled his shoulders. “It was... I can't even describe what it was like, gettin away from this house. Like a whole different life. It made me angry, so angry I had to live here at all. Then one day, Dad said I was old enough to choose who I wanted to live with. I thought it'd be no decision at all.”

Dylan stared at the passing scenery. “Til I realized Wade would be left behind, in that house, alone. Couldn't do it, I wouldn’t leave him.”

Dylan rubbed his face. "At least together we stood a chance. But alone..."

"I understand," Skye reached out a hand and laid it on his forearm. Dylan startled, then allowed it, but kept his face turned so she wouldn't see his pained expression.

* * *

It was hard for Skye to imagine what it had cost for young Dylan to give up the opportunity to remain with his father, to leave the place that caused him so much torment it still haunted him. To this day, he was unable express how wonderful it had been to be away from Virgil's house and with his own father.

Dylan had relinquished a sanctuary, and instead, stayed in a dangerous place. He had done this for his brother. Skye wondered if Dylan ever regretted that decision.

Five

Random Acts of Kindness

Skye leaned her head back on the passenger seat as she crossed her feet and put them on the dashboard. She watched the stands of trees go by as they drove down the stone and dirt country roads. Wind from the partially lowered window played with her hair. With a slow breath, Skye drew in the deep woodsy scent that held a hint of pine. I love that smell. There's nothing better.

Dylan laid out his plan for her. It was normal for him to do a country block around his cabin. While his friend, Joe, was on the route, so were other neighbors he liked to check on.

Curious, she turned toward Dylan, taking in his rugged profile, his eyes narrowed as he squinted at the sunlight. "How often have you been doing this?"

"Every few days I see if they need anything, and call someone to haul 'em off if they're sick. Hate to see them getting bad and wandering around."

Skye’s heart melted a bit at this rough man’s concern over his neighbors. Given the circumstances, she wasn't certain how many others would do what he was doing, and yet, that was the very reason Dylan was doing it.

“That is considerate of you, I am sure they appreciate it.”

Dylan grimaced and gave her a small shrug with his right shoulder. “There's not really a lot of people, way up here. If I don’t do it, I can’t think who could,” he said as if to excuse himself from any random acts of kindness.

"Hmm," Skye mumbled smiling.

As they reached the first neighbor, Dylan told her it had been a while since he'd seen them. The last time no one had come out to talk to him, so he had called the clinic to check on them. He wasn't sure what happened after that.

When they pulled into the driveway, Dylan sounded the horn and waited. In a short time, a young blond man that looked to be in his early twenties, and still healthy, came to the door. Dylan opened his truck door and stepped out but stayed close to the pickup. The men conversed from this distance.

"Hey, Dylan! Good to see ya! Looks like your doin good. Who ya got there?" said the young man.

Dylan introduced him as Bobby, but when he saw Skye pull the truck door handle to get out, he barked for her to stay in the car.

“Dylan!” Seriously? Bossy much?

Dylan didn’t even throw her a look, but said, “We don’t get out.”

“You’re out.”

“Don’t leave this truck, Skye.”

Okay, sure, I can do that. Skye popped out the open passenger window, sat on the door and waved. Technically, part of me is still in the vehicle.

"Hey, nice to meet you," she shouted over.

Dylan's head whipped toward her, and she gave him a sweet smile. Dylan shook his head before returning to his conversation.

“The whole family ended up sick,” Bobby said. “I gotta thank you, Dylan, for getting the clinic to send people out to get them. Tears rolled down his face as he continued, “Just Sis and me made it. Everyone’s gone or on their way to bein gone. It's been hard, real hard to lose so many.”

Sis came up beside Bobby, and linked her arm through his, patting him.

“At least some of us got through it, Sis is still pretty weak though,” Bobby said.

"Same thing happened to me," Skye said.

Sis lifted her head and yelled over to Skye, “You stayin around here?”

"I'm staying with the Coles until I can head home to Ohio,” Skye answered. “It's where my family is."

Dylan asked if they needed anything before they left. When they answered no, he raised his hand in goodbye and got back into the truck. Skye waved and hopped down onto the seat.

"What do you think they're doing for food?"

“Same as we're doin. Scavenge the empty houses. Live off the land. If he needed anything, he woulda said," Dylan reassured her as he backed out of the drive and headed down the lane.

On their way to the next house, Dylan uttered a short groan in the back of his throat.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Skye asked as she glanced at him, then looked left and right.

Dylan tipped his head toward his side of the road. Skye leaned forward and scanned the woods before coming to a startling halt. Her stomach clenched when she noticed a woman sitting on the ground, leaning up against a tree.

Clothes torn, the small woman had also lost one of her tennis shoes, her bare foot peeking out from beneath a thigh as she sat on it. Deep, red scratches covered her exposed skin. Her dark blue hands rested in her lap as if she were seated at a religious meeting listening to a sermon. Her head seemed bowed in prayer.

"Oh, no," Skye whispered, "What is she doing out here?"

"I reckon she's gone," Dylan said in a resigned tone.

Tears came to her eyes. “Gone? You think she's dead? That's terrible!” Skye whispered, her voice breaking on the words. “How terrible.”

“I’m gonna make sure.” Dylan opened his door.

"What? No!" Skye grabbed his arm and pulled to hold him back. "That is dangerous. Isn't that dangerous?"

Dylan looked down at her hands gripping his bicep and said, "You just want to leave her here, then?"

"No, that would be... I don't know. You can't touch her, or get too close and breathe after her if she is alive. I don't know, what do we do?" she asked, confused between what was right and what was unsafe.

"I'll get out, walk a bit closer and see, that’ll tell us who to call," Dylan said pushing open his door. "You stay here. Inside the vehicle this time."

"Okay, but I can help, if you want me to...," Skye’s voice trailed off. She hoped he didn't want her aid in any way. "Please, please be careful."

“I will, Skye. I don’t plan on dying today.” Dylan’s calm voice reassured her, and after a quick look at her, he stepped out of the truck.

Dylan slammed the side of the truck bed with his hand causing a loud, metal bang. Skye jumped and eyed the woman. If she were alive, she should have stirred. The Sick didn’t like loud noises. But the woman didn’t move.

The closer Dylan got to the sick woman, the tenser Skye became. By the time Dylan made his way over to the woman, Skye was on her knees in the driver's seat. One of her hands clenched the steering wheel, and one gripped the back of the seat, to the point of numbness.

When Dylan crouched down in front of the woman, Skye sucked in a sharp breath and held it. When he leaned forward to peer into the woman’s face, Skye feared that breath would become a scream. Skye bit her lips closed.

Dylan stood and backed away. Skye blew out a long, ragged sigh.

Dylan walked back to the truck and yanked the driver's door open. He looked her up and down. "You're lookin a bit peaked."

“I was worried!” Skye’s glanced back at the woman. “Is she gone?”

"Yeah," he sighed. "Guess I'll try calling somebody. If not, me and Wade will need to do something."

“You can't! It could make you sick.” Even as Skye said it, she realized what a dilemma this was. It wasn't right to leave the dead woman here, nor was it healthy. On the other hand, it could make them sick to be near her. Her voice fluttered. “This is bad, so bad. Let's hope that someone answers.”

Dylan climbed in the truck and peered at an anxious Skye. His hands twisted on the steering wheel. “It’ll be okay. Like I said, I dealt with this before.” Skye acknowledged Dylan, and they continued on, but the discovery had marred the beautiful day for Skye. “Have you seen others when you’ve been out before?"

“Yeah. Some gone, some Sick and wandering. They can be anywhere, even walking the woods. Not much I can do but call someone. I give ‘em some food or water if they take it.”

"I haven't seen many up close. Are the Sick coherent enough to be aware they need help?"

"Some are. Some mutter about finding someone or trying to get to the doctor. Others," Dylan shook his head, "I don't think they know where they are. They just mumble around. But you got to be careful, lucid or no, some come after ya."

Skye's thoughts went to the video she had first seen on YouTube, she shivered. "Violent without provocation?"

"Ain't no provocation coming from me."

"That's frightening."

Trying to lighten the moment, Dylan said, "Me or them?"

Skye shot him a glance and giggled as she settled in for the ride to the next house.

Six

Slow and Easy

The next two houses stood empty. The first Dylan had already checked out, so he pulled into the driveway of the second home. This one might have some food available. Dylan told Skye to "stay put" and jumped out of the truck before she was able to say anything.

Dylan approached the front door of the wooden house with slow, deliberate steps. His eyes narrowed in concentration, alert to every sound, but only birds and an occasional squirrel scampering across the front yard sounded. Dylan was careful to dodge the worst of the small twigs and leaves littering the yard. Still, from time to time he was unable to avoid one, and there would be a snap or stir on the ground below him.

Dylan threw a look back at the vehicle when it pinged. Skye sat inside, her eyes glued on him. Relieved she had listened, he moved on to make sure house was safe before he brought her in.

Dylan held his crossbow in his hands, loaded but pointed at the sky. He didn't want to shoot some innocent person, but he also wanted to be ready for anything. Dylan tightened his hand on its stock. The crossbow’s strap tapped a light rhythm on his forearm with each step he took.

Slow and easy. It's what Dad taught me, and it works every time.

Dylan reached the front door, then stopped and listened. There were no sounds coming from inside. Since the house was empty the last time he passed by, he reckoned it still would be. On top of that, he knew the woman on the side of the road was the mother of this household. Still, it paid to be careful, it was possible someone else holed up here. Dylan turned the front door’s handle and pushed it open.

A family had lived here. A husband, wife and their five very active kids. Dylan had often seen them running through the yard as he drove by. None of them were here now, dead or alive.

How long had the wife been out there before she sat down to die by that tree? Where's the rest of them?

Dylan scanned the entry from the door before stepping into the larger space without a sound, first one foot then the other. He opened and closed any doors he saw as he moved through the room.

The kitchen was in disarray. Contents from the cabinet littered the countertop, cartons and papers lay on the floor. A half-packed box sat on the counter. Someone loaded it, maybe the people that used to be here, maybe someone scavenging.

Dylan’s foot hit a fork that rested on the floor, and the metal utensil skittered away. He tensed, his teeth on edge, the scraping against light wood floor seemed loud in the quiet dwelling. He cursed his carelessness and stopped to listen. Nothing.

Still, Dylan's attention to safety required a check of all the rooms and closets. Nothin here. I hope they made their way to town even though it’s mostly a death sentence either way. If they're with the doc, they’ll get proper care, and I don't want to come across those kids roamin around somewhere.

Dylan's skin crawled as he recalled the Sick he’d seen in the past. Their limbs so stiff, they barely allowed them to walk. Mouths open, gasping for what little breath their bodies allowed them. Foam dripping from their blue lips.

Some of the Sick stretched out their arms, begging for help. Others seemed angry, aggressive even. Those that could still run often came after him.

His thoughts strayed again to the wife leaning against the tree all alone. Dylan’s heart burned with hatred against this illness. How long was she wandering, sick and scared? It shouldn't be that way. I wouldn't let it be.

Dylan turned his attention back to the supplies and finished loading the half-filled box sitting on the countertop. He packed up a few more boxes and stacked them by the door.

Seven

Anyway…

Skye stared at the house Dylan had disappeared into. A small, wood-sided cottage, it couldn’t contain more than the basic layout, two or three little bedrooms, living room, kitchen and bathroom.

What is taking him so long? A million bad possibilities ran through her mind.

Skye waited in the car as Dylan requested, not because she wanted to, but because she didn't want another argument. He was right when he pointed out, more than once, that he knew what he was doing. She did not. Still, that knowledge didn’t stop the tapping of her fingers on the seat as she examined the house again and again for any sign of Dylan.

No matter what Dylan’s skills, Skye’s nerves remained on edge, not only for him but for herself. Now alone in the vehicle, the sunny day seemed less bright as she scanned her surroundings. Are there other sick or infected out there ready to pounce on me if I stray from the car?

Skye shivered as she remembered the Sick chasing her as she drove away from Colton, the smear of bloody handprints they left on her Jeep.

She squinted as she tried to peer through the house windows. Dylan passed by a couple of them a few minutes ago, but after that, nothing.

Was there any reason that would justify going up to the home? Even though her stomach fluttered, her hand crept to the truck’s door handle. As she touched the smooth chrome handle, Dylan appeared in the doorway. Skye blew out a sigh of relief and flung the truck door open.

Dylan raised a palm, telling her to stop. With care, Dylan scanned the woods again. She looked around. He was right, one could have snuck up on Skye as she sat there. She eased the door back closed.

She studied the man as he did his job. Her eyes lingered on his tossed black hair, trailed down strong arms showcased in a sky-colored t-shirt with no sleeves, drifted to his trim waist and over his jean-encased legs to his worn, hickory-colored hiking boots and back up again.

Dylan's craggy face and blue eyes seemed ever on the alert as if looking for someone or something. In particular, or in general, she wasn't sure. His muscular shoulders were usually tense, ready for action. This stance was such a part of him, it wasn’t developed in response to recent events but started in childhood.

When Skye first met Dylan, she thought him as a bit more than average height and build, but he seemed so much larger now. The protection he offered made her seem less vulnerable as everything around them fell apart. Dylan gave her and Jesse stability in this unstable world.

Tom and Dad are right. Dylan is steady when it come to this sort of thing and can take care of trouble. He can keep us safe.

Dylan continued out of the doorway, moved to the side and toward the back of the house searching the area as he went. Her eyes shadowed him.

He has that walk, that kind of... stride, that makes most women look twice.

Once she lost sight of him, her train of thought came to an abrupt halt.

Whoa! No. He also has a boiling temper, and a very troubled background. I’ve already dealt with a man like him before, and it was not good, not good at all. This situation is too complicated, and it’s definitely not the right time for this! And anyway...

Her mind drifted back to high school graduation, and Craig, her first love. On that day, it seemed all her dreams were coming true. Yes, they were young, but that didn't always have to be a bad thing, her eighteen-year-old self had reasoned. Her entire being caught up in a warm, fuzzy love bubble.

She thought Craig had been too, and maybe he had for a while. But within a year of marriage, the whole thing had fallen apart with a suddenness and ferocity that had shaken Skye to the core, and she couldn’t even blame it all on Craig.

Skye knew she should be over it, reasoned that she was a mental health professional and should know better than to hang onto it. Skye even racked up the hours with a therapist of her own. The idea of exposing herself to another relationship made Skye uncomfortable. Nowadays, it was rare for her to even find a man attractive enough to glance at twice.

Skye swallowed and crossed her arms. Then he comes along.

A single, sharp rap on the truck window startled her. Skye glanced up to ocean blue eyes. As her face pinked, she unknowingly raised her hand to her cheek.

"You okay?" Dylan asked her through the glass, his gaze sweeping over her glowing cheeks and uncomfortable demeanor. It was more than her face that blushed now. It felt like it ran through her whole body. Skye looked everywhere but at him.

Skye quickly pulled her hand down and opened the door. "Yeah, I'm fine. You took a long time, and I was worried."

Skye jumped out of the truck as Dylan gave her a confused, prolonged gaze and raised an eyebrow. She shifted her head and ever-reddening face away from him.

To her relief, Dylan turned toward the house. As he walked in front of her, Skye tried to keep her gaze off him and on the instructions he gave her about the most important items to scavenge.

Dylan turned and looked at her. “Are you listening?”

Eyes to the ground, Skye almost bumped into him. “What? Yes, canned food, medical supplies. Why wouldn’t I be listening?”

“You usually ain’t so quiet. Seems like you always have somethin to say.”

“You told me not to talk.”

“Geez, woman.” Dylan shook his head. “In the woods. In the woods.”

Dylan put a hand to Skye’s back to urge her along as he threw a glance at the tree-line. The outline of his hand seemed to flame against her skin even through her shirt, and she scooted forward.

Skye rushed through the front door and got to work. At last, Skye regained her composure. She vowed not to look at him like that again and kept her head down concentrating on what she was doing.

Skye followed Dylan's instructions to the letter, she needed to learn from him. He had instincts she didn't have, and her plans required her to pick up as many skills as she could. She was not born to this life like he was, but was starting from scratch, and it left her at a disadvantage. There was a lot of catching up to do.

Skye‘s only deviation from Dylan’s instructions was going into a young boy's room. Skye searched through the clothes and saw some Jesse’s size. His current wardrobe comprised of what was on his back when they rescued him and another set she badly modified from Dylan's closet. She tried not to think of the young boy these used to belong to as she picked out a few shirts and pants for Jesse.

Then she headed to the parent's room and found a few clothes that should work for the men. The wife's clothes were a little tight for her, but Skye found some that worked. She filled a large garbage bag Dylan had brought and dragged it out the door, letting it plop down the stairs.

Dylan stood beside the homeowner’s two vehicles siphoning gas. At his questioning glance, she said, "Clothes, is that okay?"

He gave her a shrug and a nod.

As Skye continued to drag the dark bag over to the truck, Dylan tracked her. Skye reached the back of Dylan’s vehicle and tried to lift the sack from the top. She only got it half-way up the tailgate.

Skye grabbed the sides of it and pulled. Her nails clawed at the plastic bag creating holes. She pushed her body against it, wedging the bulky bag between her back and the tail of the truck from there she would roll it up and over.

Skye huffed, turned for the final big push and came face to chest with Dylan. Skye stumbled back in surprise. How did the man sneak up on her like that?

Dylan grabbed the fat bag before it hit the ground and slung it into the truck bed as if it were weightless, then more carefully, added his two gas cans.

After watching the shiny, black bag soar up over the red tailgate and plop down onto the ridged flooring. Skye put her hands on her hips, disgusted with herself. "I'm pathetic."

"It's heavy." Dylan shrugged. He clearly was trying to make her feel better.

"No, I really am. I've never been one to work out much, and you know, desk job. I'm a wimp. I have to get stronger."

Even if Dylan hadn’t said a word, the up and down gaze he gave her along with his expression informed her, he did not find her wanting in any way. “You’re just fine,” he said.

This, on top of her own earlier thoughts, undid all her efforts to compose herself. Once again, her cheeks colored pink.

Dylan reassured her. “It'll come. Livin different now, you'll get stronger.” He gave her one of his rare wide smiles. “Til then, even then, I can be the heavy lifter.” He raised and flexed his substantial arm muscles.

She laughed, which turned into a giggle. Oh brother, what's wrong with me? I fall for one of the oldest moves in the book? Me strong man, you little woman? Her blush deepened. This is not helping!

Skye rushed to her side of the cab and jumped in. She sat so far away from Dylan, she almost hugged the door. When the truck started and her foggy head cleared, she continued berate herself. She didn't stop until they reached the next house.

Eight

This is Skye

Squeals of children rang through the air as Dylan pulled into the driveway of a cream-colored ranch house. A boy and two girls, between six to ten years of age, ran through the yard chasing each other. The oldest girl took the lead, her brown hair streaming out behind her as her bare legs pumped below her pink t-shirt and shorts. A quick twist to glance behind her was the girl’s undoing. Her brother, who was close enough to use that short distraction to catch up, touched her shoulder.

“Tag!” he shouted.

It was odd watching the normal scene. It seemed like so long ago since Skye sat on her front porch and saw the neighborhood children playing the same game. Where are all those children now?

“Too loud,” Dylan mumbled.

“They’re kids.”

“Yeah, and I want them to stay alive. To play again another day.”

Skye grimaced. They were too loud, hadn’t she and Dylan just worried about every small noise they made at the last house.

Dylan mistook her expression. “I ain’t tryin to be… I don’t mind them playing.”

“No, I understand. They are very loud. It’s just… I don’t know… sad.”

Dylan nodded. “It is.”

At the rumble of Dylan’s truck in the driveway, a barrel-chested man with mahogany-colored hair came to the door. He held a rifle in both hands, ready if he needed to be, but on seeing Dylan he set it down, tipping it against the door frame. A big smile broke out across his face.

Dylan waved out the window while he explained Dan’s situation to Skye. “Dan is trying to keep his family away from everyone so make sure the kids don’t get too close.”

Dan waved his kids closer to him as Dylan opened the door of his truck. Dylan slammed the door shut and leaned against the vehicle as if to tell Dan he would stay right there. He said, “Hey” and introduced Skye with a wave.

Skye popped up onto the window ledge again and greeted him and the kids. Dan seemed taken aback by her presence, but the children jumped with excitement.

“Don’t mind them,” Dan said as he laughed with affection at his brood. “They’re like little puppies sometimes, and they haven’t seen anyone in a while. I pulled them out of school the second the news broke about the AgFlu. Kept my whole family right here on this little patch of ground, hermit-style. Not a single one of us has gotten sick.”

“That is wonderful,” Skye said with a grin.

One of the girl’s had pulled their mother to the door and pointed to Skye. The woman‘s gaze bounced from Skye to Dylan and back to Skye again. She dried her hands on a tea towel as she introduced herself as Martha.

With all the questioning expressions, Skye decided she needed to explain her situation as quickly as possible before the whole mountain fired up with gossip about her and Dylan. But as she told Dan and Martha of her plans the little light in their eyes didn’t go away. Oh well, there isn’t anything else I can do. Let them think what they want.

“So do you need anythin?” Dylan asked Dan.

“Nothing big. If you come across some of those candies the kids like, I’m sure they‘d be grateful for them.”

“Candles,” Martha blurted. “We need those or a lantern or two. It gets so dark up here at night now without the outside lights working.”

Dylan pulled a little tablet out of his back pocket and wrote the items down.

“I wanna Matchbox truck,” said the boy. “The one with red flames on the side—”

Dan shoved his boy behind him. “Pay no attention to him.” He turned to his son. “This isn’t like ordering at McDonald’s, Jake. This is for important stuff.”

Dylan continued to scribble in his notebook, then looked up at Jake. “I put it on the list. In case I come across it.”

The boy smiled. “Thanks!”

Skye could see Jake‘s request had stirred up envy in his sisters. “You’d better ask the girls now, or you’ll be in trouble with them.”

Dylan laughed and took their orders. Any kind of art supplies for one, and a doll for the other. Dylan sighed; it was time for the bad news. “We stopped by Smyths.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dan said. “How are they doing?”

Dylan shook his head.

Martha pulled the children away from the door, and Dan nodded for Dylan to continue.

“We came on Debbie, sittin up against a tree.” Dylan said. “She was already dead. Apparently out sick and wandering. Not sure about the rest of the family. They’re just gone.” Dylan pointed to the trees. “Out there in the forest or picked up and taken to town, I don’t know. Both their cars were there.” Dylan rubbed his palm across his chin. “I’d be watchin if I was you and keeping things quiet.”

Dan got paler with each bit of news, and now his gaze scanned the woods. “Thanks for telling me. I’ll be keeping the kids inside, and I’ll call someone for Debbie.”

Dylan nodded. “Appreciate that. We better be moving on now. See ya in a few days.”

Skye waved as they backed out of the driveway. “Cute family. Are they from around here? Their accent seemed different.”

“They‘re from the north part of the West Virginia. Moved to the mountains a few years ago for a job. They say they love it up here.”

“I’m sure they do. It’s beautiful.”

Dylan grunted his agreement.

The next house was Dylan‘s friend, Joe, whom Dylan had earlier said he wanted to holler at. Joe appeared at the door before the truck pulled in the driveway, he seemed as alert as Dylan to his surroundings. Dylan had let out a long, low breath on seeing Joe, his lips curving into a slow smile. He threw the vehicle into park and jumped out. It was obvious the two men were close friends, and under normal circumstances, they would never have had an entire front yard separating them. Skye grinned.

Joe was just as tall as Dylan but with a thinner frame, still he was built strong enough it was noticeable as he folded his arms and leaned against the side of his house.

Skye looked around the property. His modest, fixer-upper cabin seemed in the process of renovations. Joe confirmed that when he told Dylan he was taking advantage of the time to get things done. There were several small outbuildings similar to Dylan and Wade’s house. From what Skye could see of Joe and his home, he had the same love of the outdoors as the Coles.

And apparently, a penchant for pretty, dark-haired women. After getting a nod from Dylan, Skye jumped out of the truck and came around to stand beside him.

Dylan didn’t blink an eye when Joe gave a soft whistle and said, "So, who's the good-lookin gal ya got there, D?"

Skye gave Joe a quick smile then looked at the ground and scuffed her foot.

"This is Skye. She got stranded along the road. Wade and me brought her home. Helpin her out for a while is all," Dylan said glancing at Skye.

"Well, that's real nice of ya," Joe drew out, "real nice indeed." Skye took a small step backward hoping the truck would hide her pink face.

"Stop it," Dylan said, "Ya know it ain't like that. There's a boy too."

"Oh, yeah, that changes everything," Joe laughed.

"Stop," Dylan said again, with a low chuckle.

Skye turned to go back to her side of the car. Why do some men have to act like they are fifteen-year-old hormonal messes no matter what their age?

Dylan grabbed her hand. A shock went through her, and she looked at their entwined hands. She warmed to the feel of his rough one against hers.

“Sorry,” Dylan said,” Joe’s not a bad guy, he just likes to tease.”

Skye raised her head, sure that her thoughts were written all over her face. “I can tell.” She uttered a small, nervous laugh.

When Joe changed the subject, Skye was relieved. She stood quietly beside Dylan. When would he let go of her hand? She should pull away, but she didn’t want to.

Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t! You are leaving, going home. Let go. Let go right now.

Dylan gave her hand a light squeeze and let it go without looking at her. Skye folded her fingers over her palm. She could still feel the warmth he’d left there.

This is just a reaction to the chaos around me. I’m grasping for safety. Literally, it seems.

The men’s conversation drifted to her, and Skye joined in. “How are things going in Colton? I left there a couple of days ago as the Infected were coming through.”

“Wow,” Joe said, “that must have been crazy.”

“It was.”

Joe shifted to lean against the doorjamb of his house. "Well, I talked to my granddad yesterday. Some people did get sick from them infected, but most got away, so that is something. The infected haven't been back through again. Heard the sheriff and his men ran 'em off."

"Tom Jackson? He's my cousin," Skye said.

"Tom Jackson is your cousin?" Joe asked. Surprise covered his face. He stared at Dylan. "You know that?"

Dylan gave a slight nod.

Joe let out a low whistle. "Well, the plot do thicken, don't it, D?"

Dylan looked out at the trees instead of responding.

Joe raised an eyebrow and turned to Skye. "Yes ma'am, that's the very one. Heard he did a real good job of shooing them outta there."

Skye remembered the first time Tom had been brought up with the Coles. What went on between Tom and them?

Dylan wrapped up the visit though he clearly dreaded doing it. Skye offered her phone number to Joe so he could call Dylan if he needed.

Once the truck was on the road again, Skye glanced at Dylan and asked, "So what happened between you and--"

Dylan stopped her. "Don't ask," he warned.

"But Dylan—“ she started again.

"Don't ask," he said. "You said you didn't need to know, so just drop it."

Skye shot him a sidelong glance. The muscle in his jaw twitched more than once. He was being as patient as he could.

She put a hand on his forearm. “Okay, sorry. I’m just too curious, but it’s between you and Tom.”

Dylan nodded. “Thanks.”

Skye turned to watch the landscape as it blurred by and tried to ignore her imagination as it filled in the blanks.

I’m aching to know what this is about. But, I won’t push for his secrets when I have my own I don't want to share.

Nine

Need Something

Dylan changed the subject from secrets to the task at hand and informed Skye they had one more stop up yonder. "We have to get out and walk in there,” he said. “It's just an old man and woman. Last time I was there, they worried they were gettin sick. They might need somethin."

It was heartwarming this rough guy cared so much about others he made these neighborly trips. If someone had ever accused Dylan of caring for people, Skye was sure he would deny it up, down, and sideways. But he did.

Dylan stopped the truck near a small path alongside the road and began his detailed instructions on what to do or not to do in case of trouble.

Skye agreed to everything, nodding and repeating whatever instruction he felt necessary.

He ended with, "No matter what else, listen to me if something comes up. Things can happen quick."

That I believe, but since we have seen no sick other than Debbie, who had passed away beside the tree, it shouldn't be an issue.

Dylan gave her a hard stare. Skye smiled back at him.

“I hope,” he said, “you’re takin this serious.”

“I am!”

Dylan waved her out of the truck, and they began their hike to the house.

Finally, that was longer than cruise ship safety procedures. I'm surprised we didn't have a drill. Skye chuckled to herself.

The beauty of the area captured her attention. Rays of sunlight shone through the tall trees lighting up little pockets of greenery below. A creek bubbled somewhere to the right but try as she might Skye couldn't see it. Two chipmunks scurried across Dylan and Skye's path as they chased after each other.

Every so often, Dylan paused and held up his hand for Skye to stop. They'd stand quietly as he examined the trees until he said it was safe to move on.

And I hear nothing except what is right in front of me. He must have amazing hearing.

A small flock of silent birds landed in the canopy above their heads, and Skye looked up and let her gaze follow them. Too late, she saw Dylan stopped in front of her.

Skye’s foot twisted as she stumbled over a small log and slammed into the back of Dylan.

Dylan turned and grabbed her upper arms to stop her from falling.

"You okay?" He whispered.

"Yes, I tripped over this piece of wood." Skye tapped the log with her foot.

"Your ankle okay?" Dylan crouched down and slid his fingers around it.

His hands felt warm and solid as he ran them along her foot and ankle. "I'm fine, I am. I should have been looking at the ground instead of the birds."

Which is what I’m sure I promised in the truck during the 101 Things Dylan Wants You To Do If You Dare To Travel In The Woods With Him List. Now I have already failed.

Skye squirmed under his hard gaze. Dylan’s eyebrow rose. “You were lookin at the birds?”

Skye looked at the patchy, thin bit of grass beneath her feet. I’m sure that wasn’t the first rule I broke. She imagined his wince every time a twig snapped beneath her shoes.

After his reminder to keep her eyes on the path and several other things she wasn't doing right, they continued on. This time she would do better.

Skye kept her gaze glued to his back or the trail at all times. Not even the cutest grey squirrel scurrying up a tree beside her could take her eyes from Dylan.

Soon, they arrived at the edge of a small, colorful glen with a cozy, old-fashioned log cabin in the middle. A little wood barn sat to the right of the house with a cow and a few chickens peacefully gazing beside it.

Dylan crouched down and indicated that Skye should too. She studied the home along with him but saw little else.

Skye glanced at Dylan and followed his gaze. Nothing. She looked at him again. He looked worried.

She tapped his arm. When he looked at her, she mouthed, “What?”

“They ain’t here,” Dylan whispered.

“How do you know?”

He pointed to the windows. “No lights. Even during the day, old people leave lights on.”

His finger moved to the door. “The door is shut tight, which is odd for them.”

Then to a fallen branch across the walkway. “They wouldn’t leave that be for ten minutes let alone for long enough for the leaves to be dyin.”

Dylan tipped his head to the barn and the animals surrounding it. “The barn doors are open so the animals can get more food.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Only if you’re not going to be around, animals have feeding times. Also, the gates are open. They don’t want them trapped in there.” Dylan whirled his hand around them. “And it’s quiet. Mostly.”

Skye listened. Besides the occasional creak or wind in the trees, Skye heard nothing.

Dylan continued to study the area.

You can't say he isn't thorough. Something he said— “Mostly?”

“There’s somethin.” Dylan put a finger to his lips.

A sliver of unease slide through Skye, but Dylan didn’t seem worried, only cautious.

Something small tickled Skye's neck. It seemed insignificant, but what if it moved down her shirt? She didn't remember bugs being covered in her instructions from Dylan. It stopped crawling, and she waited.

It moved again. No. Stop. Just fly away or whatever! You will get me into trouble.

It continued deeper under Skye's collar. Oh, my goodness, how big is this thing! Okay, what are my options? I’m quite sure I can’t slap anything, but can I brush or flick? That may have been in the small print.

The bug wiggled again. Before she could stop herself, her hand jerked to sweep it off. Skye caught herself and slowed.

Dylan's head whipped around. Skye sagged and closed her eyes, preparing herself for another talking to. Busted! I thought I was so quiet too!

Skye opened her eyes. Dylan wasn't looking at her. He was looking past her.

Skye turned to search the woods behind her. I don’t hear anything.

Dylan tapped her shoulder and put his finger to his mouth.

He does. Skye nodded and watched him scan the area to her left.

Dylan’s eyes darted to a new area. He peered earnestly in that direction, then to a third spot on their right.

A bead of sweat formed and rolled down the side of Dylan's taut face, sliding over a pulse in his jaw. His hand gripped his bow, his body tight. Skye’s unease grew as the tension radiated off him.

His eyes bore into the forest, searching for the answers he sought.

Dylan’s gaze returned to Skye, and he signed that there were two Infected on their left and one, maybe two, on their right.

Skye’s heart stopped, and her eyes widened. One would have been bad enough. One they could handle.

Her stomach lurched, and the blood rushed from her face as Dylan eyed her. He laid a gentle hand on her arm before signing that together they would slip back to the truck.

Lastly, he pointed a finger at her, then his ear, then him. She needed to listen to him.

Dylan need not have worried. Following his orders was her only purpose now.

Ten

I Don’t Want To

With caution, Dylan rose and took a step. He looked back at Skye and indicated she should place her foot exactly where he did and keep herself low to the ground.

Dylan noticed Skye's lack of weaponry and scolded himself for not giving her at least a knife. It hadn't occurred to him she would need one. Though he'd ran into a lone Sick person occasionally, he had never come up on them in packs.

Dylan glanced back at Skye, making sure she was keeping up.

Her face was so pale. If she passed out, he wasn't certain how he would get them out of this. Hopefully, these were all Sick ones, not Infected.

The Sick would be easier to escape with their stiff limbs and awkward gait. The Infected were able outrun Dylan if he needed to carry Skye.

Skye was careful, painstakingly so. She imitated Dylan's every move to the smallest detail. As the Infected came closer, Skye caught what Dylan had already heard.

A snap of a twig here, a stir of a tree branch there.

It spurred her on. She wanted out of here, safe in the truck and headed to the cabin.

She flinched at their slight noises, and tried to control her breathing, but her gasps wouldn't be controlled. Air struggled to burst out of her lungs. Instead of sustaining Skye, it seemed to suffocate her.

Other than the noise of the Sick, the woods were quiet now. Even though the small creatures were not in any danger from the infected, it was as if they were aware something deadly walked among them. They huddled, silent.

Skye's desire to flee combined with her dread and lack of air caused her feet to tangle. She stumbled. Once, then twice, falling against Dylan.

He looked back and saw the naked fear in her wide-eyed gaze.

Taking her hand, he brought it to his waist and curled her fingers in the soft cotton of his shirt to help steady her. He tapped her hand a couple times with his fingers, telling her to keep it there. She nodded.

Skye‘s fist lay against Dylan’s side. His ragged breaths raised and lowered his stomach, straining his tight muscles as the tension flowed through his body.

Another snap grabbed their attention. A shuffling sound. The Sick were being less quiet now, becoming confident.

Dylan stilled and listened for a moment. One hand rested on his knife, and the other held his crossbow.

Dylan started their careful trek again, picking up their pace. Skye wasn't sure if the Sick knew they were here or not, but it seemed Dylan thought they did. A few more quiet steps, then more stirring from the Sick again.

Skye swung her head to a rustling of branches to her left. Are they searching for us? The Sick wouldn’t do that. They’d attack us if they ran into us, but actively hunt us, no. She shuddered. These ones are aware.

Sweat trickled down Skye’s body. Her trembling hands clutched Dylan's shirt harder as if it would to be the source of her salvation.

Dylan gave his head a little shake as if refusing to acknowledge this was happening. Scowling, he turned back to Skye. His palm laid against the side of her face and neck as he pulled her ear to his mouth so he could whisper as quietly as possible. "Be ready. I think they are comin for us."

It was Skye's turn to deny the situation. She groaned and shook her head as well as she could between Dylan’s head and the hand he had firmly planted on her cheek.

He said, “When I say run, you run for the truck like hell-fire and brimstone is chasin ya. If anyone comes after you, go to the paved road. If I'm not there in five minutes, drive for the cabin.” He pulled back and stared at her.

Skye scowled and mouthed, "No, no, no!" Is he crazy? I'm not just leaving him here!

He stopped her midway through the third "no" by tightening his grip and bringing her ear close to his lips again.

Skye’s fear made her senses more acute. She felt the outline of his every finger against her cheek and jaw, his other hand gripped her arm, her hair stirred from his breath as he spoke.

“Yes! You listen, ya hear? If you have to go, I'll make my way back to the cabin. We're not that far away.” He drew back again and stared into her eyes. “You go.”

Sadness covered her face as she mouthed, "No, I don't want to."

Dylan’s hands became gentle on her even as he tugged her tighter. "It'll be okay,” he whispered close against Skye’s ear. “You need to get back to Wade and the boy to tell them about these Sick. They're closer to the cabin than we'd like. We gotta keep them safe," Dylan drew back just enough he could scan her face.

Skye searched Dylan’s face from his hairline to his hard jaw, then settled on his dark-blue eyes. His gaze didn’t leave her, and she returned it. Tears welled up and spilled when she looked down. Skye wiped them away and pulled in a deep breath, giving him a determined nod.

Relief showed in Dylan’s gaze. “We will go on together until we can’t anymore. Get ready to run.”

Pain had long since settled in from the awkward, slow crouch Skye had been forced into, but she was quick to forget about it every time there was a noise from their pursuers.

For every step that Dylan and Skye took, it seemed those chasing them took two, continuing to get closer with each passing moment.

Skye shuddered when their whispering and muttering grew louder. Whether they whispered to one another, or each was lost in themselves, Skye didn't know. She didn't want to be close enough to find out.

Eleven

Run

One thing Skye did know, these were not the gentle fall to sleep Sick. These were hostile, confrontational ones.

She trembled with realization. AgFlu. Aggressive Flu. I thought that stupid nickname had only meant that the flu was a fast advancing disease. What it means, what they've been trying to tell us, is that the people become aggressive. It was right there in that stupid name all along.

We had been warned.

Dylan stopped and held Skye back. They both dropped into a crouch. Frantic to move, Skye breathlessly waited for direction. The Sick were coming. She and Dylan had to get out of there, or they were going to die.

Skye swallowed a scream as the thorny brush to their left thrashed. One of the sick pushed its way through the thick undergrowth. Thistles grabbed at its clothes and skin leaving blood-red welts before they let go. When he broke through, a second one followed.

Both were men. Both in the advanced stages of the disease. Their chests heaved with every breath, their fingers, lips and even their arms no longer a normal color. They were dark blue.

From the open fear on their faces, they seemed long past simple delirium and had entered into a stage of genuine terror. Their bulging wide eyes darted from here to there, seeing imagined shadows. Before they locked onto Dylan and Skye.

The leader dragged his leg as he walked. He turned and lumbered toward them. The other one followed. His muttering caused the red foam dripping from his mouth to fly out in front of him.

Skye’s heart raced. For a moment, she closed her eyes against what came toward her, but she needed to be tough. At least some of them were Sick and not only Infected. That would increase their chances of getting out of here.

Skye patted Dylan and pointed. He nodded that he saw them, then tipped his head to the right. Skye, following his gaze, could make out the bodies of two more.

Dylan examined the Sick and became more confident on seeing their lumbering gaits. Skye took assurance in that. The scream she restrained behind clamped lips lowered to silent frantic moans.

Any second now, Dylan would tell her to run. Skye rose slightly, her thighs burning from the position as she waited for his orders.

Skye felt Dylan's stomach tighten. He rose to his full height, breaking the connection between them.

"Run!" His voice rasped out the word. Skye darted one last questioning look to him. He nodded.

Given the go-ahead, Skye flew down the small dirt path they had come up. She threw a glance over her shoulder. Dylan stood tall, concentrating on his target.

The thawp of a bolt as it left the bow, and the scream that echoed through the forest when it hit its mark told Skye his aim hit true.

Skye ran. No one pursued her, the only sound was her own ragged breath.

She glanced back down the trail. They surrounded Dylan. She slowed for a second before speeding on.

Do what he said.

Another bolt, another shrill scream, another body hitting the ground.

He has this under control.

Skye’s heart sunk when the heavy thud of more than one body pounded against the dirt. Dylan yelled every curse known to man as he went down.

He's in trouble.

Behind her, Skye could see the thick undergrowth thrashing as Dylan fought. Her foot hit something, it skittered away.

She stopped a moment, listening. Low, angry grunts and the bash of a fist hitting skin came to her.

Skye's fingers traced the word etched in her bracelet. Strength.

* * *

Dylan gritted his teeth. This was a situation he’d hoped never to be in.

It ain't their fault. They're not in their right mind.

But he had no choice, not if he would get out of here. At least, he’d sent Skye running. If he didn’t make it, she would get word to Wade.

Dylan had never intentionally shot anyone before, but squeamish stomach or no, now wasn’t the time to back down. He aimed and let his arrow fly. Still, he could not bring himself to end them, no matter their miserable existence.

One bolt, then a second, into the legs of a man and woman. They fell to the ground and huddled there holding their injuries.

That left three. Dylan stared them down as he readied himself to take them on.

Dylan swung his bow. It collided with the head of the nearest man. The Sick dropped to the ground.

Dylan felt hot breath on the back of his neck and shoved an elbow up at the mouth it came from. A wild glance to his right and a push at that one held him off for a moment.

In an instant, they grabbed at him again. Dylan threw a couple of punches but together they overpowered him. The Sick men were alert enough Dylan detected a gleeful look in their eyes. Dylan turned from one to the other, backing up as he went.

With no time to load his bow, Dylan tried to swing it in the small space left to him but it was only an irritation to the men.

Dylan’s hand reached for his knife. This just became a brawl. Before Dylan wrapped his fingers around the grip, the last two jumped him.

* * *

Skye squinted down the trail, struggling to make out what was going on behind her as she rubbed the ankle she had bumped. She glanced down to see the same small log she had fallen over earlier laying on the path.

It’s long enough to be a weapon.

She picked the branch up.

Do as he says.

And weighed it in her hand.

He’s trying to protect me. I get that. And yes, he has skills I don’t have, but I can bash someone over the head. At least hard enough to stop them.

Dylan’s throaty, ever-increasingly loud curses reached her ears, and Skye shuddered at what she was talking herself into doing.

I have to. There’s only me here to help him.

She straightened as an unexplored aspect of her nature became clear to her.

I leave no one behind. Not like this. Her grip on the log tightened. If we live, he can be mad at me!

Skye ran straight back to Dylan.

* * *

The first two Sick Dylan had taken down, rolled on the forest floor, each with a bolt in their legs. They were more ill than the rest and didn’t have the wherewithal to know what to do.

One woman lay unconscious on the ground.

Dylan fought like a wildcat with the last two. After taking Dylan down, the two Sick enjoyed pummeling him, neither cared where their fists landed. They seemed to just take joy in the feel of their fists slamming against his body. Each time Dylan made a move toward his knife, another punch would fly at him causing him to turn or curl to protect himself.

One of the Sick men tired of the game, and instead came at Dylan with an open, dripping mouth. Disgust flared in Dylan as he rolled away from him only have his claw-like hands drag him back.

His attackers’ jaw moved from side to side as if anticipating the bite. Red saliva hung from his lips. His breath smelled putrid, like rotten carcasses.

Dylan’s strong arms strained to keep the man at bay. Muscles, tendons and veins outlined against Dylan’s skin as he fought against the Sick man intending to rip into his flesh.

He was losing the battle. A punch to the side of Dylan’s head had left him dazed. Teeth snapped by his ear, and he jerked.

Dylan shook his head. His vision cleared, and he spotted Skye holding her branch. No!

Another snap, another punch to his gut. Dylan glanced at Skye as she geared herself up for her attack. She held her lip between her teeth but released it as she inhaled deeply preparing herself.

Whether he liked it or not, Skye headed his way. Relief for himself went through him as he fended off a punch with one hand and the snapping Sick with the other. His stomach swirled in apprehension for her. But she was clear of any attack, so he prepared for hers.

Dylan pushed the man trying to gnaw on him as far away from himself as possible and nodded to Skye. That one should be her target. The diseased man wailed in frustration and redoubled his efforts to get to Dylan, and Dylan’s arm strained to hold him at bay.

He grabbed Dylan's arm in both hands and lowered his jaw. Skye hurried to stand over him and raised the thick branch high over her head. She brought it down with enough force to knock him out.

When the man slumped to the ground, Dylan pushed out from under him. He grabbed the punching man's head and joyfully thumped it on the ground.

"Enough already!" Dylan said with a kick at the sick man’s side.

After a quick scan of the area to make sure they were safe, Dylan let out a long sigh.

Twelve

Over

Skye gave Dylan a once-over as he hauled himself up and shook himself. He studied her as she stood on the other side of the fallen body, her arms wrapped around herself.

“You okay?”

Skye nodded. "I am. Are you?"

Dylan patted himself. “Yeah, I think I am.” He blew out a long breath. “Too close.”

Skye dropped her arms and spun her bracelets. "Look, I know what you’re going to say. That I didn't listen, but I did. I listened to you, and I ran. I listened and realized they were not coming for me." She frowned up at his stern face. "I listened to you go down. And I listened to myself to go back for you. I helped you!"

“There's that.” Dylan looked down and kicked at the trail. “I can’t be mad at you for saving my hide.”

One of the Sick moaned. Dylan walked over to it and grabbed hold of the bolt, pulling it out of his leg. Skye grimaced and shivered, but the sound didn't seem to bother Dylan one bit. She turned away when he pulled on a second arrow.

With the used bolts in his hand, Dylan waved her up the path. “Come on, we have to go. They’re waking up.”

"No, we have to help them... don't we?" Skye moved to walk to the nearest one, and Dylan put a hand on her arm to stop her.

"It's dangerous to be that close to them."

"But we're immune," Skye said.

"You sure about that?"

Skye hesitated, "I'm not 100% sure. I don't know that anyone is."

"And if we're immune to the airborne part, are we immune to a bite or the spit?"

Skye shook her head at the leaf-covered ground and shrugged.

Dylan took a step toward Skye. “Come on. You ain't gonna be able to help them and keep the boy safe. Even if we're immune, maybe we could carry it back to him."

Skye winced as she peered down at the man she had hit over the head. Tears welled in her eyes as she remembered the last person who had needed her help. She had walked away from her.

Skye gestured to the Sick that scattered the ground. “What about them? I'm not... I don't know what we're supposed to do here. But just... leave them? I don't know.”

Dylan rubbed at his scruffy jaw. “I’ve been callin the Doc to send someone out to gather them up, but he hasn't been answering lately.”

“Yes,” Skye said, “he’s gone to Fenton. What about Bill from Riley's? The funeral home? He may be aware someone. I heard him on the radio just before I left my house.”

"Sure." Dylan looked over the damage they'd done. "Til then they'll be okay. Ain't too worse for wear, a coupla headaches and a coupla holes. They'll do all right."

Another moan and Dylan put his hand to Skye's shoulder giving it a slight push. Skye gave them one last lingering glance, still unsure about this decision, but what else could they do?

The path to the truck seemed so much shorter now their lives were no longer in danger, and Skye grinned in relief for a moment as she settled herself inside the vehicle. But as they drove down the road, the adrenaline and emotions over what she and Dylan were forced to do became to show. Skye’s hands shook so much the only way to slow them was to clasp them together.

Dylan’s eyes were on the road and his hands gripped the wheel. He glanced at Skye. “Your running skills are impressive.”

Skye gave him a little smile. "Thank you. I'm sure it had something to do with sheer terror." She raised her trembling hands to study them.

"It'll pass," Dylan said as a twitch shook him. He wasn’t as shaken as her, but his occasional jerk showed the run-in had affected him too. Dylan might be tough, but he wasn’t so hardened that the chaos of this new world and the decisions it demanded he make left him unaffected.

He glanced over at her and ran a hand over his chin. “I can tell that was hard for you.”

Skye hung her head and nodded.

“It should be, for both of us. I hope we never get used to all that.” Dylan glanced at her again. “That’s why I wanted you up that trail.”

Skye opened her mouth to protest.

“Look, Skye, I'm real glad you took care of that guy. But most times,” Dylan frowned, “most times, I'll need you to be where I tell you to be. I can’t fight and search for you. I need to trust you to do that.”

Skye reached out and touched his forearm. “You can trust me. You can trust me to have your back.” Her voice was firm. “I can help. I understand what you are saying, there needs to be a leader, but I need to be able to use some judgment."

Dylan looked out the window and back at her again. “You have no judgment to use.” Skye didn't answer as she turned away from him. "It's just you don't have the know-how to be out here with all this goin on. I shouldn't've brought you.”

“Then where would you be right now?” Skye asked.

Dylan huffed out a sigh and shrugged a shoulder.

Unsure of his response, Skye’s first words were tentative. "Your right. Teach me. Show me how, so I can be of help. This is the world now. I need your knowledge. I need it for me, and I need it for Jesse."

Dylan’s eyes opened wider, then narrowed. “Okay. Ain’t gonna be easy though.”

“I didn’t figure it would be.” Skye shot him a little smile and laid her head back against the seat, taking a few slow, deep breaths to steady herself, then she looked over at Dylan. “Did you get any of their saliva or blood on you? They didn't bite you, right?”

“No, don't think so. Couldn’t have gotten through my jeans or boots.” Dylan looked over his arms. “Arms look good.”

Skye averted her eyes and held back a chuckle. Yes, they do.

Dylan looked down the top of his t-shirt, then raised the bottom up over his chest and ran his hand over his abs. “All good.”

Skye’s eyes widened. Two long lines of old scaring ran down the side of his body from his upper back down to the top of his abs. Something bad had happened to Dylan when he was a child.

"I better check your back." Skye tucked her legs up on the seat of the truck and steadied herself in the moving car by holding his headrest. She pulled out the neck of his shirt and peered down his back. It was laced with burn and strap scars.

Skye’s heart ached. Dylan had been beaten badly in his life. Though a couple of the scars were newer, most were a decade or two old. She'd noticed the cigarette burns on his and Wade's arms before. Those were nothing next to this.

Skye tried to stick to the business at hand. ”None there. Let me check lower."

Dylan moved forward hugging the steering wheel as she pulled up his shirt from the bottom. Her fingers brushed against his hot, bruised skin. He flinched and glanced her way.

Skye’s throat ached as she looked at one of the worst abuse cases she had ever seen. So many scars, even knife wounds. Did his step-father stab him? What kind of man does any of this to a child? No, not a man. That is no man at all. What do you even call a person like that?

Skye's jaw clenched in raging anger. "Bruising is starting, but no bites. You are good."

Settling back in her seat, Skye tried to be inconspicuous as she wiped a stray tear from her eye and ignore the troubled glance Dylan sent her way.

* * *

Dylan hardly noticed his scars anymore until something like this came along. He didn’t like that Skye had seen them, but Dylan appreciated that she hadn’t gotten all emotional about it. A little tear was nothing next to some of the extreme outbursts he’d heard when people saw the scars that covered him.

Still, he didn’t like the sadness on the woman’s face. “It’s all right, Skye.”

Skye turned to him, anger now mixing with the heartbreak, though her tone was soft. “No, Dylan, it’s not. A child’s home should feel like a sanctuary, be safe, not what you had. To endure a childhood like that, it must have been misery.”

Dylan grunted as a twinge moved in his chest, an emotion he rarely allowed himself to consider. A wish he could’ve had the happy, secure boyhood others had. He quickly shut the thought down—wishing never did any good.

But Skye was right, and Dylan acknowledged her words with a small nod. "Well, it is what it is."

Skye looked down at the truck floor, then at him. "I'm sorry you went through that."

"You ain't got nothin to be apologizing over." Not wanting to discuss the subject further, Dylan changed it. "So, what's up with the Sick biting?"

Skye blinked a couple times. “I’d forgotten most people aren’t aware of what this disease is. The biting comes from the rabies side of the virus. Rabies rewires the brain. People, animals, its the same. It's a smart virus and needs to transfer by blood or saliva so it makes the Infected want to bite.”

"This thing is rabies? Uh. Makes sense, now ya say that."

Skye explained her visit to the Fenton Hospital then said, “AgFlu is in other countries too. The disease is rabies mixed with the 1918 flu epidemic, the worst flu of all time, highly deadly on its own. The Disease Control estimated about 70% of the earth's population would get the illness. As we are aware few survive the AgFlu.”

Dylan scoffed. "More'n that are dying. How exactly did these two get combined?"

"That, no one owned up too. The doctor's friend theorized that the AgFlu was part of germ warfare but wasn't sure if the sickness was the US's, and got loose by mistake, or if another country sent the virus over here."

Staring out the front windshield, Dylan said, "Either way, we’re screwed."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

Skye sat back against her seat. Then jumped and yelped.

“What? What’s wrong?” Quick as lightening, Dylan reached across the seat and pulled her to him as he slowed the truck.

Skye sat forward and pulled her shirt up from the bottom. “Please, get it off! There’s a bug on me since before they came after us. It’s still stinging me!”

Dylan saw the problem and pulled a bee from her back and flicked the insect out the window, then drew the stinger out and rubbed the spot. “How’s that?”

“Better. But it still hurts.” A little pout colored her voice.

Dylan held in a chuckle. She probably wouldn’t appreciate him finding her cute right now. “Well, all I’ve got is spit right now so we’ll need to wait until we get home to fix it up.”

“No, that is gross.” Skye tried to reach around to touch where it still hurt.

“Let it be. It’ll will be fine in a few minutes.”

“I know,” she mumbled as she tried again.

This time Dylan smirked. “I said, quit fussin, woman.”

Skye flashed him an irritated look.

Dylan laughed. It didn’t bother him at all, in fact, he kinda liked seeing those green eyes blazing a bit of fire in his direction.

Thirteen

Tell It

When they arrived at the cabin, Skye helped Dylan unload their haul. Wade came outside, excited to see what they found, and started hauling it into the house. Skye jumped from the back of the truck and picked up a box of food to take in.

Dylan followed, but stopped a frown on his face. He stared at the living room light shining through the open window and grabbed a backpack he kept in the truck bed.

He glanced at Skye. “I can't go in there.”

Puzzled, Skye looked from him to the cabin and back again, "What? Why?"

At that moment, Jesse stepped out the front door. Dylan raised a hand to stop him. "Look, we don't know if I got infected. I need to stay away from the boy."

Skye shook her head. “You didn't get anything on you, we checked.”

Wade came out of the house for his next armful and stopped. “What’s goin on?”

Dylan looked at his brother. “We had a run in with some Sick. I think I’ll stay out here for a few days.”

“A few days?” Skye asked.

Dylan ran a hand through his hair. “It's airborne too, and I was real close to them.”

Skye sat the box back down on the tailgate. “But you said you'd been sick and fought it off."

"But we ain't sure."

Skye groaned. “I wish we knew more about this. I was sick too. Perhaps we’re all carriers now and aren‘t aware of it. Whatever we are, Jesse hasn’t gotten sick yet. Dylan, you don’t have to do this.”

Dylan hesitated, bouncing the strap of his pack in his hand a few times. “I have to. Just a couple nights then to make sure I ain't got the quick kind." He looked from Jesse’s wide-eyed gaze to the ground and back again. "If something happened to that boy 'cause of me..." He shook his head. "I‘ll be right here so I can help keep an eye out, maybe sleep in the truck bed.”

Skye nodded and guided Jesse into the house as Dylan called Wade over and told him what Skye had learned at the hospital.

Jesse looked up at Skye. “Is this my fault? Cause I’m the only one who hasn’t been sick?”

Skye put the box on the table and turned to Jesse. “No! It’s no one’s fault, it’s just the way the world is right now. We have to be careful. Dylan is doing what he thinks is best.” She smoothed back his hair and looked at the boxes piled around the room. “Okay, buddy, somehow we have to fit all this food into this kitchen. Are you up to the challenge?”

“Yeah!”

Before they’d gotten far, Wade came stamping in. The moment he shut the door, he opened his mouth. The information that Dylan shared with him about the AgFlu disturbed him and brought up a flurry of conspiracy theories. It became clear this was one of Wade‘s favored hobbies.

While Skye and Jesse put away can after can of food, Wade spoke of terrorist attacks from other countries, of U.S. conspiracies against its citizens. By the time she opened the final box, Wade was certain it was clumsy scientists that caused the disease.

Skye shelved the last can and high-fived Jesse. Wade had spewed theories on top of theories and stories Skye could never dream up in an entire lifetime.

She kicked the empty boxes over to Wade, hoping they would slow him down. “Can you get rid of these, please?”

Wade nodded and gathered them up, his booming voice fading as he walked out the door.

Skye sent an eye roll to Jesse, which he returned. But when Wade walked back into the house and shut the door, he started where he left off, if possible, more insistent about each fine point of his assumptions. Jesse had his hands to his ears as he hummed to himself.

Skye put a hand to her throbbing head and her eyes narrowed. Dylan knew what he was doing when he left after telling Wade the news. This is probably the real reason he stayed outside. He was aware of what was coming. "Wade, stop! We can't take it anymore! Please, please we want to get some sleep."

Wade opened his mouth to object but before he could say anything, Skye pointed to the front door. "If you need to continue, you go outside and tell it to your brother, cause we can't--we just can't anymore."

Wade blustered. “Now listen here, Skye, what if--"

"Out, Wade! Out now."

Wade shook his head, his mouth turned-down and headed outdoors. “You just don’t get it.”

When Wade wasn’t back the next morning, Skye assumed he stayed outside with Dylan and smiled.

Jesse and Skye went through the clothes and other items they scavenged. Jesse restrained himself, as usual, from any large reactions, but he couldn’t hide the twinkle that came into his eyes as Skye showed him his new clothes. A smile curved the corner of his mouth when he spotted the model truck kit Dylan had found for him. He darted a glance at Skye.

“That is for you, Jesse. Dylan got it for you.”

Jesse's voice filled with amazement. "He did?"

Skye smiled through her sadness. Had no one ever gotten him a gift before? She ran her hand down his hair. "Yes, he did."

"It's new." He cautiously reached out for the box, inspecting it from all sides. "My friend had some. I helped him with them, and I always wanted one."

“And now, you have a truck,” Skye said. “This is a good one?”

"It's a great one!"

Jesse would be preoccupied for the rest of the afternoon if not the day. Skye smiled and gave his thick, dark hair another soft tousle before leaving him to it. She laid the men's new clothes on the bed and put her own away.

The past two days had been unlike anything she had ever imagined she would live through, but scavenging had given her an appreciation for things she’d never had before. And she had done her part, not just relied on Wade and Dylan to supply her needs. She lightly dragged her fingers across a t-shirt, a glow of pride filling her. Doubt in herself had overwhelmed Skye since this had begun, and it was nice to feel something else.

Fourteen

Not Proud

Tonight, it was Skye’s turn to cook, and earlier, she had noticed a clump of chives growing alongside the outside cabin wall, and decided they would be the touch she needed. She stepped outdoors and turned the corner only to come face to carcass with a hanging deer, and Dylan up to his elbows in it.

Skye did an abrupt one-eighty and put her hand to her mouth. Sheesh, I think I almost lost my breakfast! Too late, she remembered Dylan saying something about his catch.

Dylan gave an amused grunt. "I got a deer."

Not wanting to slight all his achievement despite her queasiness, Skye gave the most supportive answer she could. "That's great!"

As much as I appreciate his hard work supplying the dinner table, seeing this first hand, I can only think, poor little deer.

Her cheery reply didn’t fool Dylan. Skye’s face had said it all when she’d turned the corner. Her typical city girl response seemed both funny and a bit disappointing to him. "You want to eat, don't ya?"

"Not now, I don't!"

"I told you I was doin this."

“You didn’t say right here!” Skye jabbed her finger at the ground below her.

"Well, you’re gonna be smiling about my skills when you sit down to dinner this winter and have something to eat."

Skye sighed. He knows I won’t be here over the winter. But now wasn’t the time to remind him so she changed the subject. "So last night--"

Dylan cut her off. "You gonna stand with your back to me then?"

Unsure if he was teasing, irritated or something in between, Skye nevertheless determined to avoid facing the deer. "Yes, I am. I may enjoy deer later, but I don't enjoy it like this today."

Dylan chuckled as he watched her cross her arms and set her hip.

Skye cleared her throat. "So your brother--"

"Yeah, he does go on."

"That is the understatement of the year. I had to send him outside."

Dylan gathered up saliva and spit. Even from where Skye stood, the smell of the carcass filled her nose and mouth, she couldn't imagine have one's face so close.

“Yeah, I know,” Dylan said, “he woke me up and ran on some more about it.”

Skye couldn't hold in her giggle, "Well, better you than me. You wound him up by telling him! You should've waited."

"Yeah, well, I didn't think it would come back on me.”

Skye laughed at his sour expression. I knew it!

Skye pulled out her phone to find no service. Her mouth twisted in disappointment. Tom should call soon. Just in case, she tried dialing, but nothing happened. She pocketed the cell before cutting the chives she came out here to get then waved to Dylan before heading back into the house.

The smell of lemon cleaner drifted through the cabin clearing away the deer’s stench. Wade stood at the sink, scrubbing. His efforts didn’t surprise her, she regularly saw Wade and Dylan with a wash rag or broom in their hand.

“Smells good, Wade,” Skye said with a smile.

Wade glanced over his shoulder at her. "We grew up in a broke-down cabin. Somethin like this before we fixed it up. But that house was squalor, and I mean the full definition of the word. Dad most often had moonshine in one hand and the other in the waistband of his pants, if he bothered even to put ‘em on that day. Dylan and I tried cleanin up from time to time, but we never got nowhere. We ain’t talked 'bout the mess we lived in much, but when we found this camp, we patched it up and kept it up. We reckon it's not much, but we don't never want it like where we grew up."

"Don't talk your cabin down, Wade. It's a lot more than not much. You two have made it a home. I love it."

The idea that she liked their home seemed to surprise Wade. “Figured you were used to better than this.” He waved his arm about. “Ya smell of money.”

Wade wasn’t wrong. Skye’s home in Colton boasted large, beautiful rooms she decorated with care and updated with her favorite creature comforts. It awed some of her neighbors, but her home was nothing compared to her parent's house.

Skye’s mother came from wealth and wasn't afraid to use it. Skye was the first to admit, though, that she herself seldom held back when there was something she really wanted, but she was also aware that there was more to a home than awesome gadgets.

"Material things? Yeah, but that doesn't make it better. As a home, this is every bit as good as the one I grew up in." Skye gave Wade a warm smile.

A bit of pink came to Wade’s cheeks. “Well, that’s fine, I reckon. Just fine. This place means a lot.” Wade’s life had clearly held few compliments.

Skye heard one loud stomp on the porch before Jesse came flying in. Coated in dirt, he ran through the living room to the bathroom. Skye giggled. The tub will be black tonight! Dylan stood by the still-opened door, filling a water bucket. Dirt, blood and who knew what else also covered him. How Mom would squirm if she were here.

On an individual level, all three of the males appeared to revel in the dirt. If they took a step outside, it seemed to magnetize to them. It was a rare day when she would see any one of them clean during working hours, but they settled for the night completely washed up.

Skye returned to making dinner. She glanced at Wade as he stopped his cleaning to inspect the window pane. He was most often found around the cabin, walking the roof or with his legs sticking half out of a cupboard as he tightened this or that. Dylan, on the other hand, preferred the woods and willingly ran to any work or activity that required he be there.

But there were many areas, the brothers overlapped, like their love of cars. One or the other was always under the hood of Dylan’s truck, and now, Skye’s Jeep. Skye laughed to herself. Either the vehicles are in horrible repair, or they possessed the most spotless engines known to man.

Now in the kitchen, Skye was a captive audience, and that was something Wade would never pass up. As she chopped and sliced, Wade told the story of the cabin with pride in his voice. “I made everything in here from free junkyard parts or scraps from other people’s houses, including the downspouts. The neighbors didn’t mind at all we were fixin this place up after we found it, long as we left them alone.”

“How did you find it?”

Wade looked away from her. “We came crossed it one day is all. We found it and moved in.”

“Just found it and moved in?” Skye asked. “Just like that?”

Wade shrugged. “Yep. Just like that.”

“How different our lives have been.” This time Skye looked away. Her family always had so much, gave her a great start in life. Theirs had little and given them nothing, not even kindness.

In so many ways, Wade and Dylan still had so little. She turned and scanned the room. Are they squatters on this land? Is that still a thing? But they've come a long way from their childhood. Doubtless, the happiest they've ever been is here in this little cabin.

"So you don't own it?"

Wade's huge belly laugh filled the room. "Na. Never owned nothin in our lives except what we carried on our back. Well, 'til Uncle Pete gave Dylan that ol' truck out there. No, we was kids when we found this place, maybe 14 and 17. First, we just stayed a night here. Then Dylan said we should move out here. So, we did. It was a holy mess at first, but we settled in it anyway. Anything to get away, well, out of dad's house. It helped us keep—you know--"

"Your sanity."

"Yep, best thing we ever did. Neighbors said it'd been sitting here awhile. They didn't seem to mind us takin it over. Kinda took us in even, gave us food and the like every once in a while. Always wondered though if someone would show up and claim it one day. Guess that ain't likely to happen now." Wade smiled at the thought.

Skye chuckled. I guess there is even a good side to the apocalypse.

"But I reckon what the best thing for us wasn't the best thing for our mom. This cabin was the beginning of her end."

Skye stopped mid-cut on a potato. "What do you mean?"

Wade stammered and shifted his weight. "Well... I dunno. You ever done somethin you ain't too proud of?"

"Yeah, Wade, I've done plenty." Scenes of the worst ran through her mind.

Wade hung his head. He looked at the floor before looking at her. "A girl like you? I bet it ain't all that bad."

"Well, I guess that depends on what you call bad."

"Tell me," he demanded.

She stopped and turned to him; her voice low. "Wade."

"Tell me.” He was turning this into the ultimate Truth or Dare.

Skye hesitated, her heart fell to her stomach at the thought of revealing her secret, but if she would ever be privy to their secrets, she would have to expose hers.

"Tell me." Wade demanded again.

Some little indiscretion wouldn't do. Something weighed down Wade. He needed to see that others suffered in the same way, and she was close enough now to test her.

Still, she didn‘t know why she was willing to tell him. Maybe because she kept her story shoved so deep inside for so long. Something she wasn’t permitted to talk about, tried not to even contemplate or maybe because now it didn't matter. They may all be gone now, anyway. It can't hurt her anymore, not that way, because they can't put her away.

Skye nodded to Jesse when he asked to go out on the porch and turned back to Wade.

It still ached to relive what she had done. Her body curled inward as she wrapped her arms around herself. Skye avoided Wade's gaze and bowed her head, her dark hair half-covering her face.

The house was quiet, so quiet now as Wade waited. Skye took a moment, listening to the tiny house pings and creaks that, at a normal time, passed unnoticed.

She had no tears, the distress lay deeper than that now. Every morning she woke to it, and every night it tormented her as she slept. It was part of who she was.

Skye took a deep, unsteady breath and let out a burdened sigh. Unable to face him, she turned back to toward sink, and told him what he wanted to hear.

"I helped murder someone."

Wade stepped backward but didn't say a word.

Those words took Skye to that day, and she tightened her crossed arms. The flashing red and blue lights, flaming lights flying around her, bouncing away and back from the buildings that closed in on her.

Wide-eyed terror, that is what she remembered. The ice-cold, hard metal hood of the police vehicle, pushing against her body as the police forced her over the car. The handcuffs tightening and closing, making that little click that seemed to close her off from the rest of her life.

On that day, numbness groped its way through her, taking up residence in every part of her. She had hoped it would cut off all feeling, and maybe it did, except for the ache that lived on for such a long time. Skye shivered.

It crept over her again now, the chilly fingers pulling at her, willing her to let the emptiness in. With a feeble push, Skye chased it away but not far. It skittered back to its normal distance, just within range of her mind’s eye. She stared unseeing out the window as she told the story that appeared to her in flashes.

"College. Hazing,” Skye explained. “They were all doing it. They did it to me when I began. We drank, we all drank—them too. Maybe a bump or two. The new ones, the ones trying to get in, they had to drink the most. We made them—made them do stupid things, silly things, dangerous things. They were ours to play with as we wished.”

Skye trembled. "I helped shut the car trunks. Not hers, I don't think, but a lot. They had to stay for the night in this creepy junkyard. High, drunk, people freaked out. They screamed as we drove away.”

Skye squeezed her eyes shut. "I wasn't there when they opened the cars. They said she tried to claw her way out. Drinking, drugs, panic. I don’t know, but she was dead.

“Perhaps her heart gave out, or she ran out of air. I asked no questions. I didn't want to know.” Skye put her hands on the edge of the kitchen sink, forcing her shoulders up as she hung her head again. "That is one thing I'm not proud of."

Skye glanced at Wade. He looked stunned. He would assume a girl like her had it all. His voice turned grave when he asked, "Why ain't you in jail?"

Skye blew out a quick breath. “I was, for a little while, but I had wealthy parents and a powerful grandfather with connections. He got me out—out of it all."

With her back still to Wade, she removed her hands from the sink and re-wrapped her arms around her middle. "Totally erased—can't even tell I ever was on the property. That's another thing I'm not proud of. All the others had to pay, and I should’ve paid too."

Wade stayed silent, but Skye’s ears pounded with the rush of her pounding heart. Her cheeks burned. What would he think of her now?

Skye dragged herself around to face Wade. But, his wasn't the first face she saw. It was Dylan's.

Fifteen

Not Enough

Dylan took a step back, out of the doorway, turned and walked away, berating himself. Skye’s face had paled when she saw him standing there. This was something she wished to share with Wade. Not him.

When Skye spotted him, tears of shame had filled her eyes. They had almost been his undoing. She hadn't wanted him to know.

Her story shook him to the core. He would have never guessed. I guess I always expected people like her to have everything together, and here she is carrying that around.

Dylan stopped and kicked at the ground. It was a surprise that Wade and her were that close. He thought his brother got under her skin.

Well, of course, he did, only not in the way I thought. All the times I’ve been out hunting or scavenging while her and the boy were at the cabin with Wade. He’s always had a way with people once they get acquainted with him. When they push past his annoying side, they love him. Who knows what's been going on when I'm not here?

Dylan scraped at the ground again and blew out a heavy sigh as he rubbed the center of his chest. I've let myself get too attached. With one last glance over his shoulder at the cabin, he headed to the forest.

When Dylan returned to the house that day, Skye, Wade, and Jesse were in the yard. Wade gave Jesse some pointers on the snare he was trying to set up, and Jesse immediately put them to use. It looked like he took to it naturally.

The lawn was littered with the camping equipment from Skye’s Jeep, and she stood in the middle of it all. Her face got redder and redder as she tried, without success, to set up a large tent. Wade snickered at her attempts, and Dylan couldn’t stop himself from chuckling as he watched from a distance. When Wade saw Dylan, he nodded him over.

Skye glared at Wade when she heard his laughter. "What are you laughing at? It says easy. It is not easy!" She huffed her words out between heavy breaths. "If you were a nice man, you would come over here and help me."

"Yeah, well, I ain't never said I was a nice man." Wade looked at Dylan, nodded toward Skye, and winked.

Dylan sighed. Yeah, I get it, bro. Your layin claim.

Regardless, Dylan took pity on Skye. He walked over, picked up the correct pole and handed it to her. "Skye, you need a tent, but what's all this other stuff?" His arm swung over the outdoor kitchen complete with sink, stove and even a paper towel holder. Then the hot outdoor shower with its own privacy curtain and a portable toilet.

Skye avoided Dylan's gaze, instead looking at the ground and the tent, anywhere it seemed but him. "The sales guy said it would make camping easier. If I have to camp, I don't want it to be just the dirt and me."

"Sounds like the sales guy fed you a bunch of bull to line his pockets," Wade said as he continued to grin.

“Skye,” Dylan said, “Some people may camp like this, but not us, and you’re with us now.”

“But Jesse—”

Dylan snorted. “Don’t be bringing the boy into this, he’s slept in a hole in the ground more’n once. He don’t need all this to survive.”

Skye stepped back and looked at Jesse, who shrugged. Dylan wasn’t sure if she was more surprised over the information or the fact that Jesse already felt close enough to Dylan to tell him these things. Guess we’re all lettin out the past now.

She let go of the tent, letting it fall to the ground, and flapped her arms. "What then?"

Dylan pointed to Skye‘s cabin tent. “That's too big. Not only can you not set it up quick but it's for about twelve people.” Moving over to the rest of her equipment, he said, “You need about a third of this, even less once we show you how to live out there.”

Skye puffed out a breath, disturbing some hair that had fallen forward on her face. “Fine then.” She brushed the loose hair back and stepped out of the jumbled items.

She still won‘t even peek at me.

“I hope you didn't waste as much on it as it looks like you did,” Wade said.

“I did.” Skye shook her head and shrugged. “It‘s only money.”

Dylan and Wade exchanged a glance. When Jesse saw it, he piped up, "Ya, Skye's filthy rich, just filthy. I was at her house once. It's crazy. She has..."

"Jesse." Skye patiently stopped him, her face turning pink. "Things don't matter, remember? I probably won’t ever live in my house again and no one is rich now. Not in that way."

Skye awkwardly turned to Dylan. "Please show me what I really need."

Dylan and Skye pared down the camping supplies to necessities while Jesse worked on his snare. When they were done, Dylan looked over what they had accomplished. “Well, that looks fine. Good job.”

Dylan glanced at Skye, hoping to lighten the mood between them, and sent her an amused glance. “Next time,” he threatened her, “I think I'll show you how to set a snare and skin the catch.”

Skye put her hands on her hips as her eyes sparkled. “Well then, I think I’m turning vegetarian.” Dylan uttered a deep chuckle as he walked away.

When Skye laid her hand on Dylan’s arm, he glanced from that to her face. She bit her lip, looking up at him with nervous green eyes. "So, you don't hate me now?"

Dylan frowned. "What are you talkin about?"

She bowed her head. “What you overheard in the kitchen. Do you... does that... I don't know…“ She fluttered her hand away from him.

Dylan gentled his voice. "No, I don't hate you. You were a kid, and you did a stupid thing. Kids do stupid things."

She shook her head and raised it. Once more looking directly at his face, "It was more than that. I was an entitled, self-involved, rich brat who assumed she could do anything she wanted without consequences."

"Maybe, but you ain't like that now. You're better." Dylan laid his hand on her shoulder and let his thumb stroke her arm.

"Maybe." Skye looked at the ground. “I try to do better. I’m a work-in-progress—like most people, I guess. At least, that’s what I try to tell myself.”

Dylan caught the downward curve of her lip and heard a small sniff as she half-turned away. He turned her back. "Skye, you are. Look at all the good you've done. Look at that boy over there."

Skye nodded. “It never seems enough though.”

"I know that too." Dylan folded her into his arms, then remembered Wade. When Dylan looked over Skye’s head at his brother, Wade gave him a knowing expression and a raised eyebrow.

Is he wanting me to back off? Dylan stepped back, muttering something to Skye about snares and walked off.

Sixteen

Happy for You

That evening, Skye and Jesse debated which card game to play. Skye wrinkled her face and rolled her eyes at Wade's obvious suggestion of strip poker and ignored him. Deciding on Go Fish, Skye and Jesse invited the men, but they refused. Dylan seemed to keep his distance, instead preferring to clean his weapons at the kitchen table. Wade stated if they would not play a game he wanted, he would not play theirs.

Skye and Jesse sat on the floor, spreading the cards out between them. As they played, Jesse happily chatted with all of them. "We used to play games during my sessions all the time. Skye always let me pick the game."

Skye prompted him. "Which was always...”

"Jenga, of course, because you suck at it, and I always, always win."

"Yes, thanks for that, by the way." Skye laughed at both his pride and the truth of his words.

"So, what did you have sessions for? You crazy, kid?" Wade asked.

Skye sighed. Well, he’s in a mood. Leave it to Wade to undo weeks of therapy.

But Jesse took it in stride, answering him with his same bubbly manner. "No, I got taken from my dad, so I had to see a therapist."

Wade opened his mouth again to continue with what Skye could only assume would be another stupid remark, so she shot him a "You better shut it" look. At that Wade hoisted himself out of his recliner to sift through the vast array of chips that still occupied the side table in the kitchen.

Dylan grumbled at his brother in a low voice Skye couldn’t catch, then stretched out on the floor beside Jesse. "You played games at therapy? Sounds like fun."

“Yeah, Skye's pretty fun. Course she had to do some things for her job, so she had to ask me questions now and then, but mostly, it was fun.” Jesse turned to her with a glint in his eye. “Cause I beat her butt every time in Jenga."

Skye smirked at him surprised he admitted it was entertaining because as far as she could recall, he'd spent much of it in a sullen mood. She poked him in the ribs. "Hey, I was busy being the world's best therapist. It's hard to do that and win games too."

"Oh yeah,” Jesse taunted, “but I bet if we had a Jenga game here you'd still lose."

"Um, we’ll just have to wonder about that since we don't have one," she teased.

Dylan seemed more at ease with Jesse tonight than Skye ever remembered him. A shadow of a smile rested on his mouth. It was not a teasing smirk or a sarcastic snort, those she had experienced before but the grin of a happy man. It reminded her of the first time Jesse had smiled that way for her. Just the tiniest upturn of the lips, a subtle softening of the face. One didn't dare show you noticed, or it would evaporate at once.

She wondered if Dylan would be the same. Skye caught Dylan's eye and shared a small smile of her own. He returned her grin for a few seconds, then glanced at Wade and cleared his throat.

Dylan hopped to his feet. “Welp, I better finish those dishes.”

Skye allowed her eyes to settle on Dylan’s back. Well, that is an improvement to what he would have done a few days ago.

Skye checked herself. She was drawing closer to all three of them much faster than she had anticipated. Jesse, she had expected and looked forward to, but the two men, especially Dylan—that was a surprise.

Uneasy, she resettled herself on the floor. She was leaving. Becoming emotionally closer to someone, relying on them, that wasn’t part of the plan and would only make it harder when it came time to leave.

Skye bit the inside of her cheek and ran a finger down the pattern of wood grain floor as she realized how often her gaze turned to Dylan if he were near, and how many times her thoughts strayed to him when he wasn’t. When they were in the same vicinity, Skye sensed his intense stare lingering on her, and more often than not, he would end up beside her.

Her mind wandered to her disastrous marriage. It was a sharp reminder of how inept she was at relationships. And that is why I stay away from men, I'm not ready for this.

Skye stared at Dylan as he stood at the sink, his back to her. She followed the motion of his body as he slid a cloth over a shiny, tan-colored plate. His broad shoulders swayed back and forth; biceps jumped in tandem with the movement of his rough hands in the sudsy water.

Attraction battled her uncertainty as amusement over what she found attractive slipped over it all. I have to say there is nothing sexier than watching a man do the dishes.

Skye forced her gaze away instead looking out the window at the rolling, green-topped mountains. As soon as I hear from Tom, the decision will be out of my hands. I’ll be going home.

* * *

Wade nodded his head to Skye when she tipped hers indicating she was headed outside. Jesse bounded up off the floor and followed her. Wade watched as they jumped off the porch laughing, a warm spot growing in his chest. It was real nice having them here. He liked it.

He flung a glance Dylan’s way as his brother returned to the table. Dylan sat in his chair, muscles tight, as if he expected to burst out of it at any time. Wade shook his head. He wished he could say it was his brother’s nervousness over Skye and Jesse outside alone, as his quick glances to them gave away, but it wasn’t. Dylan had been this way since he was a boy, and it was his quick reflexes that had saved him a ton of hurt when their father had come after him. If Dylan hadn’t given up that stance by now, he had to wonder if he ever would. Did the man ever really rest?

They didn’t get an opportunity to talk alone as often anymore so Wade reckoned he better say what he needed to say while he could.

Dylan returned to the table. Wade poured himself a cup of coffee and offered to refill Dylan’s, then joined him.

Wade cleared his throat. He didn’t want to mess this up. “So I wanted to talk about Skye— "

Dylan gave him a sharp glance and cut him off. "No need. I see where it's headin."

"Yeah? That’s good, real good. I think it's coming along, bro. Can't wait to see what the next step brings." Wade nudged Dylan and gave a low chuckle.

A look of pain flashed across his brother's face.

"D?"

"I'm real happy for ya."

Wade reared back in his seat. “Real happy for—” His entire body rocked with amusement.

Dylan frowned as his indignation flamed. “Stop. It’s one thing to sit here with you bragging about it, but another for you to make fun.”

Wade held up his hands as he struggled to swallow his chuckles. “Real happy for you, bro. For you!" Wade poked a finger into Dylan’s shoulder. “You idiot, all that trackin, and you can’t read what right in front of ya.”

Surprise darted across Dylan’s face, and Wade slapped his forearm a couple of times. "She's a real nice lady. Bit uptight for me. She keeps eyein you up though."

When Dylan turned to stare out the window at Skye running around the yard with Jesse, something lit in his brother he hadn't seen in a long time. A small flare of hope burned in his eyes.

Seventeen

Not Easy

The day was wearing on much faster than Skye like with no word from Tom. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket. Two bars of service—that was a lot nowadays. She couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get in touch with her family.

Her hands shook as she tapped her parent’s numbers on her phone. What kind of news would there be? She hoped for the best, but still worried about her mother’s raspy cough.

The phone clicked. “Dad?”

Her father sounded tired but happy to hear from her. “Hi, baby girl. You doin okay?”

Warm relief washed over Skye when she heard his voice then rushed to tell him her news. “Yes, I'm fine, Dad. Really good. We have everything we need.”

"You still with those boys?"

"Yes. I am, all safe and sound. How about you?"

“Doing okay. We’ve been going into the neighbor’s for food, the empty houses, plenty of those now. I can’t imagine us hungry anytime soon. We are just trying to pass the time. There’s not a whole lot to do with no TV or newspapers, but someone is running the radio station here.”

Skye imagined that her father, with his limited mobility, wouldn’t have much to keep him occupied in the suburbs.

“We’ve been busy here, Dad. The Cole’s are teaching Jesse and me more about fishing, some of the edible plants around here and self-defense. That takes a good part of the day.”

"Smart," her dad said, "those boys are smart. You keep that up, girl. It'll keep you alive."

"That's what I was thinking. We also scavenge some and check on the neighbors."

"You don't get close, do you?" Her dad’s voice sounded nervous.

“No, we yell at them across the yard. Some places up here are empty. People got sick or moved away, but some families are making it through this thing. How about our neighborhood in Ohio?”

“The street is getting empty between those getting sick and others leaving to be with family, but some stayed put and are doin okay.”

“How's everyone in the family, Dad?” When her dad hesitated, Skye asked. “Can I talk to Mom?”

Skye sensed something was wrong the minute she asked. Typically, one to hand the phone straight over to her mother, it was out of character for her dad not to even offer it to her.

The longer the silence stretched the more nervous Skye became. When her father did speak, he didn’t say what she hoped. "Skye, I didn't want to tell you this over the phone, but there isn’t any other way. We've had some losses."

Skye’s heart seized, and she bent forward. She had tried to prepare herself, but it hadn’t worked. She’d told herself that everyone lost someone to this thing, and she was no different. The pain sliced through her just the same. Tears spilled down her face, she knew what was coming.

Dad gasped out the words. “Your mom... she's gone. She didn't suffer like some. It was quick.”

Quick was something to be grateful for. Skye couldn’t imagine her despair if her mother wondered the streets disoriented and lost.

Her father sobbed and though Skye wanted to comfort him, she couldn’t control her own gasps. They cried together for a while, Skye clutching the phone as if it were her father’s hand.

"Oh, Daddy." Skye ran a hand down her face and wrapped her arm across her aching body.

"I know, Baby, I know," he said with a catch in his voice.

When he got control of himself, her father said, “Your sister-in-law is still here with me. Bobby and Janie were here too. We were doing okay, but Janie ran out the other night. She got upset about... well, about everything. Bobby ran after her. They haven't come back yet. Charlotte is beside herself with worry.”

The door of the cabin opened and shut behind her, but Skye paid no attention as she brought her hand up to wipe her eyes. "What? Dad, no! When? When did this happen?"

"Going on three nights ago now, I guess. It doesn't mean they’re not coming back, though. We're still hoping that they will."

Skye rubbed the growing ache in her chest with her palm. “You need me, Dad,” she said in tears.

There was a brief hesitation before her father said, “I need you safe even more, that means the world to me.”

“I can be there in a few hours,” Skye said. “If I have a full gas tank, I won't even have to stop. I’ll help find Bobby and take care of you.”

“No, baby. You can’t come, it’s too dangerous. We can't know what the roads are like between here and there. Promise you will stay there.”

"Dad." Skye shook her head.

“Promise me,” he demanded, “I hate to say it but there's nothin you can do here. Charlotte and I are either going to get sick or we're not. Bobby and Janie are going to come home or they ain't. You coming here won’t affect any of that.”

“Don’t say that.” She whispered the words. There was no denying the truth of what he said but there was more to it. He was a frailer man than he'd been as she grew up. Now he often sat in his recliner, a cane resting against his leg. He had battled cancer and won, but it had taken a toll. He needs me. My dad needs me.

“Skye, baby, please listen to me. Don’t make me worry I’ll lose you too.”

Skye struggled but gave in, "For now, I’ll stay here. I will check in every day I have a signal, but my cell phone won’t work much longer. It's a miracle it’s worked this long. Maybe Dylan can help me find a landline. Hopefully, that will work, so it may be a different number next time."

Her dad breathed a sigh of relief, "Ok, sounds like a good deal. Now put that boy on."

Surprised, she said, "Jesse?"

"Not the little one. The man. Dylan."

Still confused, she said, "Uh, okay." She turned to start for the front door only to see Dylan leaning against the cabin.

Skye said her goodbyes, and sent her love to Charlotte, then passed the phone to Dylan with a shrug. He took the phone as she tried to quiet her grief.

Dylan’s side of the conversation was short and to the point. There was a "Glad to meet you" and a lot of "Yes, sirs" and few things that didn’t make much sense to her, a goodbye, then he hung up. When Skye sent Dylan a questioning look, and he just shrugged.

“Real sorry about your mom,” he said.

Skye nodded and sobs welled up. Dylan moved closer and reached a hand out to her. She moved to him and let his arms give her the comfort her father's could not.

Skye tossed and turned all that night. She had promised a couple more days, but the feeling she should be with her father continued. They were her family; all she had left. All the reasons she shouldn't go rolled through her head, followed by all the reasons she should, over and over, through those dark hours. Grief for her mother tumbled with fear for her father.

What was the last conversation she’d had with her mom? Probably a normal call about everyday things. If she would have known it would be the last time, she would have said so much more. Mom was aware she loved her. Skye knew her mom loved her in return. It wasn't about that, it was about a conclusion, a finish. For now, anyway, for herself. She believed she would see her mom again someday, that she would be happy and healthy again, but Skye still felt the sharp pain of her loss.

Now it was just Charlotte and her dad in their house in Ohio. How worried Charlotte must be about Bobby and Janie! Her sister-in-law must long for the comfort of her own family.

If Skye could get to her dad that would allow Charlotte to go to hers. They lived just a half-hour away, and she could easily make it.

The situation was dire. Charlotte was not a strong woman, and a man with a cane wouldn’t fend off the Sick or anyone else trying to do him harm. Even I’m better than that.

Skye stopped tossing and turning and her sobs turned to steady breathing as she made her decision. She had no choice. Her dad needed her. She was all he had left. She had to go.

The now familiar sound of Dylan putting on a pot of coffee came to her. Somehow, she would have to tell him, tell all of them. They would think her foolish, stupid even, and they may be right.

This is not going to be easy.

* * *

Dylan poured the water into the back of the coffeepot as Skye’s bare feet padded across the floor. He was aware of what was coming. She didn’t need to say a word, he’d heard her tossing and turning all night.

He turned and watched her come the rest of the way. Her head bowed, arms hugging herself to ward off the chill, dark hair tousled from her troubled night.

Skye yawned, covering her mouth with one hand before lowering it back to her arm. She looked up at him, her green eyes wide and sad.

This ain't gonna be easy.

How he would keep his promise to her father to hold her here, he didn't know. Dylan picked up an afghan off the couch that an old neighbor lady had kindly given them and wrapped it around her cold body.

First things first. Might as well get this over with.

Eighteen

All Along

"You can't go!" Wade’s face became redder with each word.

"I have to. This has always been the plan.” Patiently, Skye explained for the third time what her plans were as the four of them sat, ill-tempered, around the table.

This has gone even worse than I imagined. I understand, I feel it too, but I have to go.

"Well, we can't take off just like that," Wade said, offering another excuse. "Dylan has been checkin in on people. We gotta let them know."

Her brow wrinkled. "I didn't mean for you two to take us.”

Dylan’s face flashed bewilderment, and it confirmed what Skye had been suspecting. For Dylan the attraction between them was far more serious than it was for her.

It's best to leave now and make a clean break. Something started in me, and him, on that little trail, but it’s something I‘m not ready for yet.

Skye’s mouth dried as she tried to reason with them. “I didn’t expect your help to get there, I mean. I’m aware you have others relying on you.”

Dylan pushed back on his chair and crossed his arms. He refused to look at her.

Skye reached out to him but stopped. “I never kept this a secret. I’ve always said I was worried about Frankie coming for Jesse."

Skye looked from Dylan to Wade and back again. “But you’ve done so much for us. I can’t thank you enough. What we have been through has drawn us closer together, and that makes it hard to leave, but this is probably best."

Dylan didn't say a word, instead he sat looking out the window as if wishing he were anywhere else as he gnawed on the side of his finger.

Wade was the one that fought for them to stay. "After the beating we gave Frankie, I doubt he would try to come after Jesse. 'Sides he's pry, you know," he said with a side glance at Jesse. He’d lowered his voice ignoring that Jesse was sitting right beside him and understood he meant dead from the AgFlu. "And if he ain't, well, he don't know where we live."

Skye sighed and held a hand to her forehead. “If that were the only problem, I know you two would take care of it. But I can't... not... go. I can't sit here worried my family will get sick and die when I can do something about it." She wiped away a stray tear.

Dylan sat up a little straighter in his seat. He spoke bluntly, staring at Skye’s startled face. "Whatever’s gonna happen, is gonna happen. You dying alongside some road somewhere ain't going make any difference."

Jesse looked from Skye to Dylan. “We can come back, can’t we? Dylan and Wade wouldn’t let anyone take me away from you, I know they wouldn’t.”

Skye gave Jesse a concerned glance. “But if the police ever got involved, they really couldn’t stop—”

Dylan bristled. “Not even the cops. Nobody’s takin the boy.”

Jesse smiled. “See, Skye, they’re like me. We help each other, and you help us. We all need each other. Say we can come back.”

This depth of emotion was a rare thing for Jesse. He was attached to these two men. If he felt this strongly about leaving, it was something she had to consider. Skye gave his arm a little squeeze.

"Okay then,” Skye shot a questioning look at Dylan, “what if we do come back? How would that work?”

Wade looked from Dylan to Skye and sucked in his lip. It made a squeaking noise.

Dylan shook his head. “If you made it back, your family would have everything they need. We wouldn’t let them go hungry.”

Skye smiled, she’d never though he would. “You’re right. It would be better here for them here. They’ll run out of food where they are, but here they would be able to farm if this thing keeps up. Could we take one of the empty cabins?” The idea grew on Skye and her enthusiasm showed. “What about that, Jesse?"

She looked at each of the men with her eyebrow raised. “Would it be okay if my family came here?"

Dylan frowned. "If you leave here, you ain't going to make it back. I go ten minutes down the road yesterday, and your whining at me I went too far. And you want to go, what? Hours? And expect us to be all right with that?"

Skye’s wide-eyed gaze lowered to the table. I did say that. He has a point. Why does he always have a point?

She tried to reassure him and her churning stomach. "It'll be okay. I told you, I won't get out of the car and I—.”

"It won't be okay. Why can't you see that?" Dylan threw his hand toward the door. "You don't know what is out there, and it'll kill you."

"What you taught me will keep me alive."

"I ain't taught you nothin. You'll need a lot more'n that." Dylan reinforced Skye’s own concerns. "You don't even know what Colton is like, and it's hardly down the road."

“Maybe it’s better than when I left?” She couldn’t stop herself from sounding hopeful.

"It ain't gonna be better. Things started in motion aways back, and things aren't getting better. Ever. This is the way it is now."

Skye totally missed his point, instead, focusing on one thing. "So you've seen it? Colton?"

"From the hill," Dylan said. "Ain't nothin hardly moving down there."

"So, it is safe to drive through?"

"No, that ain't what I'm sayin." Dylan leaned toward her as he ran a hand through his hair. "Why won't you listen, woman?"

"Why won't you stop yelling, man?"

At that, Dylan leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and in a mocking tone said, "Tell me Doc, what exactly is the proper reaction when you see someone tryin to kill themselves?"

Skye lowered her head to her hands and groaned. This is getting nowhere.

Dylan calmed himself and leaned forward in his chair. "I made you a promise out there in that yard, and I can't keep it if you go runnin off." He paused for a minute and his voice gentled. "I'll do better. I can try harder... just stay."

She raised her eyes to Dylan's guarded expression. With a catch in her throat, she said, "Oh Dylan, this isn't about you or anyone else not doing well. It is just about getting to Dad."

It was quiet for a minute; they could hear only the tic of some old clock. Skye took in a deep breath and blew it out again with each beat.

She stayed calm but determined. "Wade and Dylan, I need your help to map out the safest route, to make sure the car is in working order and to help my dad when I get back. And I am coming back. But I am going with or without your help. I have to. Don't you see, I have no choice. He will die if I leave him there.”

Skye looked at each one of them in turn. “We're leaving in the morning.”

This time it was Skye who strode out the door.

* * *

Shoulda known this was coming, but I thought she’d change her mind. The fire that had been building in Dylan’s belly doused with his take of the situation. I figured something was starting up with us. Apparently, she doesn't.

He hung his head. Why should she?

For all he knew, she went around hugging all kinds of men, looked up at them with those big eyes of hers. Probably not a man like me. A woman like her would have gone for a different kind of man than me.

He pressed his lips a few times as he picked at his fingers. They were dirty from the fire, from being in the woods, from any number of other things he did today. He brushed his hands together trying to get some of the dirt off but was unsuccessful. Every night he scrubbed but there was always some stain left behind.

It's wore into me.

This is who I am, and it ain't likely to change. I need to stop lookin at a woman who isn't lookin at me. I‘d reckoned she'd at least want me around to help keep her and the boy safe. She's always going on about that, but then she just up and takes off like this.

Dylan ddin’t know how he was going to keep his promise to her day, short of tying the woman up, and he didn‘t figure her father would want him to go that far. Dylan looked at Skye and saw the distress on her face. Maybe when you’re raised by parents that actually care for you, this is how you feel, willing to do anything for them.

I shouldn’t have taken that obligation. I only did it cause I thought— Don't matter what I thought.

That promise and the one he’d made Skye would haunt him. Dylan always kept his word, and now he’d broke it with two people.

Foolish, naïve, cantankerous, mule-headed woman. She won’t listen to one word of reason.

Dylan raised his hand and hit the table with his palm. Jesse jumped, but Wade just looked away. She will die out there.

Dylan picked up some breakfast dishes and took them to the sink. As he did so, he caught his reflection in the mirror. He looked at himself the way he imagined she saw him, calling himself the names others had often called him. Dirty redneck, hillbilly idiot, son of an abuser.

He'd figured out a long time ago that he wasn't high on any woman's Man List. He didn't know why he‘d reckoned any different now.

A flash of anger shot through Dylan, and he slammed the stack of plates in the sink, ignoring the crack of the dishes as they hit the stainless steel. "I ain't gonna be any part of this. Sendin her off like I don't mind it a bit.” Dylan’s words ground against the back of his throat.

He crossed the room, grabbing his filled backpack and took to his refuge, the forest.

Nineteen

You Never Know

Jesse was not happy. He sat on the living room couch his hands shoved deep into his pockets and kept quiet. When adults were fighting, he knew it was best to keep his mouth shut.

He listened to the back and forth between Skye and Dylan as it got angrier and angrier. Jesse wanted to stay here. It had been good here, better than he had ever remembered, and he didn't want that to change. Going somewhere else, anywhere else made him nervous. You never know how people are gonna to be.

He didn't know Skye's dad. He was probably a good guy since she was good, but you never know. Sometimes even good people have bad parents. What if he was a bad one?

What if her dad doesn't like me? Tells Skye not to keep me? It's not like she has to, she didn't adopt me or anything. It can be hard to have a kid. That's what they always tell me. He might tell her to take me back, or just leave me on the side of the road.

Jesse shook his head. He knew Skye wouldn't leave him beside the road, but she might find another home for him. He didn't want another place. Jesse wanted this one, with Skye, Wade, and Dylan. He liked Wade and Dylan. They understood him, and he understood them. It was like they all spoke the same language or something. He didn't have that with many people. And Skye knew more about him than any other person alive. She accepted the way his past made him act, that it made him, him.

But if Skye’s dad died, Jesse didn’t want that either. It seemed easy enough to drive up there, spend the night, and bring the old man back down here. Skye’s done a lot for me, I can do this for her.

Jesse got a funny feeling in his stomach as he watched Skye walk out of the house. He turned to Dylan and saw the pained look on his face. Jesse kicked the leg of the kitchen chair in anger then growled in pain. Now angry at himself and them, he ran outside.

Seeing a good-sized stick on the ground, Jesse walked over and picked it up, then hit the biggest tree in the yard with it.

After a few good, hard whacks, Jesse felt a little better, but when he saw Dylan cross the yard to the woods with his backpack, he started hitting the tree again.

Why do people have to be like this?

The sharp crack of wood against wood continued. Whack, whack, whack. The sound was familiar to him.

“Jesse.” Skye’s voice floated to him, soft as a late spring breeze, managing to be heard through the loud thumps and his hot anger. “Jesse. I’m sorry.”

He turned to the sound. Skye stood there with her hands out to him, tears on her face. Jesse dropped the thick piece of wood and ran to her.

He jerked to a stop just before he reached her arms and shouted, “Why do you have to yell?”

“I’m sorry, Jesse. I didn’t think about how it would upset you. You’re right, it’s not a good thing to do.”

Jesse stared at her for a moment, a fierce frown on his face. As much as he wanted to stay angry, the red-hot feeling was melting away with the sight of her sad face.

Jesse took a small step toward her outstretched arms. “Don’t leave me.”

“Jesse!” Skye closed the gap between them and tightly wrapped him in her arms. “Never!” She pulled back and brought her face to his. “I will never leave you. Never. If I’m ever gone, you come and get me, because I’m somewhere I don’t want to be. Do you understand?”

Jesse nodded.

Skye had tears in her eyes.“Do you understand?”

Jesse sobbed his answer. “Yes.”

Skye pulled him close again. “It’s you and me, kid. You got it? You’re not getting rid of me, like ever.”

Jesse scrubbed at his eyes, but put one arm around Skye, for once enjoying the affection. “Not ever.”

* * *

Skye smoothed Jesse’s hair back from his forehead. She shouldn’t have done stormed out. Of course, it would have this effect on him. Skye’s heart hung heavy that the poor boy would still find it hard to believe she would want him. She kissed the top of his head and resolved to reinforce her feelings for him until he understood them.

Skye had watched Dylan stomp across the yard so he wouldn’t be coming back tonight. She sighed as she and Jesse made their way back to the house. Wade stood watching them pack as if he wasn’t sure what to do until Skye nervously asked about Dylan.

“Well now, he took off for the woods. I don’t spect he’ll be back until you’re gone.”

She hugged a sweater she was in the middle of folding. “Wade, he is that upset?”

“Sometimes, for someone who’s supposed to calm people, you sure do get them riled up, and I reckon—well, I know, I thought somethin might have been starting up between you two. Dylan took it as a personal insult you didn’t want us around on your little trip. Can’t say I liked it much either.”

She pinked and stammered. “I didn’t say—I didn’t mean, you couldn’t. I just—it’s not your obligation to come. I only know I have to go.” Skye waved an entreating hand toward Wade. “I am coming back, you know.”

“He don’t think you’re coming back, and I reckon neither do I.” Skye tried to cut in, but Wade continued, “You’ll settle there or find somewhere better than here before you get back. Why would ya come back here to us?”

“Because I want to! I want to, Wade. Right here, with you and Dylan. That is what I said I would do, and I will do it.”

Wade stood, as unyielding as a statue, with his arms crossed.

Skye put a hand on his forearm. “Come with me then.” She smiled. “Make sure I come back. Will you help me, or am I doing this alone?”

Wade’s stern face melted, and he grabbed her up in a big bear hug. Skye suffered through the almost-suffocation of his happy embrace. When he let go, she ran her hand across her ribs to make certain they were still intact.

Wade started to throw some of his and Dylan’s things in a bag when a sharp knock at the door startled them all. Skye shot a surprised glance at Wade, and he waved her back. Guests didn’t show up often at the Cole residence.

Wade looked out the window and pulled open the door then stepped out. Skye heard the rumble of male voices. When Wade returned alone, Skye gave him a questioning look.

He shook his head. “Looks like one of the families have taken sick. More’n that, they’re well into it, and their neighbors need some help gettin them down the mountain before they roam around.”

“How sad.”

“I’ll get Dylan, and we’ll go over and help them tonight. Should be done by mornin.”

Skye agreed but frowned. “What if you’re not? If I don’t get an early start tomorrow, I’ll have to wait another day, and I’m worried about how much time Dad has.”

Wade ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “You could get started. Go slow, we won’t be far behind.”

He got out a map and marked the best route, then he helped Skye and Jesse pack up what they needed. Every so often, Wade sent a troubled look over to the forest trail where his brother had disappeared. “I keep hopin to see him standing there,” he said. “I’m worried about finding him, he can lose himself in there.”

“You’ll find him, Wade. He always seems to be there when we need him.”

After Wade helped Skye get everything ready, the two set up a system since they were splitting up. If someone ended up back at the cabin, but needed to move on, they should leave a note. If the Infected, Sick or other troublemakers compromised the cabin, Wade picked a second and third location to meet or leave word.

That night, Skye and Jesse tried to sleep despite their nervousness. With Wade helping the neighbors and unaware if he’d found Dylan it seemed like a long night. Skye could only hope that the men completed everything in time to go with them in the morning, and that Dylan had settled down now he and Wade would join her and Jesse.

Still, there was the chance the men wouldn’t finish in time and that she and Jesse would start off alone. If something happened, and they didn’t find each other, it may be a little while before she was back. She took a few minutes during the dark, restless night to write the Cole brothers a note.

Once the sun came up, Skye and a sad Jesse were in the car waving goodbye through hazy car windows to the empty cabin that had been home for the last three days.

Skye bit the inside of her lip and ignored the waves of uneasiness. The men hadn’t come home last night. She could only stick with the plan she and Wade devised the evening before and pray that Wade and Dylan would be behind them.

As crazy as it was to make this trip, it was unthinkable not to do so. What if her brother never made it home? Skye choked back a sob. Bobby and her niece might already be dead. Dad, and perhaps Charlotte’s, only real chance of survival rested with her. It wouldn’t take long for the quiet, friendly suburb they lived in to turn into something else even if they managed to escape any infection.

What Dylan and Wade had taught her and Jesse would be of enormous help. She had a lot to learn yet, but she didn’t have time to wait until she was proficient in everything.

In the moments she was honest with herself, it terrified her to be doing this alone. Her hand went to the steering wheel, and she clenched it tight enough to cause the leather to squeak. Her left leg started to bounce. She looked into the rearview mirror again.

Skye repeated to herself the assurances she’d given the men. She didn’t have to get out of the car. She would be careful. Glancing over at Jesse, she kept her face calm. She hadn’t let the men see her concern, and she wouldn’t let Jesse see it now. She had to stand on her own two feet.

Jesse stared forlornly out the window.

Skye squeezed his arm. “It’s just for a little bit, Jesse. I promise.”

“I like them. They keep the bad guys away. I wish they woulda got done sooner.” He breathed out a sigh.

“Me too.” She remembered all the long hours of sentry duty the men had done. “I’ll drive slow. I’m sure we’ll see them in no time.”

Skye set a leisurely pace. It’d take an hour to get down this mountain to Colton, maybe by then Wade and Dylan would have caught up.

Twenty

The Town

Welcome to Colton. Skye’s heart started a slow thump as she eyed the decorative sign. She pulled in a quick breath of air as she turned down the street and took in the surreal scene around her.

A month ago these sidewalks bustled with people heading off to work or the store, children riding their bikes or coming home from school. Now they were empty except for bits of garbage chased by the wind.

Most of the once-cherished homes stood vacant. Many with doors and windows opened to the outdoors, curtains billowing in and out of the casements. Skye scanned the area, searching for some sign of life, but she was hard-pressed to find any. Were Tom and Tricia the only ones left living here?

The front door of the Dollar Store lay smashed, the shelves bare except for a few scattered, torn items. Bits of glass and wood from the broken door littered the entryway. They reflected the early morning sun rays and threw the light in rainbows across her windshield.

The breeze pushed at an empty garbage can rolling it in front of Skye's car. She quickly pressed the brakes then tracked the can as it slowed near the back wheel of a deserted tricycle sitting on the street. It hit the little bike a couple of times and stopped.

Skye stared at the trash bin for a moment, her heart heavy. This was like a scene out of a movie. And even though it surrounded her, she had trouble grasping the reality of what she saw. Her beautiful little village was now a ghost town.

Had all towns suffered this kind of loss, and if they had, what were the cities like? If cities and towns across the world had lost this many people, how many were left? Her hands turned clammy. How would they live like this?

Dylan had warned her, told her life would be different now. But snuggled up in that welcoming little cabin for the past few days, she had been entirely oblivious to the changes going on in the cold world around her. But now, seeing it almost took her breath away, and not in a good way. How would any of them survive?

Jesse‘s fingers gripped the window sill of the car as he stared wide-eyed at the surrounding scene. “Looks like everyone keeps house the way Dad does now.”

Skye ran her hand through his hair and let a finger caress the side of his face as she said, "It will be okay, buddy."

Jesse raised an eyebrow at her. Neither of them believed that.

Skye looked him over. The boy was less shaken by the scene than she was, but he’d seen this kind of mess his whole life. It was normal to him. What wasn’t natural was that the entire town was that way.

Jesse set his chin on the window sill. “It’s kinda spooky with no one bein out there and all.”

“Well, at least that means no Sick or Infected either.”

“We should check out your house.”

Skye winced. It’d been on her mind to do that, but she almost hated to see what had become of it. “Okay.”

She swung a left at the next intersection and made her way to her little lane. There was a clear division between the first three houses on the street and the rest. The first houses were burned to the ground. Her house was the fourth, and it was fine.

When her eyes landed on her large, country home, she blew out a sigh of relief. Why she didn’t know, it wasn’t like she would live here anytime soon again. But even so, it was nice to see the wide porch with her red cushioned furniture almost untouched.

Garbage had made its way into her yard and driveway, but her windows and doors remained shut tight. This must have been where Tom and his deputies caught up with the Infected and pushed them out.

Skye looked at Jesse, a smile on her face. “I wish we had time to go inside, but we don’t, and perhaps we should wait for Wade and Dylan to do that, anyway.”

Skye bit her lip. Should she check on Tom and Tricia while she was in town? As of a few days ago, they were still here. But seeing Colton like this strengthened her resolve to go to her dad. Tom would, no doubt, give her yet another lecture on her unwise decisions. No, better to visit them on the way back. Then Dad, and maybe Charlotte and the others would get to visit too. Perhaps a text. But when she checked for a signal, there was none. If anything was still operating, she would be getting a signal here.

Guess phones are just about worthless now. A little niggle of uneasiness went through her. She stared at her phone trying to remember when she hadn't relied on it for something. Anna Lynn said it would be old school from here on out. I guess this is the first step. Skye still couldn’t stop herself from tucking it back in her pocket. Old habits died hard.

On the main road through town, Skye spotted movement up ahead. She drove closer and saw her neighbor, sweet old Mrs. McCleary. Memories came flooding back. Mrs. McCleary making sure Skye was settled in her house okay and bringing over baked goods warm from the oven.

What was the elderly lady doing out here by herself? Skye gasped when she took in the woman's condition.

Confusion covered the old woman's face as she turned this way and that as if trying to get her bearings. She held one arm stiff by her side, and the other flailed around seemingly without direction. Her mid-length white hair tumbled in a dirty snarl over her shoulders. Her usual pristine clothing full of holes and soiled with dirt streaks.

“Oh, no!” Skye slowed and pulled up beside the woman. There was no recognition in Mrs. McCleary's eyes as she shied away from the vehicle. Once the Sick were at this stage, sudden noises disturbed them.

Skye was close to the road leading to Emergency Services. She did an abrupt U-turn and pointed the car in that direction praying she could find some aid. On arriving, Skye and Jesse saw only an empty building with a large note on the front of the door telling everyone to go to Fenton for help.

Just as I suspected. Fat chance of that happening. Fenton is in ruins.

Skye glanced at the office again and wondered if Doctor Kinder and his family made it out of Fenton. She ran a hand through her hair. Skye didn’t want to leave Mrs. McCleary by herself in her condition but what else could she do.

She turned and drove slowly out of town. A town that that took her in, a town where everyone helped everyone else. It pained her she was leaving someone in need. It could have just as likely been Skye wandering around on that road. It almost was her.

Her mind flashed back to the day she and Dylan were scavenging. He’d told her he helped the Sick by giving them water and food. He left it in their path with the hope they knew what to do with it.

Skye hit the brakes. She asked Jesse to get two bottles of water while she leaned over the seat and dug around in her stash for a couple of protein bars.

"Uh, what are we doing?" Jesse grabbed the water and looked from them to her.

"What we can,” Skye found the bars and turned back in her seat. "It's not much, but we are doing what we can."

She swung the car back the way she came and stopped a few yards from Mrs. McCleary. Skye jumped out of the Jeep and ran closer to the woman.

Behind her, Jesse said, ”I don't think this is a good idea."

Skye called out to Mrs. McCleary. The woman stilled but didn't turn to look at Skye.

“Mrs. McCleary?” Skye held out the supplies to her hoping she would understand. “I will leave you some water and protein bars. I know it's not much. If you need more, there's some in my house. Just break a window and take it.”

The old woman slowly turned toward Skye.

“Mrs. McCleary? Do you see the food?” She took a couple more small steps to her.

The rise and fall of the woman’s chest became more pronounced. A long, gargled wail started. Low in pitch, at first, but rising until the screech bounced off the hills around them.

The flailing arm began to go up and down. Up and down. Up and down. The shriek continued to rise. Skye winced and covered her ears.

Skye stood frozen as Mrs. McCleary turned inch by torturous inch until she faced Skye. Her face red with fury, she took a deep breath and returned to her wail.

Skye hurried to set the supplies on the road. She calmly spoke to the woman as she did so. The screech continued. The arm chopped.

Skye shivered. The eerie sound coming from the woman seemed unreal. She moved backward toward the car sure there was plenty of time, but she wasn’t quick enough.

While the old woman had a bad arm, she still retained two good legs. Legs that had always been quicker than the average woman her age, and she used them now. Arm raised, wild, white hair flying, she barreled toward Skye.

Taken unawares, Skye watched the woman come, her breath caught in her throat. Mrs. McCleary took off at a run and made it halfway to Skye before Skye gathered her senses enough to move.

In a flash, Skye turned but slid on the pavement, going down on all fours. She huffed out a breath and ignored her scuffed hands as she heard what was behind her. Mrs. McCleary's snarled, angry breathing was loud and getting louder every second.

Ahead of Skye was the car and Jesse frantically screaming, "Skye! Skye!” Desperate, she scrabbled and righted herself. Her feet took hold just as she felt Mrs. McCleary’s gnarled fingers stroke her back.

A scream built up inside her when the woman’s hot breath fanned across her ear.

Jesse flung open the driver's door, still shouting at her over and over, “Skye! Skye! Mom!"

Skye dug deep and sprinted to the car, swinging around the open vehicle door. She came face to face with a frantic, furious Mrs. McCleary. Only the door was between them, and the window was down.

The sick woman's good arm reached out to Skye, grabbing at anything she could and capturing a fistful of shirt and hair. For one moment, Skye thought sorrow flooded her neighbor’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Skye said as she brought the car door back as far as she was able then flung her weight against it, pushing the door toward Mrs. McCleary.

The door forced the old woman off Skye, taking part of Skye's shirt and a chunk of hair with her. Jesse reached across the seat and pulled at her arm. "Mom! Come on, Mom!"

Skye jumped into the Jeep and slammed the door shut with one motion. She flung the still running car into reverse and tore away from the wild, sick woman.

Hands shaking, she positioned the car in the right direction and screeched out of the town. When she looked in the rearview mirror, Mrs. McCleary was already on her feet and chasing the vehicle. Skye bit her lip and sped away.

A few miles out of town, Skye stopped the car. Her body shook, and she needed to get it under control. She laid her head on the steering wheel.

Jesse patted her shoulder. “That's why you're supposed to stay in the car, Mom."

Skye raised her head and looked at him. She smiled, then broke into laughter, and Jesse joined in. She reached out, gathering him to her.

His body trembled as badly as hers. He patted her back again and said, "It'll stop in a bit."

This child of trauma repeated the advice Dylan had given her. How sad this young boy knew that already.

She nodded her head then laid it on top of his. "So, mom, eh?"

"Yeah," he replied softly.

“Yeah.” In the midst all the wrong of this world, this felt right.

Twenty-One

The Road

Skye and Jesse drove for two hours without seeing another living human, Sick or no. Occasionally an empty vehicle sat askew on the country road, and Skye would need to veer around it to continue. At one point, they came across a car turned upright on its side. It seemed to teeter every so often as it sat there in the middle of the road.

Skye took a deep breath and held it as she wiggled her Jeep through the narrow space between the abandoned vehicle and the sharp mountain drop-off. When she made it through, she gasped for more air to tame her thumping heart.

The story of each scene was a mystery. Some were relatively easy to figure out, others a puzzle. Skye and Jesse didn't look too hard, afraid of what was in those wrecked cars. While there were no living people, they saw plenty of dead ones.

It was foreign and eerie. Skye and Jesse's face often paled, and their eyes widened at the sight. Sometimes the deceased were in a car pulled to the berm, sometimes they lay in the open alongside the road, once a man and a woman sat up against a tree holding hands.

In most cases, their blackened bodies showed signs of decay, some bloated, some beyond that. Other times, the birds had been at them. Tears spilled down Skye face when they passed a woman who still looked normal. She must have come down this road only hours before.

These were stories no one would ever hear.

As Skye and Jesse drove on, the number of abandoned cars increased, and it was getting harder and harder to squeeze around them. Skye's hands tightened on the steering wheel, twisting against it. How much worse would this become?

Another fifteen minutes ticked by before they were forced to get out and push their first car out of the way. This kind of traffic was something she and Wade had not considered when planning their route. She realized too late they should have.

Skye looked in the rearview mirror, then all around them as they sat behind the stopped vehicle. Where were Dylan and Wade? Skye had thought they would’ve been here long before now.

Skye frowned at the blue automobile in front of them. If they wanted to get down this road, the car would need moved.

“Jesse, we will have to push this one.”

“Alright.” He drew out the word letting her know he didn’t think much of this plan.

“We don’t have a choice. They aren’t here yet.”

“I know.” Jesse popped his door open. “Let’s get it over with.”

Skye got out of the Jeep and put the blue car in neutral. She shoved the wheel the way she wanted the vehicle to go and stepped to the back beside Jesse.

A loud crack sounded in the woods, and their heads whipped to the noise. Skye and Jesse stared at the forest for a moment, but saw nothing. They glanced at each other and let out nervous giggles.

Skye pushed against the car, straining to move it, and was proud to see Jesse’s effort made quite a difference to the task. The wind lifted her hair and whistled through the trees, and the long grass on the side of the highway stirred. Skye tried to ignore her wild imaginings, but couldn’t help feeling someone was about to rush at them.

Skye gave a mighty push. The car dipped into the meridian, and they both hurried back to the Jeep. Once they slammed their doors shut, Skye locked them.

I never dreamed this many empty cars would litter the highway. Where did all the drivers go? They couldn't all have gotten delirious at the same time. Perhaps a traffic jam and they all walked home? Another story with no ending.

After fifteen minutes of straining arms and sweat rolling down their bodies, they had pushed through another small clump of cars. Skye was relieved that the way ahead looked clear.

Their route took them closer to the city. If the way thus far was any indication, abandoned vehicles would become a bigger problem. They could hardly stay in the Jeep, as she promised, when they needed to push cars to the side of the road.

In addition, the Sick were starting to make an appearance. Jesse pointed out two he saw looking through the trees at them. So far, the Sick seemed content peering at her and Jesse from the wood’s edge, but that wouldn't likely continue to be the case. The closer they got to civilization, the more Sick there were likely to be.

Skye thought about changing course, but Wade had impressed on her the need to stay on the roads he sent them on, the ones he and Dylan would use to follow them. But when she and Jesse crawled into their car only to drive a few paltry miles before seeing a sea of empty vehicles in front of them, she gave up. Her shoulders slumped as she turned to Jesse. "We are just going to have to find a different route. We can't do this."

Eyeing the blocked lanes, Jesse agreed. "Maybe we should just go back."

Skye looked ahead before turning and looking behind them. "I have to try Jesse. This may be the last obstacle."

Jesse raised an eyebrow then sent her a doubtful expression.

Skye bit the inside of her lip. They had hours to go yet. The snarled traffic made them vulnerable to a lot of potential problems. Jesse had reason to be concerned. "If we have one more major problem, we will turn around. Okay?"

“Okay.”

Skye tipped her head to the right side of the road. “Look.” Off that side of the highway was an empty tree-lined street. “If we can move these three vehicles, we can get there.” Skye pointed to the three cars, then the narrow lane.

Jesse stopped chugging his bottle of water long enough to give her an enthusiastic nod and continued drinking.

“I have to lay this map out. You keep an eye out for the Sick, okay?”

They both hopped out of the car, looking around with a careful eye. Beside the Jeep was a sedan with a large truck in front of it. Skye walked to the sedan and spread the map out on its hood to plot her new route. She leaned over it, propping her chin on her elbows.

“Jesse, we will have to think about a way to let Wade and Dylan know we changed our course.”

“Yeah, I was thinkin—”

"Why, hello cutie! Look at you!" A voice called out from behind her.

Skye whipped around, her fingers curving around her knife at her waist, and her heart in overdrive.

Beside her, Jesse's water bottle made a cracking splat as it hit the pavement, and his hand moved to his blade.

She shot a glance at the boy. "Jesse, if things go bad. You get in the car and go back to the Coles."

“Nope, I ain’t doin that.” He was firm. There was no hesitation.

"Jesse! Don't argue with me, not now!" she whispered. This is how Dylan feels when I don't listen to him.

“Well, just tellin ya up front, I ain’t gonna do that.”

The man called out again. "Don't be worried now, beautiful. We can see you are in need of some assistance, and we are able provide that for you."

Skye didn't want to assume the worst of people but being careful meant staying alive. That was the case well before this outbreak.

"We?" she asked as her shaking hand tightened on her knife hilt.

"Me and my buddies here." He pointed to his right. A second man came out from behind a truck.

He said buddies. Where's the other one? She gulped as she quickly scanned the area but didn't see the third man. She pulsed with tension. We need to get back in the car.

Skye’s voice quaked as badly as her hands as she spoke. “We don’t need any help. We're fine. Thank you.” To Jesse, she whispered, “Back up and get in the car.”

She took one slow step back then a second. The two men in front of her matched her pace. The talkative one continually tried to reassure her.

"I know this must be kinda frightening for you, but we aren't bad guys, honey. Just trying to find survivors, is all." His voice was so smooth and reassuring that she actually might have believed him if his speech wasn't peppered with cuties, beautifuls, and honeys.

A third and a fourth step back. Skye was making headway, but the men's more substantial strides meant they gained on her. She threw a glance at Jesse and saw he was at his door. She gave him a nod to get in the car.

For her, there was no choice but to run the last few steps to the door. Skye’s vision swirled as she turned, her entire focus on the driver's door of the Jeep. The crunch of shoes on loose gravel sounded on her right.

Skye reached the car door and flung it open. As she stepped toward the seat, a large, meaty hand clamped on her shoulder like an iron vise. He shoved her up against the hard, metal door frame. Her face numbed for a moment when it smashed against the car. It was him, the third man.

She put her hands to the smooth metal of the vehicle and pushed, but he refused to let her up. With little effort, he pulled her knife from its sheath and tossed it to the ground. Skye’s heart dropped as it clattered on the pavement.

Skye continued to fight, clawing at his arm. The big man had a long reach was too far away for her to do anything else.

He took hold of the solid Jeep door and slammed it against her back and legs.

Pain flared up and down Skye's body. She screamed and frantically pushed at the car again. If only he would come closer, but he knew what he was doing. He waited a moment before opening the door and crashing it into her again.

This time, he held the door tight, chuckling in Skye’s ear as she shuddered and gasped in pain. She could smell his sour breath as it moved across her face.

Skye’s arms and legs rotated between numbness and agony, each cycle grew worse as the large man pushed himself against the door adding more and more of his weight to it. Sure that her back would break any minute, Skye tried to grit her teeth against the pain, but soon her gasps turned to sobs.

“Hey,” the first man said, “I told you not to do anything until I said so. Let her go!"

The big man released her body from the trap he'd made. Skye tumbled to the ground and lay quivering.

Twenty-Two

The Note

Dylan made sure he got to the cabin well after Skye drove away. He didn't want to say goodbye and didn't figure she would care much anyway. He entered the clearing where the cottage stood sometime after noon. His shoulders slumped as he stopped and stared at the house. The only movement was Wade up on the roof, cleaning out the gutters—again.

I swear he spends more time on top of that house than on the ground.

Dylan walked with light steps into the cabin once Wade’s back turned away from him. Dylan shuffled through the entryway. The house felt different already. The area that normally held Skye and the boy's stuff was about cleaned out, leaving a large empty space.

His gaze lingered on each place he now thought of as hers, the seat on the couch she usually sat on, her neatly made bed, the counter she lay cookies on the night before. Their spicy scent still drifted in the air.

An ache passed through Dylan, and he sighed. It's better this way. I started gettin caught up in something that wasn't gonna happen. She won’t go for someone like me.

He could accept that. He'd been denying himself ever since he could remember, denying himself or being denied. Didn't matter. He was who he was. She was who she was. That’s all that could be said about it.

Dylan had been used to the quiet before they came. Craved it, enjoyed it. Quiet meant safety to him, a lesson he’d learned long ago. Too much noise often meant trouble.

But Dylan felt different about her and the boy. Their clamor was a good kind—laughter and smiles. He liked it. It was only a few days since they arrived, and he was used to it already. He would miss that.

She said she was coming back, and Dylan thought she really meant it. But it wasn't just a short jaunt to Ohio anymore, not with things the way they were now. Skye would get there and somehow make that place work.

A thousand things could happen. Her dad might not want to leave, her brother could show up, maybe she would find a relief center of some kind there.

No, she wouldn't be back. She risked their lives to go up there for her dad. She wasn't going to risk it again to come back here. Dylan dropped into a kitchen chair.

Wade came in the door wiping his hands on a rag. “There you are! Where’d you get to?”

Dylan shrugged.

“Well, you missed the excitement. The neighbors up the road went from bad to worse. Joe sent someone over here for us, needing help getting ‘em down the mountain last night.”

“It go okay?”

“Yep. But that’s not the most important thing.” Wade smirked.

Dylan waved him away. “I don’t got time for your games.”

“Skye wants us to catch up to her when we can.”

“Last night she said—”

Wade pulled out the kitchen chair beside Dylan. “She said she didn’t expect us to, but when I got to askin her, she wanted us to go with her.”

Dylan gave Wade a blank stare.

"She left a note." Wade walked over to the end table to get the letter and handed it to Dylan.

Dylan wanted to be angry, but instead, he found himself eager to read what she'd written. He took his time opening the folded note. Her handwriting against the plain white paper was surprisingly messy. All the girls he knew growing up practiced their writing as if it were an art, adding lines, dots, and even little hearts until the words were almost unrecognizable. Her handwriting was as far from that as a person could get. It could almost be termed a scrawl. He liked that.

Dear Dylan and Wade,

This is not a goodbye note, it is a thank you note. I lay here tonight, my mind restless with what might happen tomorrow, and I realized I never thanked you for everything you've done.

Without you, I probably wouldn't have Jesse right now. I like to think I would, but odds are that things would not have ended as well as they did. I may not have ever left that house. For all I know, I may still be on the side of the road.

And then without a word or a question, you took us to your home and opened it up to us. You didn't need to do that; you'd already done so much. But you did. You've taught us skills that can help keep us alive. We have a long way to go, but you gave us the confidence we can learn them.

I am eternally grateful for everything. In the short time we have known each other, you've come to mean so much to me.

My note is turning into a letter so I will end it now. My plan is to drive to my dad's house, stay a day or two to help him pack, and Charlotte if she wishes to come, then drive back here. If you somehow don’t catch up and want to check on us, I listed my dad’s landline number below. If we run into difficulties, this may take longer, but I hope not.

So I hope to see you soon. And I hope some of those cookies I made tonight are left. Yes, Wade, I'm talking to you.

Until I see you again, your friend, Skye.

When Dylan finished reading the letter, he looked up at his brother. Neither one of them ever received a note like this before, a note thanking them for some kindness they'd done.

Skye’s words reached that dark place inside of Dylan and shone a bit of light on it. And though neither Wade nor Dylan would ever discuss it aloud, the message was in the look they shared. Both of them felt lighter as a large chunk of the wall that sat between them and the outside world, that wall that Skye patiently chipped at, fell down.

Dylan read the note again and again.

Restless with what might happen tomorrow. If we run into difficulties. She's scared. She seemed so confident he thought her foolish. But she wasn't, she was scared.

Dylan closed the note, tapped it on his leg a few times and looked up at Wade.

Wade gave Dylan a sharp eye and a nod. “I already got us packed. I was just waitin for you to show up."

With care, Dylan refold the note. Wade took it from him and slide the paper between a couple of books in the bookcase as his brother walked out to his waiting pickup.

Dylan gave the old red truck a mental and physical inspection. Although he loved his vehicle with a love usually reserved for a person, he was aware it had its limits. All Dylan’s hours of care had shown him its flaws, and he didn't want to have a breakdown on the way. What they needed was at a neighbor’s house.

"Come on. We're headed to Taylor's first."

A Ford man all the way, Dylan had spotted Taylor's brand new 150 Raptor the minute his neighbor had brought the vehicle home. A moment of sadness passed over Dylan for the loss of his friend, but Taylor wouldn’t have begrudged him this.

"Reckon wherever Taylor is, he ain't comin back," Dylan said once they had transferred their stuff and started down the road. Wade grunted his agreement.

Speed limits were meant to be broken, in Dylan's mind anyway, and now no one complained about it. They flew through the first hour, both of them confident they gained on Skye.

After some miles, Dylan's thoughts drifted back to Skye’s letter. She had ended it with 'your friend.' She knew how much that would mean to him and Wade, more than most people he reckoned. So, she offered friendship. If he couldn't have anything else, he would take it. I can do that. That's good enough.

The men passed the vehicles Skye and Jesse had pushed out of the road. Wade shook his head as he drummed his fingers on the armrest. "It's just gonna get worse. I had her go around the city but there's still more cars than I thought."

"More cars mean more people, more Sick. It ain't good." Dylan's stomach clenched as it became clear how much danger Skye and Jesse could be in. “I was a jackass staying away from the cabin so long. This is my fault.”

“Ain’t nobody’s fault. I wasn’t home much before you anyways.”

Dylan pressed his lips together a few times and picked up the pace. He drove as fast as he could when the way was clear, but even with an open path through the pushed cars, the congestion slowed him down from time to time. Both men leaned forward in their seats, scanning the road for the light blue Jeep as they circled each curve.

Each new turn offered hope but yanked it away with only long stretches of empty road. Dylan gritted his teeth and lost all restraint, flooring the truck at every open span of highway as his imagination ran wild with all the things that could be happening to Skye and Jesse.

Twenty-Three

Strength

Jesse saw the third man as he was sliding into his seat. His eyes stretched wide as he watched the man shove the door against Skye, and his stomach clutched when she screamed. Where another child of his age might have froze in place, Jesse reacted in the only manner he knew. He fought back.

Jesse left the uncertain safety of the car and ran around the back. He eyed the attacker as he stood behind him. The man was big, his head towered way above the automobile, and Jesse. His red t-shirt stretched tight over his powerful muscles.

Jesse took a small step forward. His face whitened, and his hands turned clammy. He knew what fists half that size felt like against his face.

One punch is all it would take from a man that big, and I’ll be down. I hafta do it though. I gotta.

Jesse made his way to the back of the big man and whaled on him until his fists hurt. The man did not even acknowledge him.

An idea flashed through Jesse’s mind, and he put his hand to his belt. But before he got any further, the two other men caught him. One of them wrapped their hand tight around Jesse's thin arm until it hurt. The man shook Jesse until his head bounced and swirled as he dragged the boy away from the car.

* * *

When the blood rushed back through Skye’s body, her agony increased. She moaned as she moved first one, then the other of her limbs. Her back cracked several times as she slowly pushed herself off the ground. She prayed that was not a bad thing.

As soon as she was upright, the big man jerked her around in front of him, so her back was to him. He wrapped his arms around her. One hand gripped her waist, his fingers digging into her soft side. The other arm crossed her upper body holding her arms down.

If she hadn’t been helpless before, without a doubt, she was now.

The big man held her tight to his sweating body. The constriction, on top of her dizziness and fear, caused her breathing to quicken. Instinct kicking in, Skye raised her hands to his hairy arms, her knuckles white as she clenched and pushed them away from her.

Big Man's shoulders curved around hers, and though he didn’t touch her intimately, it felt intrusive. He brought his head down and smelled the side of her neck. Nausea welled up in her.

She pulled her head away from him as far as she was able, but he didn’t let up until his face almost lay against her. “No!” she screamed.

There was a deep chuckle so close her ear vibrated from it. “Yes,” he whispered.

Skye’s mind spun. She seemed unable to keep up with what was happening. Time moved both fast and slow. It wasn’t until she looked at Jesse that her mind stopped tumbling, and she focused.

With her arms pinned down, Skye’s options were limited. Every twist and turn she made earned her less room as Big Man crushed her tighter. Already there was room for only one tiny breath at a time. Physically, she could do nothing.

In the background, the first man talked without stopping, saying things Skye prayed wouldn't happen and didn't want to hear. Big Man was slowly maneuvering her to the front hood of the car. She shook to the point of convulsing.

Skye tried to stop their progress. She grabbed at him. Her feet stomped his with no effect. She couldn't reach high enough to bash him in the knee or anywhere else. When she swung her head back, she only hit his chest.

Her mouth dried with fear, and her heart thundered as Skye realized it was too late for her. It came down to saving Jesse.

"Let the boy go. Please, just let him go." Skye's voice quivered and broke.

The man who held Jesse's arm scoffed at her. "Where is he going to go?"

"Let him take the car." Skye kept her voice as even as possible, trusting her training, as if this was a reasonable situation with a sensible request.

"You gonna let your scrawny kid just drive away all by himself?" He cackled at her.

“Yes, let him go, please.”

Big Man stopped when she pleaded, and Talking Man seemed to think for a minute. He made a big show of it, rubbing his chin, and scratching his head before replying, "No, I think we will keep him. He might learn a thing or two from us."

Skye became frantic and redoubled her efforts to loosen the man's arms in the hope it would be possible slip down out of them. She clawed at him and bit his salty skin until he moved his arm.

She twisted and pushed. Her feet touched the ground now. Like a shot, she lowered her hand to cause him enough pain he’d drop her.

Skye’s head jerked back from the blow he gave her, and she tasted blood. A second, then third and she was limp in his arms.

Stunned and groaning, she tasted blood. Jesse screamed, and she stirred.

Tears streamed as she tried to find him. I can’t give up. Her blurry vision couldn’t find the boy, her only reason for trying.

When Big Man put his head to Skye’s, she had no fight left.

Jesse screamed again. Skye only made out one word. Dylan.

She remembered those protective arms around her, arms in which she found protection and comfort. Skye closed her eyes. Dylan.

Thoughts of him drifted through her mind. Dylan cooking, coming back from the hunt, teaching her how to fight. He wouldn’t be happy about this.

The bigger they are, the harder they'll fall. Dylan's lessons, his voice, came to her mind. It's an old saying cause it's true. You’re smaller than most men. Remember it and use it.

With a pitiable effort, Skye pounded on the thick forearm holding her up. This was one very big man.

Skye’s bracelets moved against her wrist. The messages on them whispering encouragement to her. Be strong. Don’t give up. You can do this.

She could. She would.

Skye stopped fighting and started thinking. The men took it as a sign she had resigned herself to her fate. They laughed at her.

She waited for the moment she needed. Anything that would turn this to her favor.

Use what's around ya.

Skye scanned the area. When she saw Jesse, she became more determined than ever to get away.

Jesse was still a prisoner of one of the other men. He stood tall and rigid, not giving one ounce of himself more than he had to. He'd watched her struggle with everything she had. The pain expression on his face told Skye her small whimpers and cries had reached him, and her hurt had become his.

The boy fought for his freedom only to be beaten until he stopped. Now he waited for his moment. If he got a chance, Skye hoped Jesse knew what to do.

Jesse watched her, looking for some sign from her showing she hadn't given in, that this wasn't over. Skye raised her head to look at him. A flicker of hope lit Jesse’s face.

The woman and boy locked eyes, letting each other see that their fight continued. It would continue until they were standing, and the others were not.

“We know stuff,” Jesse mouthed to Skye, “They ain’t gonna know what hit ‘em.”

Jesse smirked, the open rebellion burned in his gaze, and Skye returned it. He gave her a slight, determined nod. He was ready.

Skye's heart warmed at Jesse's beautiful defiance. She would give this everything she had. For Dylan and Jesse, for her dad, for herself.

Big Man turned to the front of the car clutching Skye in front of him, his arms crushing her. Then she saw it. It had been there before her the whole time. What they thought would be her undoing would be her salvation.

Her shoulders squared as she remembered Dylan's instruction. Sometimes you only get one shot.

She kept her eyes downcast, as if hopeless, as she waited for the right time.

A woman's strength is in her haunches.

Skye could hear her own erratic breathing. Though it tested her, she was patient. Thinking of Dylan’s voice soothed her.

Wait for your moment.

Skye resigned herself to being tossed like a rag doll until she could make her move. She waited, waited, waited. Then she was there. Big Man had maneuvered her to the perfect spot.

Skye swiftly raised both her feet, planted them on the hood of the car and pushed with all her might.

She heaved backward, tightening every bruised muscle as she did so. Her thighs and calves strained as her legs bent against the vehicle. Her stomach clenched. A groan started low in her throat, becoming louder.

For a moment nothing happened. A brief hesitation, as if they were stuck in some sort of suspended animation. Skye's heart stopped. Had she failed?

Then something changed. The difference was slight, but noticeable the minute it happened. Big Man didn't stumble. He didn't stagger or shuffle.

He fell like a toppling tree, went backward, taking Skye with him.

Slow at first, he gathered speed. Skye listened for the sound she hoped was coming. The sharp crack of a skull on the car behind him then the dull thud as it hit the pavement.

Skye ignored her pain and swirling head as she jumped up as his arms released her. His massive body had protected her from the fall.

Big Man was still, so still. Blood seeped from the back of his head into the rough asphalt. Skye winced and looked away.

Everything was silent. The two other men stared at Big Man lying on the road. They seemed dumbfounded by the turn of events, and Skye took advantage of it. She raced to the closest man and did something she would never have thought herself capable of, or would have wanted to do, until now.

Skye picked up the knife from the ground and locked her hand on the hilt. With the other, she grasped the back of his belt, wrapping her hand tightly around it. She gripped it so tight her fingers hurt, but she wasn’t letting him go.

The Talking Man. He was talking again now, though the subject had changed. He had talked enough.

Skye put the knife to his back at his kidney. She pressed it a little so he would know she had a weapon. “Shut up!” she said, “I’m sick of hearing your mouth.”

Skye glared at the third man, the one holding Jesse. "Let the boy go."

Twenty-Four

Wait for It

When Jesse saw the big man start to go down, he told himself he had to be ready, really ready. He bent his knees slightly, bouncing a bit.

Skye has one knocked out and the other with a knife at his back. This one is mine to deal with.

Jesse was small, but Dylan showed him how to protect himself. Skye ordered the man holding him to let Jesse go, and he laughed at her. Not just a small snicker but a big belly laugh, making fun of her. That made Jesse angry. A hard glint came to the boy's eye, and he set his jaw.

Dylan said be patient, wait for it.

When the right moment arrived, Jesse was ready. The man’s grip loosened from the boy’s arm and aimed for the back of his neck. In those few seconds, Jesse sank to his knees, jarring against the pavement, and out of the man’s grasp. Sky cried out to him.

Jesse tightly wrapped one arm around the man’s left knee. He grabbed the unwashed denim of the man's jeans in one hand and didn’t let go for nothing.

He knew he should feel bad about what he was going to do, but he didn’t. Jesse ignored his queasy belly as he got down to business.

Jesse clutched the smooth hilt of his knife, pulling it from his belt. He brought his arm back and plunged it into the man's leg above the back of the knee.

The man let out a high-pitched scream and backhanded Jesse so hard his head exploded with little dancing lights.

Jesse had been hit hard many times before, and blearily danced out of the way as the man dropped to the ground, hands around his bleeding leg. His shrieks ringing in the boy’s ears.

Jesse glanced at Skye. Her blanched face turned another shade whiter at witnessing Jesse's encounter. He twisted his lip and looked at the ground.

Skye hadn’t known he was able to do that. Dylan had shown him but told Jesse to keep it to himself because Skye wouldn’t like it. He peeked back up at her, then grimaced and shrugged one shoulder.

Skye huffed out a breath, and mumbled, “Clearly, someone has shown you moves on the sly.” But she couldn't object to that now, it had just saved their lives. “I don’t know whether to be proud or mortified my son can hamstring a man.”

She shook her head. "Go to the car, please, Jesse." Once he was safely headed that direction, she turned her attention to Talking Man.

"I don't want to hurt you. Your muscle is passed out or crippled. Are we done here?" Her edged voice seemed to cut through his shock at the quick turn of events.

"Yes, we are done here," he sniveled.

"Walk the way you came and don't come back."

With care, she let him go. She took a few steps backward as she watched him shuffle off between the cars as she instructed.

Jesse smiled. He was proud of how tough Skye sounded. He kept an eye on the man, but Jesse’s tension eased when he saw the man would not turn and fight.

She backed away along the side of her car, gripping her knife and grabbing the map off the hood as she went. At one point, Skye stepped quickly to avoid the attacker as he rolled around on the road holding his leg.

Once Skye entered the Jeep, Jesse felt stress rolling off her in waves. She bit her lip as she jumped onto the seat and locked the doors.

The clock blinked to life when Skye fired up the Jeep's engine. Jesse’s mouth dropped. Not even ten minutes had gone by. So much had happened so fast.

Skye backed the car out of the snarl of stopped traffic. From the right side, a group of about twenty Sick came out of the woods. She closed her eyes and slowly shook her head.

"What am I doing?" she mumbled.

Skye braked the vehicle and watched the Sick amble out of the forest for a moment. She stared down at her trembling hands and turned to Jesse. He looked at her before staring out the car window at the Sick. He’d never seen them this close before. They were uglier than he’d imagined.

Skye pulled on Jesse’s shoulder and soon wrapped him in her embrace. Her silent tears hit him above his collar. There was none of the noisy mess that usually accompanied weeping, only the tiny splashes on his neck. Jesse was as still as possible, wiggling only when he couldn’t help himself.

Dylan told him that some women cry a lot, especially when things get rough. They weren’t sure if Skye cried more than other women—neither one had spent a whole lot of time with the opposite sex—but compared to the three men, she did.

Dylan also told Jesse Skye seemed to appreciate a hug when she cried. That was weird to Jesse because when he cried, he wanted everyone to leave him alone. But that is what Dylan said, and he didn't like hugs either. Jesse wasn’t sure why Dylan told him all this but reckoned it was because they would deal with a lot of crying women now.

Once Jesse thought he could no longer breathe, he pulled away and waited while Skye wiped her face. "What are we gonna do now?"

* * *

Skye put her arm on the steering wheel, wincing as she did so, and looked in the rearview mirror then out the front window. It was a miracle she and Jesse had gotten away.

There was still over half of the trip to go, if they continued on, and no indication it would be any easier or any safer. Her heart sank as she faced the reality she may never reach her family, never see them again. Skye squeezed her eyes shut.

The Coles were right. She had trusted the brothers to show her skills, but she had not believed them in so many other ways. Why had she though she knew better? She didn’t.

She heaved a heavy sigh as she turned back to Jesse. "We're going back. I was wrong, and they were right. We’ll never get through this. We shouldn't have left."

Tears ran down Skye’s face as she put the car in gear and drove over the bumpy median and away from her family.

Twenty-Five

In Front of Me

We have to be close. Dylan peered around every hill, as far down the road as he was able when he rounded each bend. But he would see nothing and around the curve he and Wade would go again.

At last, far below, Wade pointed out a small bright-blue speck moving in the men’s direction before the mountain swallowed up their view.

Dylan brought his nail to his mouth and chewed. One of two things, it's not them, or it is and there's been trouble.

Dylan and Wade raced around the mountain, tensing with each curve. It appeared the blue speck would never get closer.

* * *

Skye and Jesse hadn't driven far when the two noticed a little black dot moving toward them on the hilly road. Skye sighed and wiggled a little higher in the seat. How she wished the dot was red—Dylan’s beat-up truck.

She glanced at Jesse. “Whoever is in that car must be flying. Every time we come around the bend, they're closer than I expect them to be.”

“Um.” Jesse craned his neck as he kept an eye out too.

Skye burst out in a cold sweat. The last thing they needed was another problem. All she wanted was to make it back to the cabin, safe and sound.

Her white-knuckled hands gripped the steering wheel as her eyes scanned the road. "We don't get out of this car, no matter what. We just drive right by it."

Jesse quickly shook his head in agreement. One hand clenched the door, the other the seat. When it got close enough, he said, "It's a truck."

Skye nodded and loosened her clenched jaw. A tension headache was building. Skye and Jesse watched the black truck barrel around the bend and face them. Skye sucked in a quick breath and moved her hands to the top of the wheel, determined to barrel past them.

* * *

Dylan slowed the truck, relief washing over him when he saw Skye and Jesse were both in the car. Skye started to pass Dylan and Wade then her face brightened. The Jeep screeched as she slammed the brakes and threw it into park.

Before Skye jumped out of the vehicle, Dylan knew there had been trouble.

Skye and Jesse ran to Dylan. He opened his arms to both, surprised the action almost seemed normal. The boy only wanted a pat or two before moving on to Wade. Dylan’s brother clapped Jesse on the back and plied the boy with questions. But Skye stayed with Dylan, her hands clinging to the sides of his shirt. When Dylan laid an arm on Skye’s back, she winced.

Something protective welled up inside Dylan‘s chest. “What happened?”

“We're fine. Just fine,” Skye mumbled into Dylan‘s t-shirt. The words weren’t convincing since tears soaked his shirt.

With gentle hands, Dylan took her by the arms and held her away from him. “Do you see all this ain't getting better now? You can't go wanderin off.”

Skye tried to dry her tears, but her hands couldn't reach her face, and Dylan wasn't letting go. "Sometimes I have trouble seeing what is right in front of me."

Dylan scoffed. "You’re tellin me!”

"I'm an idiot, okay? I should’ve waited. Now stop yelling at me and let me go."

Dylan removed his hands. He brushed back a bit hair that had fallen in Skye’s face. “I'm mad at ya now.” Skye made a little face at him, and he said, “Hey, you're the one always sayin it’s better to notify others of our mood.”

“I’m mad at you, going off in the woods like that.”

Guilt sliced through Dylan, and he hung his head. “I apologize for that. It wasn’t one of my finer moments.”

Skye uttered a watery chuckle and sniffed.

It was the sniff that did it. Dylan's anger at Skye faded away as fast as springtime snow in a warm morning sunrise as he looked down at her red, tear-stained face. His reaction startled him. That little sniff and I’m done for.

Dylan wanted to pull Skye back to him, but instead he stepped back and crossed his arms. He dropped his gaze to the ground. Friends, just friends.

When Skye followed suit, Dylan tipped his head to look at her down-turned face. “I’m mad at myself for not bein here. It won’t happen again.”

Skye nodded. “I appreciate that, but it’s my fault too. I left, and I should’ve stayed until you got back.”

Jesse’s waving arms attracted Dylan’s attention, and he turned to listen to the boy’s story. "...was holding Skye real tight. She couldn’t get away. Skye looked at me, and I knew she was thinkin something. I waited, like Dylan said. When the big man tried to put Skye on the car, she pushed on it real hard, and the man tumbled backward. Then I took my knife and I—“

Skye held up a hand. "That's enough, Jesse. It's all over now."

Jesse sighed and flapped his arms. "But I want to tell Dylan how I hamstringed the guy like he taught me. I hamstringed him real good."

"What is the boy saying?" Dylan’s voice as hard as steel.

"Nothing. We're fine." Skye tried to reassure him, but Dylan wanted the whole story.

"I want to hear this." Dylan gestured for Jesse to continue. Skye sighed and turned away.

Jesse relaunched into his story. This time, Dylan heard it from the beginning and something dark surged in him. He looked at Skye and felt sick she’d had to endure the man’s touch.

Dylan felt strong and weak at the same time. Strong because he would take care of this, weak because he wasn’t there when she, when they needed him. How did he let that happen? Anger returned and swirled white-hot through him.

Without a word, Dylan turned to the back of the pickup and strapped what heavy weapons he could to his body. He piled the ones he couldn’t on the seat, then Dylan leapt into the driver's seat. One hard look at Wade and his brother was doing the same thing.

Skye followed him with her eyebrows drawn. "Where are you going?"

Dylan slammed the vehicle door shut. "I'm gonna kill them."

Twenty-Six

A Mistake

The blood rushed from Skye’s face as Dylan looked at her and repeated his words, his voice becoming more resolute as he spoke. "I'm gonna kill them. Those men touch you, the boy, like that? They die."

Skye studied Dylan’s clenched jaw, the vein at his temple and his whitened knuckles wrapped around the steering wheel. He was barely controlling himself. She expected anger, but this was way more rage than he had displayed before. As the jolt of Dylan’s words wore away, Skye became just as determined to stop him as he was to go.

Skye stepped up on the running board of the truck. "No, no! Look at me, look at Jesse. We are fine! There will be no killing today."

“You gonna let them get away with treating you like that?” Dylan practically roared as he waved toward her. Clearly, there was no doubt in Dylan’s mind that he and Wade needed to handle this. “There ain’t no police here, maybe even no law. If we don’t take care of this, no one will, and these men—they’ll do it again. There is no mistaking that.”

But Skye wouldn't be swayed. "No one got away with anything. One guy won't ever walk the same. The other, well, he hit hard. He may never get up. The third guy isn't going to do anything without their help." Skye half-explained and half-pleaded her case.

Dylan gave one quick shake of his head before settling himself further down into his seat and reaching for the ignition. "I'm killin them."

"No!" Skye's voice was shrill as she grabbed his arm.

"You think you can stop me?" He shook himself from her grasp.

Skye bit the inside of her cheek. She needed to stay calm. One of them had to use some self-control and it wasn’t likely to be Dylan.

Skye took a deep breath. "I know I can't stop you, Dylan. If you want to kill people, you will do it. But it isn't like hunting. It’s not the same—killing animals and killing people."

"I know what it's like.” Dylan’s gaze flashed from Skye to the front windshield and stayed there. His jaw tightened.

Skye stilled for a moment. She hadn't expected that. "Okay, then, I'm asking you not to go. I can't—I can't have another death on me. I can't live with that."

"It ain't on you, it’ll be on me." Dylan's scorching anger cooled for a second as he gazed at Skye. He twisted the steering wheel until it protested, and his voice lowered from a roar to a growl. "You gonna let them rape and murder all up and down this road? There ain't no way to stop guys like them but kill them. What else are you gonna do?”

“We aren’t certain they have been or will do this again. But I hear you, I really do, but I--I can't kill people like that. This is a longer discussion, for another day, when we are not emotional."

Skye reached out and laid her hand gently on his upper arm. " Please, Dylan." Skye turned to search for his brother. "Wade?"

Wade leaned against the long side of the truck during the conversation and now turned away from her. He jerked a finger toward Dylan. “Him. One hundred percent. Those men’ll be gearing up for another round as soon as they’re walkin.” Wade raised his hands in the air. “But hey, I’m not gettin in the middle of this argument. I’m not the one romancin the girl. But if she’s all worried about this, maybe just rough ‘em up a bit.”

Dylan looked from Wade to the front window of his truck for a moment before shaking his head and heaving a sigh. "All right, we'll go and just make 'em wish they hadn't touched you. Make them not want to touch anyone ever again." He started the ignition. Wade jogged over to the passenger side.

Skye reached over Dylan and turned the truck off. If Dylan went, he wouldn’t stop at a beating, not in this mood. Dylan closed his eyes refusing to look at her .

Skye held her ground. ”No. It was my fight, and I took care of it the way I wanted. I could have killed or maimed them. I didn't. It's done. I want to go home." Skye lightly pushed on Dylan’s shoulder so he would seek her face. "Please, just take me home."

Skye and Dylan’s eyes locked, and she watched Dylan’s anger melt away when she called his house home. When Skye saw his demeanor change, she lowered her gaze. But Dylan wasn’t done, he brought a hand to her jaw and waited for her to look at him again. “You’re makin a mistake. The only reason I’m listening to you is because I can’t take how you’ll feel when it’s done. But it will be done at some point. Those men—they’re gonna die. Leaving them here, it’s a mistake.”

Tears flooded Skye’s eyes. “Perhaps. But as we know, it isn't the first one, and I doubt it will be the last I will make."

“It burns me to let them go. This shouldn’t be ending in a question.”

She raised her hand and laid it on top of his. “Thank you.”

Skye took advantage of Dylan’s hesitation, afraid he would change his mind, and arranged the cars. “Wade, do you want to take my car and let Jesse drive some? He needs more practice." Then she hopped into the truck with Dylan.

Dylan sat for a moment one arm over the steering wheel as he studied Skye. ”You're too softhearted, and it's gonna be the end of you.”

Skye gazed at Dylan but didn't answer. Perhaps he was right, and she was making a grave error. Skye pressed her lips together. If she acknowledged that, he'd see it as permission to go after the men, so she kept silent.

Skye chewed the inside of her lip. If she found out those men hurt other people when Dylan and Wade wanted to stop them right here, she would never forgive herself for that either. This was just one of the many moral dilemmas ahead if the world never righted itself again. But she wasn't ready to be someone's jury, judge, and executioner. Not today. Even if someone else was doing the actual execution. She couldn't help it, that was the way she felt. Without a doubt, though, this would be something that would be argued out another day. It was unavoidable.

* * *

Talking Man watched as Skye banged the door of Dylan's truck shut and both vehicles drove south. He made a note of that for when he and the boys came back later. Not a mental note, he said the words out loud.

"South. And she's got muscle too."

Calvin had always been a talker, with others or alone. He claimed to be one of the best salesmen on the east coast because of it, though his wallet wouldn't have said the same thing.

Calvin, and his buddies, Tony, and Pete had wrecked havoc on the Sick and the healthy alike along this stretch of road. From the Sick, they took whatever supplies they could, whether that meant their deaths or not. From the healthy, they took everything else.

Their wicked spree left many starving, broken and dead. But today a woman and a child brought their streak of fun to an end. That outraged Calvin.

"How dare she? How dare that woman think she and that boy have any say in the matter? This is a new world, and we decide the rules."

Before the AgFlu, Calvin's many silent imaginings had been just that. He'd kept them to himself and a handful of like-minded people, typing the words he could never utter out loud in a private Internet chat room. As he'd sat in that darkened corner of his living room, he'd never dreamed he could ever act on them. But how things had changed. Now he was a king, and the world—it was his for the taking. Take it he would.

No woman would get in his way. He would make sure she knew her place in the reboot of this world.

He seethed as he got back in the car he used to follow her. He'd say he'd been fortunate to find a car that had the keys in it so quickly, but he didn't see it that way. To Calvin, it was more as if it was meant to be.

"She didn’t even suspect I was on her tail.” He laughed as he turned the car around. His mind was already surging with how he would punish a woman like her.

Now, he needed to go scrape his friends off the pavement. Then they would make a plan.

Twenty-Seven

Hurry

The car was silent. Dylan’s anger had returned and now wafted off him as if it were a heat wave. Skye kept quiet. It was better to let him have his space, anything she said would likely cause an argument. She gazed out her window blindly letting the blur of trees go past without notice as she tried to put away the events of the last few hours. It wasn’t easy both because of the tears that threatened to fall and the increasing aches of her body.

Skye changed her tactics and instead tried to relax and drown herself in the overcast fall day, the sunlight muted by fog sitting low on the ancient mountains. Every so often they would drift through a small, seemingly deserted town as they wound their way back through the landscape.

A wire fence ran alongside the road, and Skye lazily gazed at it as they drove. When she saw one, then another, and finally a horde of Sick at the barricade, Skye wiggled herself up in her seat.

"Dylan?"

"I see 'em.” He slowed the truck.

The Sick were a pitiful lot. Their arms stuffed through the holes in the fence, they reached out to the vehicles that Dylan and Wade drove for help. Their sad eyes pleaded even as their mouths uttered incomprehensible sounds of confusion, anger, and pain.

Skye gasped and turned away. Is this how her family would end up? There was little she could do but pray that wouldn’t happen to them.

Dylan stared at the horde, his shoulders sagging, then banged his fist on the steering wheel a couple times. “This day.” He shook his head. “We can’t even do anything for them.”

“There is food and water in the car. We won't need it anymore now," Skye offered leaving the decision to him.

Dylan rolled down his window, waving Wade and Jesse‘s car up beside him, and explained what he planned to do.

Once he was done, Dylan turned to Skye. "You stay here.” His words were gruff and his look sharp as he punched the seat with a finger.

Skye bristled. "But, I can-"

Dylan‘s eyes widened. “Is there ever gonna be a time ya just listen?"

Skye looked down. She had just told herself that he had ore experience, that he knew what he was doing. She needed to let him do it, and show she had faith in him. “I’ll stay here. Please be careful.”

Skye made sure Jesse still sat in the Jeep, then watched Dylan and Wade take food and water to the people behind the fence. A lot of the Sick were in the last stages of the disease and wouldn’t be interested in sustenance, but there were those among them that seemed alert enough to want it. Those desperate for supplies strained their arms through the wire openings, fingers opening and closing as they reached for the meager help Dylan and Wade provided.

Dylan and Wade handed some water bottles and food, but for the Sick in the middle and back of the horde, the men threw the nourishment over the top of the fence, deep into the field behind the large group. Some followed it, picking it up where it fell. It helped lessen the weight against the fence.

Skye frowned. There was still a lot of Sick pushing on the fence and staring at Dylan and Wade with too much aggression in their eyes. Skye scanned the barrier again. If the Sick kept pushing against the barrier, it would come down. Dylan and Wade needed to hurry.

Skye bit the inside of her cheek. The horde now worked together, pushing at the fence in unison, their blue-tipped fingers shaking the thin fencing. Skye held her breath. The small swing of the fence was getting wider, and the brothers noticed the back-and-forth movement.

Dylan rocketed the bottles into the pasture. Wade pointed to a few of the Sick that looked like teenagers and moved that way.

"Hurry, hurry," she whispered clenching the edge of the seat and willing the men back to the cars.

The Sick, even in their fevered haze, realized what they were accomplishing and pushed harder. The wire wall swayed and bent only to bounce back, at first. But as they continued to shove at it, the metal poles loosened from the soft ground.

"Hurry!"

Skye slid to the driver's seat, her eyes following the men’s every move.

At last, Dylan and Wade’s arms were empty, and they turned toward the cars. Behind them, the fence gave way. Their feet dug deep into the soil looking for traction as they started their fierce sprint. The horde were inches behind them.

Skye rolled down the driver's window and yelled to Jesse, "Get the car ready. We will have to leave fast!"

Jesse gave her a few quick nods.

A heavy thud against the passenger's side of the truck caught Skye’s attention. She jumped. Dylan thumped on the windows again and pointed the locks.

Skye’s stomach tightened as she looked at the driver door of the unfamiliar vehicle. There were so many buttons, it looked like a rocket console. She glanced out the window at Dylan only to see the Sick closing in behind him. Skye laid on the horn. The Sick stepped back almost as one. It held them at bay for a moment.

Skye hit buttons. Beeps and pops sounded with each one. When her shaking hands hit the right one, she punched it again just to make sure the doors were open. Dylan jerked open the door and leapt into the vehicle.

Dylan reached for the steering wheel and blasted the horn again to hold the horde back until Wade reached his car.

“Good move,” he said over the noise.

“Yeah. They hate it.” Skye pointed at the Sick‘s twisted faces. “Problem is, it makes them more upset.”

Wade made it to the Jeep, steps in front of the angry Sick. Skye and Dylan exchanged looks of relief when Wade‘s door banged shut.

Agitated, the horde gathered around the back of the truck, thumping against it.

"Go! Go!" Dylan bellowed to Jesse.

Jesse’s car left black marks on the road as smoke poured from the tires. It caught and took off. Skye's hand went to her thumping heart. When Wade straightened in his seat and reached the wheel to help Jesse, Skye sagged with relief.

As soon as the Jeep was out of her way, Skye floored the truck and shook off the Sick clinging to the sides. She glanced at their stricken faces. They only wanted help. Her heart ached anew knowing they would never get what they sought.

Skye looked Dylan over starting at his feet. When she reached his face, he was staring at her.

“Are you okay? I'm so, so sorry," Skye said, "Just being out here, I put myself and Jesse in danger as well as you and your brother."

Dylan grunted. "Yeah, you did. Well, now ya know."

“I never imagined it would lead to all this. I won’t do it again.“

Skye drove for a while. After the excitement, the two were quiet, each in their own thoughts.

As they passed the welcome sign for Colton, Skye looked toward Tom’s house. A stop there would put her mind at ease, and she may be able to call her father on their landline. But would Dylan go for it?

She glanced at Dylan and her cousin’s road again. She could wait no longer, if she was going to run it by him, it had to be now.

"So Dylan, I was thinking--"

"No."

Skye studied his set face and crossed arms. "You don't even know what I was going to say!"

Dylan waved a hand at her. "I don't care. Whatever it is, it’s no. You've asked enough of me today. Have the decency to wait a day before you ask for anything else."

Skye watched the road to Tom's house go by. She sighed and allowed her lips to make a soft pop sound at the end. Skye and Dylan had been at odds all day, and he had bent to her wishes every time. She owed him big, a lot more than this.

“Okay. Tomorrow then."

Dylan snorted and slouched down in his seat for the rest of the trip home.

Twenty-Eight

This Tryin Thing

The next morning, Skye woke with a start. The sky was dark, and Dylan stood over her. He was alert, as if this early hour was the perfect one to start the day.

"What do you want?" he asked.

“Huh?" Barely able to open her eyes, she rubbed the sleep from them, but she settled for squinting out the side of one.

"What did ya want yesterday?" He scowled.

Skye peeked up at Dylan with her one eye and scolded him. "Hey, no mean looks. It's, like, super early. My brain isn't working."

"I've been up for hours." He sighed as he crossed his arms.

"Of course, you have," Skye mumbled. "Pfft, not all of us are awake before the chickens." Skye rolled to her side, pulling a pillow close.

"We ain't got chickens."

"Yeah, we should get chickens..." she trailed off on a yawn, closing the one good eye.

But Dylan wasn't allowing that. "Hey, you speak now, or you ain't going anywhere."

Skye puffed out a vaguely irritated breath. “Oh. Um, to see Tom and Tricia and to call Dad. They have a landline." She brought her hand to her mouth to cover a yawn then opened both eyes gauging Dylan's reaction to the request.

He gave a little grunt Skye took to mean okay and pressed his lips together a few times as he scuffed one foot against the wood floor. "Get ready then. I'm gonna check things out, we can go after breakfast." Before Skye knew it, he was almost out the door.

"What? Now?" Her moaned response made it clear she did not agree with Dylan's plan.

"Yeah, now."

"Has anyone ever told you, you're a very mean man? Turning people out of their beds like this?"

"Now." Dylan chuckled but didn't relent.

"Ugh!"

Skye sighed but thanked him sweetly as he walked away.

When Dylan got back, breakfast was ready. As they ate the morning meal, the group decided that everyone would go to Tricia and Tom's. Jesse wasn't about to miss another field trip, no matter the horrible results of yesterday, of which he wouldn't stop talking. Wade didn't want to stay behind either.

After eating, the four packed some supplies the Cole’s were willing to part with, and that Skye thought Tom and Tricia would appreciate, into Dylan's newly acquired truck and headed off into town.

"So, new truck?" Skye asked as she leaned up from the back seat where she beside Jesse. She remembered a whole evening dedicated to the debate over what truck was best, and this had been one Dylan admired.

"Neighbor’s,” Dylan said.

Skye winced. Every new item seemed to come at someone’s expense. She took a deep whiff of the leather interior. "Mm. Nice!"

"Figured you'd like it." He smiled at her in the rearview mirror.

She agreed and smiled back.

Skye dropped her gaze and frowned. Something was different about him.

* * *

This morning before the sun rose, Dylan had crouched at the edge of the woods and listened as it woke. A night’s sleep and the soothing sounds of his beloved forest helped calm the anger that still burned within him.

Today is a new day, I ain’t gonna spend it angry. What's done is done. I don't agree with letting them go, but she wouldn’t go for anything besides comin home. That's what she said, 'Take me home’. My whole world tipped when she said that.

Dylan‘s resolve had eased things between him and Skye. He was more relaxed with her today than he had ever been. But while Dylan was relaxed, it wasn’t the case with the rest of them. Dylan felt the mood like he felt the weather. At first, he'd thought the tense atmosphere was from yesterday's scare. But the more he thought about it, he reckoned it was possible it had something to do with his bad mood yesterday. He needed to do better about that.

Skye liked to talk things out, and Dylan tried, but it was as foreign to him as a day in Japan. Still no matter what he thought, she said a person should communicate, and she had the book learning to back it up. It was what she wanted to teach the boy, and it sure wouldn’t hurt Wade and him none.

For now, he wanted to smooth it over with her. "Ya know, we would've been there sooner yesterday, but we couldn't make out that chicken scratch you call writin you left behind."

Skye stared at him stunned for a moment. Uncertain, she studied his serious face and hesitated as she asked, "Are you joking? Is this you teasing me?"

Dylan's stern demeanor broke as his eyes crinkled, and a smirk curved the right side of his mouth. He was as tickled by his joke as her response.

Skye made a fist and punched his arm. "You are teasing me!" Her eyes lit up, and she laughed.

He didn't know how women felt about this kind of interaction, but guys considered it a success.

"Nah, it was a nice letter.” Dylan hung his head a little. His self-confidence was raised, but he still felt on thin ice. Dylan glanced at Skye. Had he said the right thing? He wasn't sure how this friend thing worked with a woman, but from her reaction, he seemed pretty good at it.

Skye smiled. "I meant it. Every word."

He nodded and faced the road again.

Maybe this tryin thing wasn't so bad.

Twenty-Nine

Numbers

Skye sat on the seat's edge, hugging the headrest in front of her as they pulled into Tom's drive. A few days had passed since they talked on the phone, but it was too long in this new way of living. She scanned the property and sagged with relief that the house was intact and the yard clean. That was a good sign.

Please let them be okay. Please let them be okay.

Tom's home was better than untouched, it was pristine compared to the neighbors. Skye inspected the surrounding scene. Three of the houses were burnt to their foundations, others covered in bubbly scorch marks along the siding.

Many of the houses stood open to the elements with smashed windows, and front doors open and screens hanging at odd angles. Animals scurried around on the porches going in and out already making their homes within them. Although not every house was in that bad of condition, almost all looked deserted.

The light wind pushed papers and loose garbage along the road. Trash cans lay tipped and their contents spilled in yards and onto the pavement. Skye shook her head. The lovely street had disappeared, something foreign and eerie had taken its place. It was like a ghost town. They needed to invite Tom and Tricia to the mountain.

Skye shot a glance at Dylan and Wade wondering what they would think of the idea. She warmed. The Cole’s should be fine with it. Safety in numbers was something yesterday taught her, there was no doubt the brothers were already aware of that.

Dylan stopped the car and sat a minute. Skye waited for his next move, but he didn’t budge.

Dylan threw a glance over his shoulder at Skye. “The horn might attract attention we don’t want. If anyone’s on watch in the house, they’ll see us.”

Skye nodded and bit her cheek as the truck idled.

A shadow hovered near the front window beside the door. The window eased open the tiniest bit. With a careful eye, Dylan and Wade studied the residence and yard. After a look and a nod from his brother, Dylan stepped out of the vehicle.

Dylan stayed behind the open door of the pickup and yelled toward the house. "I have Skye Jackson here. If you're Tom or Tricia, she'd like to see you.”

The front entry flew open, and Tom stood in the doorway, one hand laying on his gun belt, the other gripping the door handle.

"Any of you sick? Or infected?" Tom scanned the black truck.

"Nah, we ain’t,” Dylan said.

"That you, D?"

"Yep, it's me."

Skye knitted her brows. Only Dylan’s closest friends called him D so why was Tom calling him that? Tom never indicated he and Dylan were buddies, and Dylan certainly hadn’t made that claim.

She forgot the thought almost as soon as it came into her head. She was too excited over seeing her relatives to think of anything else. Skye leaned against her car door waiting for the go-ahead.

"Come on in then," Tom said.

Bright joy flashed through Skye, and without knowing how, she made it to Tom before anyone else. Tom opened the door wide and held out his arms. She dove into them and wrapped hers around her cousin.

After a couple minutes, she stepped back and looked up at Tom. “Please tell me you and Tricia are fine."

"We are. We're just fine."

Tom's reassurance was what she'd hoped for, dreamed about and nearly panicked that she wouldn't hear especially after her father’s news. Tears of joy flooded Skye’s eyes.

"I've been so—just so worried! Not getting ahold of you, I didn't know what was happening."

Tom laid his hands on her shoulders and gave her a small squeeze. "We're fine, cuz."

Skye sniffed. "Okay."

Behind Tom, Tricia entered from the kitchen. Skye's voice broke as she said Tricia's name and raced to her. "You can't imagine how happy I am to see you two!"

"Oh, I reckon we do.” Tricia’s own tears and delighted laughter started as she embraced Skye. "And look who you drug along with ya."

"Dylan and Wade and, of course, Jesse." Skye smiled as she reintroduced them, a hint of pride in her voice.

"It's been a while since I seen you big scruffy ones and a bit for you too, little mite. How ya doin, Jesse?" Tricia went to Jesse and gave him and the men a quick hug.

"Real good, ma'am. Real good,” Jesse said.

"Excellent!" Tricia said as she examined the odd group before her. “It isn't every day two true mountaineers, a runaway boy, and a professional city slicker come together, willingly or no. You've got to tell me how this happened."

Tom chimed in, "Yes, sit a spell, and let's get reacquainted. Tell us how things have been going for you.”

Skye gave an abbreviated story of meeting Dylan and Wade and, unsure what to confess to Tom about Jesse's rescue, she kept that part short. She eyed her cousin during her explanation. He took it well.

Despite the friendly greeting and an invitation to stay and visit, uneasiness lingered among the men. Skye and Tricia looked at the guys, then each other. Skye sent her friend a questioning glance, and Tricia gave a little shake of her head.

Tom, Dylan, and Wade silently assessed one another, in the way only those who were once true companions could. If Skye hadn't been aware of it before, she was now—there was history between them. Her curiosity peaked.

A nervous smile floated over Tricia's lips. She knew something.

Skye’s gaze lingered on Tom and his harsh expression. What kind of past did they share? She frowned. Skye didn’t want them thinking badly of the Coles. Dylan and Wade had saved her and Jesse, offered them a home. They may be a little rough, but they were good people. Skye giggled to herself. Wow, she’d come a long way since her first meeting with the fierce brothers. She’d been so frightened of them that day on the side of the road.

Skye glanced at her cousin again, making sure to insert all the help the Coles gave her and Jesse into the conversation.

Dylan shot her a couple of questioning looks. When Skye spoke of the training the brothers offered her and Jesse , his lip curled. Dylan knew what she was doing.

Once the conversation turned to less interesting topics, Tricia winked at Skye and nodded toward the kitchen. “Welp, you men just keep on talkin. Skye and I are gonna go make cookies. I’ve hoarded some ingredients for an occasion like this.”

Jesse wiggled in his seat beside Dylan at the mention of the sweet treat. Skye ruffled his hair and kissed him on the head before following Tricia into the other room.

Tricia took the ingredients out of the cupboards as Skye soaked in the kitchen‘s warm atmosphere. Tricia regained Skye‘s attention when she slapped a stainless steel bowl onto the counter and said, "So how's it really goin?"

Thirty

History

Sky turned pink as Tricia’s gazed bounced from her to the Coles and back again. Skye’s color increased when her cousin-in-law wiggled her copper-colored eyebrows. Skye lowered her head, letting her dark hair cover her face, and twisted to scrape a wood chair away from the table and sit.

“Well,” Tricia said, “that’s interesting.”

Still not looking at Tricia, Skye gave a shake of her head.

Tricia took a moment to add the cookie ingredients to the cream-colored ceramic mixing bowl. There was the sharp crack as she knocked the hard-shelled eggs against the bowl adding them, one by one, to the butter and sugar.

“So, ya pick one out yet?" Tricia nodded toward the men.

"Tricia! As if-" Skye stuttered, barely getting the words out.

"As if you've been able to choose?" Tricia couldn't help the giggle that escaped her.

"No! As if I've been thinking about that with everything else happening around us!"

Skye glanced at Dylan who was sitting on the overstuffed couch in the living room, and Tricia saw her.

"Oh, please, girl!” Tricia said. “Ya gonna try and tell me you didn't notice that handsome face, those brawny arms and shoulders. I mean, look at those shoulders! No wonder he took the couch, he can't fit anywhere else. Really hasn't even crossed your mind, uh?"

Skye's gaze followed Tricia’s, tracing Dylan from head to toe, until Dylan glanced at her. Like a schoolgirl, she quickly turned away and shielded her face with her hand. "Tricia! He saw us!"

Tricia smiled. “Dylan, huh? Good choice. Good man."

"It doesn't matter! This isn't the time for us to act like 16-year-old girls. It's time to act like adults."

"Well, in case ya haven't noticed, us adults like a little of that fun too."

Skye waved Tricia away. “Oh, for heaven's sake, can we just change the subject?" Tricia was having too much fun torturing her with this information.

While Tricia indicated Skye could do whatever she wanted, her pleased expression showed she was as happy as a cat over a bowl of cream since figuring out Skye's secret.

"Anyhow," Skye said relieved to broach a new subject, "Everything's going well."

"Um-mm.” Tricia nodded with a sly smile on her face.

Skye ignored her insinuation and continued. "Wade and Dylan are teaching Jesse and I some self-defense and survival techniques. We didn't get a lot done yet, but we’re learning.”

"So you mentioned, and it's just too much!" Tricia gave Skye a double take, her eyes wide. "You takin survival skills classes? Like what? Are ya takin down forest animals, skinning them? You? Little miss mani-pedi?” Tricia threw an apologetic look at Skye as she chuckled.

"Don't laugh!" Skye looked at her hands with a wry smile. Where once a shiny new manicure had graced her nails, she now saw damage that would make her nail tech shudder. A small bit of color clung to a few, and she scraped at it. Skye had to admit she would've laughed just as hard as Tricia if someone said, even a month ago, what she'd be doing now.

Once they got themselves under control, Skye continued, "No, we aren't hunting yet, though Dylan has threatened it, but I've learned more about fishing. I do okay. Well, I caught a few fish, anyway." Pride tinged her voice as she remembered her last expedition.

“We learned to watch for what's going on, listen for anything unusual, use what's around us. You know, things that will help keep us alive. We also reviewed what to scavenge from the neighborhood and to be careful while doing it. You can't just barge into a place. So all that kind of stuff."

Tricia brought a hand to her face. "You're serious."

"Yes, I'm serious. The other life no longer exists, and if I want to survive in this new one, I need to change. No more high heels and manicures. Well, maybe sometimes, occasionally.” Skye couldn’t imagine never having a moment to pamper herself, or wear her favorite red heels, but couldn’t rule it out either. “But not often, it's time to be practical now. I have to keep Jesse and me alive. I was so extremely unprepared for this—I knew nothing, and I still don‘t, but the Cole's took us in, and they are good, patient teachers."

Tricia leaned on the counter and crossed her arms. "Huh, who woulda guessed? Them boys are turning ya back into a mountain girl."

Tricia raised her voice so her husband would hear. "Tom, I want to learn survival skills."

Tom had been in the middle of his own story. He paused, a perplexed expression on his face, and said, "Okay, honey." He chuckled before he continued on.

Tricia turned back to her friend. “I’m glad you’re settled in but Skye, you coulda stayed here."

“Oh, I know! It was just a chain of events. The Infected came through, and I left in a hurry. I thought everyone was leaving. After I got Jesse it was dark, and we ended up at the Cole’s cabin. I really only expected to be there overnight before going to Dad’s but things changed. In the meantime, we have... I don't know... we've become something. I guess I'm not sure what yet. Jesse needs Dylan and Wade right now because they give him something I can't. They get what he's gone through and make him feel more normal in a way I’m not able. For his sake, at least, we need to stay together longer.

"But Tricia,” Skye entreated, “You should come to Cole's Mountain. It's so nice there. You can almost forget about all this. There are empty cabins right next to ours. I'm sure that Wade and Dylan could use more help, to do all the—you know—man stuff."

Tricia laughed as she rose to take out a batch of cookies and put another one in the oven. "I thought you were learning all the man stuff."

"Pfft, I'm not stupid. I'm still gonna let them make use of their own skills. And before you get all snooty about that, you better believe they are using my skills too. I've never baked so many cookies in all my life. I, admittedly, have few skills they actually need." Skye laughed. "Hence, the lessons."

Tricia eyed Skye. "I'm sure you're helpin them more'n you realize."

“Yes, I have to say my therapist skills are coming in handy.”

Tricia laughed. “I bet!”

Skye walked to the counter, pinched a bit of cookie dough and popped it in her mouth. “Oh, yum!" The sweet smell of warm cookies filled the air as she washed her hands in the sink.

“Tricia, please think about coming up to the mountain.”

Emotion played over Tricia’s face as she glanced around her house. It would be hard for her to leave her house unprotected.

Skye saw Wade bristle and stare at the other men. None of them seemed at ease. “Tricia, what's going on between them?"

Tricia looked down and shook her head. “History.”

Skye tilted her head. "What can you tell me?"

Tricia sighed and threw a glance at Tom before lowering her voice. "Look, if they say anythin, I didn't say a word." She peeked again into the living room then told Skye, "They all grew up together, great friends, inseparable. But it wasn't three boys then. It was four.”

Tricia choked up for a moment, then cleared her throat. “There was also a boy named Mark. Great guy, the kind of guy us other kids kinda looked up to. Of the four, Dylan and he was the closest. Once they hit their early teens, they started cuttin up. Not anything real bad, but drinkin when they got their hands on it, pranks. Boy stuff."

Tricia looked away and sighed. "One day, they were drinkin while they were cleaning their guns. Wade and Dylan got into a fight over the weapon. They weren’t aware, but the gun was still loaded. It went off. Mark caught it, right in the chest."

Skye paled as she raised her hand to her mouth.

Tears shone in Tricia's eyes. "Mark didn't die right away. 'Course they weren't all that close to Doc's, but they drug him all the way there. I saw them come into town. Mark still gasping his last ragged breaths. His blood soaking their clothes. I don't know how he lasted as long as he did.”

Tricia ran a hand along her cheek. “I’ll never forget the raspy sound of his breathing. The sheer confusion and panic on Dylan, Wade and Tom’s faces as they watched their friend die. We all felt so useless—there was nothing to be done. Those boys laid him right on the sidewalk and fell down beside him.”

Tears flooded Skye’s eyes as she listened to Tricia’s story.

"They lay there, gasping and crying. Their arms around him and each other. They stayed like that for a long time, like if no one moved, then no one died, and life would go on as it did before. Tom's dad and some deputies had to drag 'em away from Mark, kickin and screamin, especially Dylan.”

A tear fell from Skye’s face splashing on her arm. Skye remembered what Dylan had said yesterday. This is what he meant. He did understood what it was to kill someone. He’d killed his best friend.

Tricia went on. ”For a long spell, the boys weren't themselves. Tom and Wade were devastated, but Dylan blamed himself. He was like a ghost, here but not here. Soon after that, the Cole's mom died. Dylan just seemed so broken.”

Skye’s friend shook her head. ”Wade and Dylan got pretty wild after that, and Tom wasn't allowed to hang out with them anymore. By then they’d started livin in the woods. They came to school enough to pass, but they became wild in a different way."

Skye slowly closed her eyes. As if their abuse hadn't been enough. Had these men gotten one break in life? Ever? Her eyes sought Jesse. If she hadn't rescued him, his life would have turned out the same. Her eyes drifted to Dylan. "And the shooting? They weren't charged?"

Tricia shook her head. "Ruled accidental. Tom's dad took care of the legal end. Everyone was aware of what happened but no one who'd seen the boys that day would've reckoned they could be punished any more than they already were.”

Tricia tipped her head toward the living room. ”Ya asked me what‘s between them? I don't think they blame each other, but I reckon they're not healed yet. It's like Mark is sittin there with them, reminding them of who they're missin."

Skye scanned the men in the other room and noticed Dylan nodding her way. She turned her head to wipe at the stray tears on her cheeks before stepping into the living room and raising an eyebrow at Dylan.

"Tom's gonna fill us in on what's been goin on around here,” he said. “Reckoned you'd want to hear it."

Skye’s shoulders tensed as she settled into a green overstuffed chair. She wasn't sure she did.

Thirty-One

So Much

When Tom launched into stories of fires, gangs, and attacks, Skye realized again just how sheltered she had been on the mountain. The stories seemed surreal to her. For a few minutes she listened intently taking in all the morbid tales but finally her brain refused any more.

Instead it drifted to the familiar, comforting sounds and smells that always meant safety. Tom’s voice melted into the background as Skye picked up the sound of a metal cookie pan scraping against an oven rack—another batch of cookies.

Tricia’s oven door made a slight squeak as she closed it, and Skye anticipated the taste of the warm cookies as the spatula brushed against the pan when Tricia moved the cookies to the counter.

This place, where a person was safe enough to make dessert, was one far from the scenes of violence that Tom was describing. This is where Skye wanted to stay.

But Tom wouldn’t let her. "Skye." She turned toward Tom. His brow wrinkled with concern, he walked to her and laid his hand on her shoulder. Skye winced at the flare of pain from her injury.

“I’m sorry. You’ve been through so much, but you need to be aware of what’s going on," Tom said.

Skye nodded and whispered, "Yes, of course."

Tom settled himself on the arm of Skye's chair before continuing. Skye had two reactions to something grim, and they both knew it. When someone needed her, someone she could help, she was all business, approaching the problem with doctor-like precision.

But when that didn't or couldn't work, she switched to avoidance mode. It wasn't something she intentionally did. It just happened, as if ignoring the problem would somehow make it all disappear.

Skye had tried to avoid problems before, during the tragic events at college, the worst of her marriage, and the beginning of this disease. The strategy had not worked in the past, and it wouldn't work now.

“This is a lot," Tom said. "Something you—we—never saw comin. Remember everything you’ve already survived, and you can survive this too. I know you need a break, but there won't be one. I wish it were different, but it is, what it is. You can do this."

Skye gave him a little smile as she slowly twirled her bracelets. “Don’t worry. I’m okay."

Tom nodded and continued his updating. "I dug a ham radio out of the back of a closet at the station and am using it to get what news I can. I reached police or residents in several towns and even in the city. What we're all tryin to find out now is if there is a government left.

"We still got a few working police stations. By that, I mean that someone is on the premises, anyway. But it's like here in most towns, pretty deserted. Everyone is just tryin to keep the healthy people safe from the sick.

“We started dividing people into three categories, Healthy, Infected and Sick. Most Healthy in this area are tryin to help out where they can. Course, I heard from others that isn't always the case. There's some like those guys you met on the road yesterday, so we are keepin alert for those type.

"The Sick are just that—sick. They can't help their actions but need rounded up when possible. They're spreading the disease and are a danger to others when they become enraged.”

Dylan agreed.

Tom went on. "The Infected. There, we've got our hands full and then some. The Infected realize they're diseased and some feel like they don't have anything to lose. Some are fine, family people tryin to get along with what time they have left. But others are forming large groups, and they are bent on destruction. Homes, towns, people, whatever, they don't care."

Wade’s face grew red, and he let out a string of curses. Jesse’s eyes rounded and he looked at Skye, who shook her head at Wade and nodded at Jesse. Wade threw an apology to Jesse and slouched down in his seat.

Skye caught Tom’s eye. “I met some of them in Fenton. They came after me.”

Jesse walked over to Skye and stood beside her. “Were you scared?”

Skye wrapped her arms around the boy. “Very.”

Dylan glanced at Skye and reassured Jesse. "That's why we stick to the hills, Jesse."

The boy quickly nodded. "And why no one's gonna go anywhere anymore."

"That's right." Both Dylan and Tom replied in unison then shot each other a determined look.

Tom continued. "The Infected are the most dangerous in my opinion. They can hide their symptoms of the sickness and can have a bad attitude. They sweep through the towns, making them virtual ghost towns, taking supplies and leaving behind disease, death and destruction.

“They burned a town entirely to the ground and left nothing standing. Some large towns are okay and have a lot of healthy people, but they still battle the Infected and Sick. The National Guard cordoned some towns, but they aren’t holding. And one Sick person can infect everyone so being inside one can be more dangerous than being on one’s own, especially since the cordons often become a magnet for criminals.”

"Like the night I left here. Is that when everything changed here in Colton?" Skye asked.

"Yeah, hasn't been the same since. We ran that group off, but people got spooked and headed off to relatives’ homes in other areas. Some got sick." Tom lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose as the memories came back to him. "Many had quick deaths, others I moved to the Clinic at Weirstown since it was still open at the time."

Tricia moved to stand by Tom, taking his hand.

"You know what happened to our Doc?" Wade asked.

"Seen him right before he headed to Fenton," Tom said. "Someone in charge told him he was needed there, to help with the Sick. Packed up his whole family. He thought it would be safer with all the government help and medicines there. I don't think it worked out so well for him though."

"Why?" Skye asked.

"They're sayin the Infected rule the city now, and hordes of Sick walk through it day and night. Fires burn out of control and large portions of Fenton are gone."

"What about the Fenton hospital?" Skye's throat tightened. The conditions there were so unstable.

Tom shook his head. "AgFlu raged through the building. No one survived."

Skye leaned forward, her head sinking to her hands. Tom laid a light hand on her back and gave her a minute.

Her heart ached at the terror and despair those poor people must have felt, the older lady, the young man, and the pregnant woman. She thought of Anna Lynn trying so hard to keep everyone alive. Skye hadn't held out a lot of hope for them, but she wished she'd been wrong.

"The good news is the Healthy continue to be rescued in Fenton and some outlying towns,” Tom said. "Once we get enough people together, we will have a community, and then we can have some law and order around here."

Tom tried to reassure them, but it would take more than a community to stop all the bad that was happening. Skye nodded as if in agreement, because she understood Tom's orderly mind needed to believe there would be an end to the chaos so he could wade through the bad he dealt with every day.

Skye was beginning to see exactly what would be required. When evil takes over your existence, it isn't as simple as saying you want your life back. You have to fight for it.

As her mind swirled with the daunting future she saw ahead of her, but Tom uttered the words he knew would ground her, words that cut through her churning thoughts with crystal clarity.

"They're finding kids, Skye, a lot of kids. They're gonna need you."

Thirty-Two

The Good

As Tom moved from the bad news to the good, Skye felt a warm glow. This is what she needed to hear, how she would help. Unfortunately, broken children had always been part of the world, but it made her feel good to help put them back together.

The others nodded and smiled as Tom named all the friends that were alive and well as of the last check in with the other towns. More survived than she expected given the desolate condition of Colton. They’d left, gone higher into the hills or crossed state lines to get closer to relatives.

The few families remaining in town pooled their resources together, keeping watch as a group with each person able taking a turn.

Skye nodded. Smart. Kinda like a Neighborhood Watch 2.0.

But Trisha's shoulders sagged. "Who would've ever thought we‘d be in this situation?"

"Lots of people did, you just didn't listen to 'em," Wade said as he crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat.

The group exchanged looks. The man had a point. There had been no lack of end of the world scenarios.

“Well, we're in it now, anyway.” Tom stood and waved toward the door. “I usually take a drive through town before dinner. See if there's anything that needs taken care of."

"Yes, please, you boys, go with him," Trish said. "I worry so about him out there alone. He corrals up any Sick he sees all by himself."

"It can't be helped, Tricia." Tom ran a hand down his wife's arm. "Someone's got to do it, and I'm the one with the badge. That is the job, and I'm gonna do it until I'm told not to."

"I know." Tricia sighed.

"Better than them showing up here lookin for dinner, and us, when they smell it cooking."

Goosebumps trailed down Skye. Was this something she should watch for? She turned her rounded eyes to Dylan, and he nodded in agreement. Had the Sick shown up at Cole’s place when she was cooking? How many times had she fired up the stove without a thought, and all the while one of them were on the lookout? This was yet another way Wade and Dylan had helped Jesse and her. Every time I have this figured out there's another thing I don't know.

Jesse grabbed Tom’s attention before he left. “When you been out there, have you seen my dad? And do you know anything about Grandma and Sue Ellen?"

Skye's heart dropped at his question. His family had been on his mind, and Skye had only been able to give him small reassurances.

Dylan reached out and laid a comforting hand on Jesse's shoulder, and Jesse leaned into him.

"Well, I haven't seen your dad, Jesse." Tom was gentle but candid. "But that can be a good thing. Many of the Sick end up roamin through town at some point. I haven't been going out as far as your house, but as soon as there's a good day, I’ll check it. That sound good?”

Jesse nodded.

"Now your grandmother and Sue Ellen, a guy in their town on the radio gave me a list of survivors. Let me go get it." Tom walked to the other room and came back with a sheet of paper. "This is from two days ago, and Sue Ellen was okay." He leaned down to Jesse showing him Sue Ellen's name on the list. Jesse solemnly stared at it for a moment before looking back up at Tom, a smile breaking out on his face.

"I'm sorry to say your grandmother isn't on the list."

"That's okay." Jesse’s quick reply told everyone what they needed to know about that relationship.

“Who is she with?" Dylan asked.

“They didn’t tell me that,” Tom said.

"Any way to get her here?” Dylan asked. “She's Jesse's family. We take care of our own; it's what we do.”

Tom smiled. “Of course, I’ll see what can be arranged."

Tricia waved everyone to the kitchen. “Before ya’ll take off, have a snack. Dessert is ready.”

Skye sighed as she bit into the soft, chewy cookie. “As always, these are delicious.”

Tricia had to accept the grunts of the men, and that each grabbed a second one before the first had left their mouths as signs of approval.

Jesse couldn't be stopped from swiping a steaming hot cookie right off the pan.

Tricia glowed. "It's so nice to have ya'll here. Why don't you stay over? Just for the night?"

Tom agreed. “I could use the help with a couple of heavy chores I need to get to, if you can spare the time.”

“Everything's covered at the cabin," Dylan said as Wade nodded, "Any reason you can think of that we can't, Skye?"

Her lips curved in a smile. "Nope, everything is fine for me."

"Seems we're good then," Dylan said, while Skye, Tricia, and Jesse playfully danced around the kitchen. This time together meant a lot more than it ever would have before.

Dylan looked around the room. “You need me to go out and get somethin?”

“No hunting required,” Tricia said. “but some gathering. The neighbor’s freezer built-up a frost, half covering a big ham. You could chip that outta there. I’ve been hopin to have an occasion to use it.”

Dylan gave a sharp nod. “Easiest huntin I ever did."

Quickly, Tricia figured out the menu. "That ham, some sweet potatoes, greens-"

"Oh, I forgot. We brought you some squash!" Skye said. “and some other stuff.”

Wade clapped and rubbed his hands together. "Sounds like we're gonna be eatin good tonight!"

* * *

Later that night, Skye stared at the ceiling as she lay on the guest room’s bed. Tricia had made Dylan, Wade and Jesse comfortable in the living room.

Skye patted her still full stomach and smiled. The pleasant evening had been a welcome relief after the last couple of days. She was fortunate to have friends and family left, many probably didn’t.

Skye sighed and turned to her side. She needed to call her dad, that was one reason she wanted to come to here. Skye bit the inside of her cheek. It was also something she found increasingly difficult to do. The small knot in the pit of her stomach had wound tighter and tighter throughout the day.

One worry after another flooded her mind. Tom’s news told how dangerous the cities were becoming. Even if her family survived the disease, would they survive the chaos?

If yesterday taught her anything, it was that she couldn't get to her family no matter how much she wanted to do so. Good or bad, I have to know how they’re doing. I refused the think about the whole situation today, but I need to call as soon as I can tomorrow.

Skye closed her eyes, but her worries didn’t allow sleep. She turned to her other side. It was too quiet. Used to the noises men and boys made in their sleep, the silence was overwhelming.

Skye rolled her eyes. She should be glad to get away from it for one night. But the sounds had stopped being an irritation a long time ago. They meant Wade and Dylan were near and that meant safety.

Skye huffed at her insecurity but stopped herself. There were certainly enough valid reasons for unease right now. She rose, wrapped a blanket around her, and tucking a pillow under her arm, she tip-toed down the stairs.

Wade and Jesse were deep in snoring slumber as they lay on the floor, but Dylan sat up, his head leaning against the back of the couch. He raised his head as soon as he saw her.

Skye stopped in the living room’s doorway. For a minute, she stared at Dylan across the darkened room. Her anxiety eased.

Dylan nodded Skye toward the empty recliner that was beside the couch he sat on. He knew why she was here. She went to it and slid onto the seat, then raised the footrest.

Skye turned toward Dylan. He stared at her, his eyes direct, intense. Her gaze fluttered to the ground, then back to him. She didn’t look away again until a slow smile curved the side of Dylan’s mouth. She pinked a bit and smiled back. Then Skye arranged her blanket and closed her eyes.

The couch springs squeaked as Dylan lay down. His quiet breathing soon turned to a comforting, soft snore. It lulled Skye to sleep.

Thirty-Three

Dad

The next morning after a big country breakfast, Skye could wait no longer. With a stomach already trying to reject the food it just devoured, she asked Tom for the use of his phone. Praying both that she would get through and that the phones wouldn’t work, she dialed her father's number.

Skye's breath caught with the first ring. She turned her frightened gaze to Tricia, who hurried to her side. Skye put a hand on her thumping heart as she waited for someone to answer. On the fifth ring, there was a click.

"Hello?" said Charlotte. Skye mouthed to Tricia that it was her sister-in-law.

"Charlotte? It's Skye."

"Skye! I'm so glad you got through." Relief was unmistakable in Charlotte's voice. "I was just going."

"Going? Going where?" Panic made Skye's tone sharper than she intended. She clenched the phone tighter.

Charlotte’s voice clogged with emotion. ”Skye, honey, I took your dad to the hospital yesterday. I'm so sorry. It—it came on so fast. He didn't make it. He passed away a few hours later.“

Skye was numb except for the sharp prickles that waved up and down her arms. She wasn’t hearing right. It couldn’t be. A sharp pain shot through her.

A whisper at first, then a shout, “Daddy, no. No!" Tricia put her arms around Skye and she grabbed onto her.

Charlotte did what she could to reassure Skye. ”Your dad didn't suffer. I was with him the whole time. It wasn't the AgFlu. It was his heart. We made sure he was as comfortable as possible.”

"I should have been there." Skye forced the self-condemning words out.

"No, Skye, please don't think that," Tricia said as she rubbed Skye's back.

Skye brought a hand to her forehead. “Oh, Charlotte, I’m so sorry. I tried to make it, I really did. I'm sorry. Thank you so much for being there for him." Sorrow tightened her throat.

"You have nothing to apologize for. Your dad was happy to know you were safe. That meant everything to him."

"Yes, yes, of course. Charlotte, are you okay?"

"Yes, so far I am. My sister is a few streets over, and I'm going to stay with her now."

"And Bobby and Janie, anything from them?"

Charlotte uttered a sob. "No word about them, I asked everyone, even at the hospital. I'm hoping, praying, that means they found a safe place somewhere. I will leave a note for them. If you somehow hear from them, tell them I’m staying at Gretchen’s. How about you Skye? Are you still well?”

“Yes, I'm fine. I did get sick but got over it. I'm visiting Tom and Tricia today and using their landline, but I'm still up in the hills with the Coles. It's secure, really nice. I had wanted to bring dad and you all here--" Her words trailed off as fresh tears started.

"Good, you stay there. It eased your dad's mind knowing you were safe." Agony laced Charlotte's tone as she asked, "How did we get here, having conversations like this?" She cleared her throat. "I can't say it's nice here, but we'll get by. If I need to, I'll head down there. But right now, I want to stay with my family and hope that Bobby and Janie come home. If that doesn't work out, I have another sister outside of town that has been begging us to join her."

Skye asked Charlotte to leave Tom's number and address in her note for Bobby and wrote down Charlotte's contact information. They each gave their assurances they would try to stay in touch. Both took their time saying their goodbyes, worried it would likely be the last conversation they would ever have with each other.

Skye slowly hung up the phone, her head bowed. Her greatest fear had materialized. "They're all gone. My family is just gone." She was hollow, a hole sat in her chest where her beating heart used to be.

Tricia and Tom wrapped her in their arms, and Skye leaned into them letting their small words of comfort encourage her. Though consoling others didn't come naturally to Wade, Dylan, or Jesse, each did their best.

Jesse came over to Skye and hugged her, the first he had ever initiated. “Hug me for as long as you need to, I can take it."

Skye smiled through her tears, stroked his hair and drew him closer.

The whole execution seemed awkward to Wade, but he managed a stiff hug not too unlike Dylan’s first hug. He made it quick but gave her back a few pats.

Dylan reached over everyone, wrapped his hand around her upper arm and pulled her into his embrace. As his strong, warm arms comforted her, Skye blew out a long, soft breath and laid her head against his chest. She reached around Dylan, putting her hands on his back and leaned against him, knowing he would hold her up.

When Skye's tears started again, Dylan consoled her. "There's nothin you could've done."

* * *

Tom frowned as he watched Skye and Dylan. When had this happened? He was supposed to be a cop, and this was the first he’d noticed. He threw a questioning glance to his wife.

But Tricia didn’t look at him. She watched Dylan and Skye with a smile as wide as the New River Gorge. Apparently, she had seen this coming, probably from the time they hit the door.

Tom’s frown deepened, and he folded his arms as he stepped back from the group. As he got ready to clear his throat, Tricia rapped on his forearm.

She wagged her finger at him and mouthed, “None of your business.” As if that wouldn’t give him enough of a hint, she shot him a narrow-eyed glare.

Tom’s uncertain glance went from Tricia to the couple and back again.

Still... Tom wasn’t sure how he felt about this. He sent Tricia a scowl, then turned to take his police-issued Glock out of his gun case and holster it before he did his rounds.

He refused to look at Skye and Dylan, instead turning his gaze to the living room’s rain-dotted picture window.

Something caught his eye. There was movement in the stand of trees facing the house.

Thirty-Four

One Way or the Other

The change in Tom’s demeanor caught Dylan’s attention. “Stay here,” he whispered to Skye as he pushed her back and grabbed his own rifle.

Dylan stepped up beside Tom. “What do you—” Dylan saw it too. A flash of blue in the grove of trees. “He’s runnin!”

Tom, Dylan, and Wade raced out the front door. Tom yelled back to Tricia, "You know what to do!"

The men rushed out to the wooded tree-line facing the living room but whoever it was had disappeared. A squeal of tires against pavement on the other side of a small rise told them where, but by the time they got to the top, the intruder was out of sight.

Grateful the rain clouds were breaking up, Dylan headed back to the stand of trees and waved Wade and Tom over. “Let’s see what we can find out.”

Tom looked up at the upstairs window of his house. Tricia, Skye, and Jesse aimed rifles out the window. "I'm really hoping one of them doesn't shoot us.”

Wade and Dylan gave a deep chuckle of amusement. "We've taught ours how to shoot," Wade said. "Whatcha been doin with yours? ‘Cause last I knew she was a lousy shot.”

“Tricia is probably a better shot than you,” Tom said.

Dylan glanced up at the house and scoffed, then he got down to business pointing out what he saw. "Yeah, someone's been here. A man, most likely. It's trampled, he stood here a little while. Left behind a couple of these." Dylan kicked at a few hotel-size bottles of alcohol littering the ground.

Wade scratched his cheek with the palm of his hand as he examined the scene. “Did you see this, brother?”

“Yeah, he came from and headed toward the road.” Dylan pointed in the direction he meant.

"Let's check it out," Tom said.

The men hoisted their weapons and retraced their steps to the small hill, their feet sinking in the rain-soaked ground. They topped the rise and looked over the scene below, hoping to see something new. A car-sized square of dry pavement stood out on the empty rain-soaked street.

Dylan tracked the stranger. “He was moving fast. See? He fell here and slid on the wet grass.” He looked at the other two men. “And from what I'm seeing, this isn't the first time he's been here."

Tom's jaw set at the news. One look at each other, and the men scattered. One up each side of the street, and the other over the hill on the opposite side, but their investigation lead to no more clues than they already had.

Tom frowned and huffed out a breath. "I'll check with my guys around here, but why would any of them do this? They don't need to be casing my house, they can just come on in."

A scowl covered Dylan's face. “Nah. There ain't no reason for someone friendly to do this. Something’s up, Tom, and I don’t like it.”

Tom's eyes narrowed as he scanned the empty hills. "Neither do I, D, neither do I."

Wade offered his opinion in the form of a large splat of saliva he spewed to the ground.

The men milled around for a couple of minutes but unable to do anything else they walked to the house. Once there, Tricia headed straight for Tom hugging him in relief as he told her of their findings.

Dylan looked at Skye. Her worry eased once Tom said the person had left. Skye made her way over to Dylan, and they hung back as Tricia invited the others out to the house's fenced-in patio.

Dylan put a light hand on Skye’s back. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Yes. I mean, it’s disconcerting but there is nothing to do.” Skye glanced up at Dylan. “I was actually thinking of something else.”

Dylan raised an eyebrow.

“Well, your family, Dylan. It might be a good time to contact them. I really hope you get better news than I did, but I'm sure you want to know one way or the other." A tear trailed down her cheek, and she brushed it away.

Dylan nodded as he lightly ran a hand down her arm. She was right. This could be his last chance to call his dad.

Skye settled outside with the others, and Dylan went to the phone. He chewed the side of his thumb as he listened to it ring. When his dad answered, relief rolled over him.

Dylan’s voice broke as he addressed his father in their native language, one of the few words he knew.

"Son, is that you? I've worried about you." His father's voice quivered.

Dylan’s chest swelled as it always did when this man claimed him as son, then the familiar ache started. Emotion often welled up in Dylan when he spoke with his real father. To have a parent care for him as much as this man did moved Dylan, and while tears were hard to come by the ache was not. Dylan slowly rubbed the spot at his heart trying to get it to calm.

"Are you well? Is Wade healthy?" his father quickly asked.

"Yeah, yeah. Well, Wade’s dad died." Dylan's tone was flat, it was no loss to him. "But me and Wade are fine. How ‘bout you and yours?"

"Better than most. When this disease started, we enforced a strict quarantine here, so we kept the number exposed to it low. We've lost a few here, but none of your brothers or sisters."

Dylan felt a burden lift he'd been unaware he carried. He had several siblings on that side of his family. His father had been married twice, both times to women who loved raising children. It was a relief they all were okay.

"Come here to us, Son."

"It's not that easy. I've taken in--well, we've been helpin out a woman and a boy. She's got a bit of family left here, and I reckon she won't want to leave."

"You have a woman now?" His father’s voice lifted with interest.

"No," Dylan quickly said. "No, I didn't mean--"

His father broke in and chuckled. "Sounds to me like you have a woman."

Resigned to his father's humor, Dylan gave in. "I don't know what she is, but we're helpin her."

"Bring her too. And your brother and the boy, there's room here for all of you. It’s where you should be, where you always should’ve been.“

Dylan bowed his head. A part of him did belong there. ”I’ll keep it in mind, but your place is a ways off. We had trouble getting to Skye’s family, and she‘s closer. We shouldn't go that far unless we have to. We’re set up pretty good on the mountain, but Dad, we just might end up there, if need be."

“Her name’s Skye, uh?”

Dylan laughed. “Dad.”

“I like knowing there’s someone for you.”

Dylan looked around the corner to stare at Skye sitting with the others. “She’s someone all right.”

“Good. Keep her. And know I’m here for you. Our people have existed long before this thing, and we will exist long after. You need me--I'm here."

"Yeah, Dad, I know. You've always been there for me."

Father and son exchanged contact information, including where they would leave sign if either left their area so the other could follow, if it came to that. Dylan then told his dad everything he’d learned about the AgFlu.

They stayed on the phone as long as they could, first with small talk and as that dwindled, content with silence, grateful for the connection between them.

When Dylan hung up, he raised his hand to the tears slipping down his face.

Thirty-Five

Seems to Me

Dylan joined the others on the patio, stopping first in the doorway and letting the sun warm him and take away the morning chill. Sitting beside Skye, the only empty seat left, Dylan informed every one of his family's news.

Skye gave Dylan a gracious smile. “I’m so happy for you and your family. What a difference! If only Disease Control kept a stricter quarantine, maybe other families would have the same good outcome.” She hung her head.

At Skye’s words, Tricia bristled. “Pfft, or any quarantine! Cowards!” She rose from her seat. “I’ll get us some drinks.”

Tricia gave Dylan a sharp stare and a nod toward the kitchen, he followed her. Tricia pulled glasses out of the cupboard, and handing part to Dylan, told him to fill them with water. Suspicious, Dylan nodded, and glanced at Tricia out of the corner of his eye. What did she want with him?

Tricia leaned against the counter, crossing her arms and tipping her head. “You aware that girl's sweet on you?”

Not again. Dylan tensed and snorted his disbelief. “Nah, she ain’t. She wants to be friends.”

"She don't see it yet, but she's figurin it out," Tricia insisted as they settled deeper into their local dialect.

Dylan scorned Tricia’s opinion. "Look at ‘er, look at me."

Undeterred, Tricia flung her hand out in Skye's direction. "Ya think that girl's afraid of country? That girl was born and bred country, she just wandered over the city line a bit, is all. Country ain't her problem. Be patient, she's had a rough go of it, but she'll let ya know what it is, soon as she can."

With his hands gripping the countertop’s edge as he leaned back against it, Dylan snapped his jaw shut. He didn't want to discuss this, especially when he thought he'd just gotten it all figured out.

But Tricia continued anyway, "At the risk of sounding trendy, it ain’t you. Skye's got some stuff she's figurin out."

Through the doorway, Dylan watched Skye as she curled up in the patio chair with Jesse beside her, whispering in her ear. Skye raised her head and laughed, her face lighting up for a moment before her grief came back to her.

If it could work out... Dylan pulled his gaze away and shook his head. Don't help to think like that.

Tricia poked him in the arm. “I know what’cha thinkin. Don't give up on her, she needs ya and more than that she wants ya.”

Dylan rubbed his arm and frowned. “Stop pokin at me. Ya know I hate that.”

“What I know is, it’s the best way to get your attention.”

“Stop it, Trish. We ain’t kids no more. And anyway, a girl like that don't end up with a boy like me."

Tricia puffed out an irritated sigh. "You forget we shared the same hills, D. I see you, and I see her. And you got it all wrong." She recrossed her arms. “Seems to me a boy like you don't know nothin ‘bout Skye. Here's the truth of the matter, and ya darn well know it, there's no boy like you and girl like her. Not no more. There's just two people trying to survive." Tricia poked her finger at his chest. "Survive together."

Dylan gave Tricia a hard stare. "Can't believe you're sayin all this, what with Tom and all."

With a wistful glance over at Tom, Tricia said, "Me and my husband have disagreed about ya for some time now. You wouldn't have gotten in so much trouble if things wouldn't have been— well, what they were. On the other hand, I reckon that spat of upset taught you a few things. Things that are gonna be useful now. Cause to survive, you will have to be the trouble."

Dylan nodded. If those men on the road were any sign, that was true. Be the trouble, or the trouble will take you.

Tricia moved to poke Dylan again, and he swatted her hand away. She frowned at him. “Are ya listenin, ya big lug?”

“Yeah. I hear ya.” Dylan scowled back. "Now stop, or I’ll tell Tom to keep ya away from me.”

Tricia’s eyes teased. “Big D! Always was scared of lil’ ol’ me. I guess I was always too tough for ya? Uh, Dylan?”

A matching light entered Dylan’s stare taking him back to their younger days. He jumped toward Tricia causing her to squeal and hop backward. They laughed, and Tricia gave Dylan a quick hug.

“I care about ya,” she said. “I want to see ya happy--and Skye. You can do that for each other.”

Dylan glanced at Skye again, he never seemed to take his eyes off her for long. “I hope you’re right, Trish.”

“I am,” she said and handed Dylan a tray of drinks.

The two entered the patio to find Skye listing the advantages of moving up to the mountain.

Dylan set the tray down on a sage-colored plastic end table and added to the conversation. “There’s empty cabins all around us now. You could have one.”

On seeing the drinks, Skye asked Dylan to pass her one. Quickly, he handed one to her as he reminded himself that this is what her kind of folks do. Nice people offer drinks, especially to people they care about.

Wade leaned forward in his seat. “I gotta lot of know-how. I can get any of them in fine workin order for you. There’s others who've made it through the AgFlu livin up there, got the makings of a little town now. Seems fittin the sheriff would be up there too.”

Tom laid back in his chair and voiced his misgivings. "I feel like I need to stay here in Colton. There are people here too, and if the Infected return and try set up house here, we'll have lost it."

“And be safe up in the hills,” Dylan said, “Move up for the fall and winter. Then come spring, if we have to, we'll come back here and make a stand. We can watch them from up there.”

Tom glanced at Tricia and looked at the ground. “I can’t commit, but I will visit next week and see how it would work out for any wanting to move up there. How’s that?”

Dylan nodded. It was a step in the right direction.

“In the meantime, D, let me give you a radio so we can stay in touch.”

The day flew by and soon it was time to leave. The expression on Skye’s face said it all, and Dylan laid a hand on her shoulder when a tear slid over her cheek. When Dylan looked back at Tricia and Tom, he couldn’t miss the emotion that played across Tom’s face.

It was clear Tom didn’t like Skye and Dylan getting close. And Dylan would probably feel the same if he were in Tom’s shoes. Tom was the law, and he and Wade had rode the edge of that for some time now. Dylan stiffened. Tom may want Skye here, but things were different now. She belonged on the mountain with them. Dylan waited for the words he knew would come.

After clearing his throat, Tom said, "I've got to thank you, boys. Skye says you took good care of her. But Skye, you and Jesse can stay here now. You'd be good company for Tricia. I'll follow you back, get your things, and we'll be home in a no time."

Unsettled, Tricia glared at her husband. The men were still for a moment. It seemed like an order and that didn’t sit well. As one, Dylan, Wade, and Jesse closed ranks around Skye. "Yeah," Dylan said, "we're gonna keep her."

Tom bristled at Dylan. "You don't just keep— Skye belongs here."

Before things escalated, Skye smiled, pushing Wade aside as she stepped forward beside Dylan. "That's okay, Tom. I'm keeping them too."

Tom sighed and brought his hands to his hips. "All right then, I guess I can't say anything to that."

Tricia swatted her husband before hugging them all. "I hate what this disease is doing to us. First, our businesses gone, then our families and now we are separated."

“Well,” Wade said, “you decide to move on up to the mountain, just haul your stuff up there when you come and visit. And bring some of those cookies.” Wade sprinted to the kitchen to stuff his pocket with a few more. On his way back, Wade wrapped an arm around Jesse and slid him a couple of the treats.

Skye waved at Tom and Tricia as she walked to the truck.

When they were almost to the vehicle, Dylan turned and shouted to Tom and Tricia, "Hey, you know where we can find some chickens?"

Thirty-Six

The Crash

Frankie laid on the hill near the road and watched as Skye and Jesse settled in the car. As he pulled at the wet grass, he took another swig of his too-small bottle of whiskey. They almost caught me, but I tricked 'em. Sped off and found a different spot to spy.

Frankie had watched Tom’s house for days hoping Skye and Jesse would show up. Today was his lucky day.

Jesse smiled up at Skye when she tossed his hair. Their affection made Frankie feel bad, and he didn’t like it. He should be the one to do that. It was his right, he was Jesse’s parent, not her.

That’s my kid—my kid you’re going on about, makin him a momma's boy. Boys need to be tough.

As Wade and Dylan got into their vehicle, Frankie pushed himself up off the grass and made a drunken mad dash to his car. After stumbling a few times, he stayed low to the ground. Once Frankie reached it, he opened and shut the door with exaggerated quietness.

From here, Frankie barely made out the top of the black truck as the vehicle backed out of the driveway, but he needed to keep his distance. With no other traffic on the road, if he got too close, he would arouse suspicion.

Impatiently, Frankie waited until Tom and Tricia walked into their house to start his car. He gripped the steering wheel as he watched them waving, twisting his hands on it as he bided his time. The instant the front door shut, he turned the key and slammed the car into gear.

Raising the whiskey bottle to his lips, Frankie sucked out the drops that remained, then hurled bottle behind him with enough force to further crack the already broken back window. He glowered at the truck that slipped around the curves in front of him.

Do ya think you can just beat me and leave me for dead? Take my boy? Thought it’d scare me of, huh? Guess what? I don’t scare easy. You just lit the fire, boys, you just lit the fire. My whole life people been looking down on me. You’re no better than me! Bad enough when the state took ‘im. But there ain’t no law now. I want my boy back, I just take 'im. You nobodies ain’t got any right to steal what’s mine. And that boy is mine, like it or not.

Determined, Frankie removed a hand from the steering wheel to stroke the gun on the seat beside him. I’ll get 'im back whatever it takes.

Anger popped and stretched within him, and he inhaled deeply only to jerk in anguish. Broken ribs, and no doctor meant a slow recovery for Frankie. His resentment grew along with his pain.

What if, instead of only getting his boy back, he made them pay for taking Jesse in the first place? Frankie wiggled a little straighter in his seat. He liked that idea. Hurt them like they had hurt him. Frankie sucked in a lip as he attempted to think of a plan. What he had in the trunk would help, but it would take more than him. Trouble was, there wasn‘t much he was able to do by himself and like-minded people—well, any people were hard to come by nowadays.

Carefully, Frankie worked his way around the curves. One wrong move and the group in front of him would see him. He couldn't allow them even a glance. Today he would find out where they lived. Later he would return to do what he wanted.

Dylan's truck slowed, and Frankie brought his car to a crawl. Worried he was caught, Frankie stopped before the next turn, got out and walked to the curve. To peek around the rocky hill, he kept close to it and slowly worked his way to where he could observe Cole’s group.

Dylan’s pickup idled, and a quick glimpse showed Frankie an armed Dylan and Wade striding down the road directly at him.

Frankie ran for the gun he’d left in the car. He skidded to a stop and glanced back. He’d never make it before they rounded the corner. Desperately, he searched the ground on the lower side of the hill until he spotted a narrow trail. Frankie raced for it.

He slid down the steep path kicking up wet mud and stones. He grabbed a tree to break his fall and laid flat against the hillside.

Frankie saw Wade and Dylan from the chest up as they sauntered to his car and took his gun and a few other items from the front seat. They moved to the loaded trunk, and Frankie held his breath. The two talked as they scanned the area. When they stepped closer to the edge, Frankie blew out a sigh. If they had opened that, he didn’t know what would happen.

Instead, Dylan and Wade readied their weapons and called out to Frankie. Wade said something to Dylan, and they both laughed. At Dylan's delighted nod, Wade got into the driver's seat of Frankie’s car and maneuvered it, so it crossed the street instead of aligned with it. The battered car now faced the clear expanse of sky and the edge of the road.

Realizing their intention, Frankie took off, half running, half skidding down the hill. He knew what was in that trunk, he’d put it there.

"Hey!" One of them said as Frankie continued down the hill as fast as he could go. He wasn't stopping. He knew what waited for him if he did.

"Hey!" came the shout again.

Gravel crunched, and there was a scrape of metal against pavement as the two brothers pushed the front end off the edge. Frankie threw a glance over his shoulder, hoping it would stop there. Instead, it flew over the side so close to him Frankie could have touched it.

Front over end, it rushed by him. Grinding and crashing with the first hit. Frankie dodged the rock and dirt that shot up all around him, stinging him in a million places. The car continued its erratic, deafening course as it went. He ducked and hugged the dirt, waiting.

On the final smash, it teetered back and forth before it stopped and shuddered. For a moment, Frankie thought the car's journey was at its end, but he was wrong.

The vehicle shot upward as it exploded into hundreds of fiery pieces. Orange and yellow flames decorated the fragments and licked at what remained on the ground. Frankie ducked what he guessed was part of a door coming at him. It hit the hill above him and slid, smoke rolling off the metal and the turf beneath it.

Frankie's face, hot from the explosion, reddened further with the shout of triumph from above. Dylan and Wade laughed and applauded at the site of the flames. Then slapped each other on the back as they walked toward their truck.

Once their truck roared to life, Frankie grabbed at grass and roots, pulling himself up the hill. Ribs aching from the effort, he hauled himself onto the road and stared after the pickup. His anger reached a fervor rivaling the flames below.

I'm gonna kill them.

Thirty-Seven

Ready

Crunching metal and shattering glass along with the boom of an explosion loud enough to make Skye’s ears hurt had her scrambling for the car door handle, Jesse right behind her.

"No! Back in the truck. You stay in this car!" Skye told him, pushing him onto the seat with one hand.

"I want to see!" Jesse's eyes lit up with excitement. Even from here, the flames were visible, and he was eager for a closer look.

"No! I said no!"

"Well, what if they are coming for us? And you leave me here and--"

Skye huffed. "Oh, my—Jesse! Fine! But you stay right by me, you hear?"

Jesse nodded several times. Skye grabbed hold of his shirt. She would take no chances with him.

Cautiously, Skye and Jesse rounded the curve to see Dylan and Wade looking gleefully over the hill at the blaze. The tension in Skye eased, and when Jesse struggled to break away, she let him.

“Dylan!” Jesse said as he raced to the Coles.

When Dylan turned toward Jesse, his expression changed, and he waved Jesse back.

“I wanna see,” Jesse said.

“Nah, Jesse, not today.” Dylan corralled the boy as he tried to peer over the side of the road. Wade and Dylan started up the hill, dragging Jesse along with them.

Skye met the three on their way up the street. “Dylan? What’s wrong?”

Dylan frowned and shook his head. “Ain’t nothin wrong. We just need to go.”

“But what happened?”

“Nothin.”

Skye raised an eyebrow at Dylan.

He nodded at Jesse who he was still half-dragging up the road. “We’ll talk about it later.”

When Skye opened her mouth, Dylan repeated, his voice stern, “Later.”

“Okay.” Skye lowered her head and rolled her eyes. He hadn’t even known what she was going to say.

Jesse didn’t give up though. "Oh, come on, that’s not fair! I just wanna see!"

“Not this time, buddy,” Dylan said. “I’ll blow somethin else up for you."

"Come on, Jesse," Wade said, "Let's go back to the pickup now."

Dylan let the boy loose so he could follow Wade, and chuckled as Jesse jabbered a long list of everything he would like to blow up someday.

Once Jesse was out of earshot, Skye sent a questioning glance to Dylan. When he didn’t respond other than a shake of his head, she jabbed him in the arm.

He rubbed the spot. “I hate being poked.”

“So I heard. I hate being treated like a child.”

Dylan snorted. “Okay. That’s fair.” He glanced up at Jesse and lowered his voice. “It was Frankie.”

Skye stopped and placed a hand on her chest. “Are you kidding me?”

Dylan stared at Skye, gauging her reaction to the news before shaking his head and studying the pavement. “No.”

With wide eyes, Skye looked at Dylan unable to believe what he told her. Her gaze turned to the forest-covered hills, over the valley and back to Dylan as she thought about the situation. Then she asked, “What was he doing?”

Dylan pressed his lips together a couple times. “Followin us. Probably trying to see where we live.”

“Oh, no! Dylan, what if he finds us? I was hoping... Well, I know it’s horrible, but I was hoping he’d gotten the AgFlu.”

Dylan’s mouth twisted. “Weren’t we all?”

“How did he look?”

“Healthy, but still beat up. Think he’d learn.”

Skye waved toward the fire. “What happened there?”

Dylan pointed to the edge of the roadway. “He ran down the side of the mountain, and we pushed his car over.”

Skye raised her eyebrows. “You threw a car at him?” When Dylan looked down and scraped his foot along the road, she asked, “You couldn’t have just taken the keys?”

A bit of red colored Dylan’s cheeks. “Wade’s way was more fun.”

Skye blinked a couple times and crossed her arms. “Figures we have him to thank for this.”

“Hey, I was all for it too.”

Skye frowned. “Why was it that big of explosion?”

“Seems like he had a surprise for us in the trunk.”

Skye started walking again. “This is horrible! I don’t like this, I really don’t. I thought he’d just give up.”

Dylan laid a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Skye. He will now.”

Skye stared up at Dylan. “I don’t want anything happening to Jesse, to any of us.”

Dylan gave her a solemn nod. “I know. Me either, and to get Jesse away from Wade would be like wrestling a bear.”

Skye chuckled even as tears flooded her eyes. She glanced down.

“Hey.” Dylan put a finger to Skye’s jaw and tipped her face to his. “Jesse’s okay. We’re okay, and we’re stayin that way. Frankie’s got a long walk back, and that’s if he’s in decent condition. I’ll radio Tom, and he can keep an eye open for him.”

His callused thumb wiped away an escaped tear. Skye caught Dylan’s hand and laid her cheek to it. “Thank you.”

Dylan’s gaze met Skye’s and held hers, refusing to let go. He raised his other hand and lightly ran it down her hair only to tangle his fingers at its edge.

Skye’s heart thumped. Almost all rational thought left her as she held Dylan’s intense dark-blue gaze. The world around them disappeared as Skye set her palm on Dylan’s chest and felt the hard strum of his heart beneath it.

With a gentle tug on the hair he held, Dylan drew Skye to him. Her knees weakened, but she managed a tiny step forward. It was enough.

Her eyes on his, Skye slowly gathered his t-shirt into her fist. Dylan’s heart quickened beneath her hand, and Skye’s throat went dry for a moment. She swallowed.

Dylan’s gaze questioned Skye. He gave her time, and she took it, still returning his intense gaze. Then she wavered.

Skye looked at the trees, Dylan's face, the road, Dylan’s lips—soon anywhere but him.

Dylan tugged on Skye’s hair again, and her gaze shot back to him. “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered. “Come here.”

Skye fell into Dylan’s arms. A kiss she couldn’t do yet, but this… this was perfect. “I’m sorry. I’m just not ready yet.”

“It’s fine. I’ll be here.”

And he would be. When Dylan said he’d do something, he would do it. He’d be there for her, not rushing, not pushing, letting her have the time she needed.

Skye nodded and closed her eyes listening to his steady heart, as Dylan’s powerful arms sheltered her. The blare of the truck’s horn startled Skye. When she jumped, Dylan chuckled. He looked down at her. “I guess they’re getting impatient.”

Skye looked up at him. “Hungry more like it. Neither one can go more than a couple hours without eating.”

“Well, a couple hours is a long time,” Dylan said as he pinched a little of Skye’s hair between two fingers, followed it down to her shoulder and let go. “Come on.”

Dylan ran a palm down Skye’s arm and folded his calloused fingers around her smooth ones. She squeezed Dylan’s hand and gave him a shy smile.

When they reached the pickup, Dylan opened the door. “Get on up there, woman.”

“Yeah, what took you so long?” Jesse said, “We’re hungry. We need you to make us food.”

Skye let out a sharp laugh. “Everyone in this truck is more than capable of making their own food. I’m not the maid. I don’t take orders.”

Dylan settled himself into the driver’s seat. “Yeah, you could work on that a bit.”

Skye’s amusement grew. “I could work on that?”

With a serious frown, Dylan nodded. “Yeah, like when I say something, you hop to it.”

“Pfft, I’m not a rabbit! The only place I’ll hop to anything is in your dreams!” Skye shoved back in her seat and watched Dylan’s eyes track her.

“Yeah, apparently. You’ve made that clear.” Dylan held his tough demeanor for a moment before letting a slight smile curve the side of his mouth. “Somethin else to add to them.”

Skye giggled and held Dylan’s gaze in the mirror, a twinkle in her eye. “How about you listen to me for once?” Skye smirked. “Take me home, tough guy.”

Dylan winked at Skye. “Yes, ma’am.”

Sanctuary’s Aggression 3: The Climb

This box set is compiled in the order in which the books were written. The prequel books, The Beginning and The Atlantis Cure, can be read first or where they are located in the box set.

The prequels are important to the conclusion of the series.

Thank you for reading the series. :)

The Climb: Sanctuary’s Aggression 3 © 2019 Maira Dawn

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Not part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

For Trent.

The light of my life.

My Jesse.

Contents

1. Calvin

2. Close

3. Home

4. Promise Me

5. Weston

6. Get This Done

7. Flash Bang

8. Getting Home

9. Quarantine

10. A Fine Idea

11. The Picnic

12. Reach

13. Promises

14. Something About That Woman

15. Womanly Attention

16. No Sense in Freezing

17. Ain’t Any Good

18. Burdens

19. Words

20. Crazy Out of his Mind

21. A Different Man

22. Salvation

23. Family

24. Tomorrow It Is

25. If You Stay

26. A Chance

27. One Piece

28. Close

29. Deserted

30. Headlines

31. My Boy

32. Hope

33. White Coats

34. The Bad Guys

35. I Will If I Have To

36. Defeat

37. The Only Thing

38. Skye

39. Fix Her

40. The End of Me

41. The Beginning of Them

One

Calvin

Calvin, Tony, and Pete drove along at a leisurely pace. Calvin's hands kneaded the steering wheel as he stared at the road in front of him. The rays of the autumn sun overheated the men, so he rolled down the windows. The wind ruffled their hair as they traveled the highway.

Tony sat in the back seat, his bad leg stretched out, healing from the wound Jesse gave him. Calvin had managed to patch it up, but he was no medic. Everyone knew it wasn't good enough. Calvin caught Tony's fierce expression in the rearview mirror. Revenge boiled in Tony. His leg would never heal right, and he'd limp for the rest of his life. A blind man could tell that if Tony ever got hold of that kid, he would be happy if a limp was all Tony gave him.

Pete kept his eyes on the side window refusing to look at his friends. The back of his bloody head and a red blush on the top of his ears was all they could see. Pete couldn't get over being taken down by a girl.

No one ever beat Pete. His whole life he had been the largest, strongest kid, and now he was a massive man. A little slow maybe, even he would admit that, but he believed his size more than made up for that. Now he'd been beaten by a woman. Not even a big one either. A kinda small one, at least from his point of view. It stung. All that little girl did was push on a car and down he went.

Calvin whistled as they drove on, confident they would find the woman and the kid. At first, he'd been angry, but there was no reason for that now, it'd just get in the way. When a person was furious, they didn't think straight. Strong emotion had messed him up more than once.

And anyway, there was no doubt they would find them. Calvin knew it from the moment they pulled away from the side of the road. Both the Jeep and the truck's license plate contained their county name, and it wasn't like there were many towns in such a small area. If he and the boys needed to go town by town, they'd track them down.

A sky-blue Jeep and that huge black truck would be remembered by someone. They'd find them, it was just a matter of time.

And time was different now. With no TV or computers, no work or families, it was all they had left. The trick was filling it, and Calvin was very good at doing that.

Two

Close

Skye relaxed into the seat of Dylan's new truck and scanned the landscape they passed hoping they would never see Frankie again. This time was a surprise, and it was one too many. Though pushing his car over the side of the mountain seemed extreme, perhaps Frankie would now understand he couldn’t take Jesse from them.

Dylan quietly cursed and straightened in his seat. Skye glanced from Dylan to where he stared through the front windshield, but she saw nothing.

Dylan stopped the truck, letting it idle. His hands gripped the steering wheel as he looked from the forest to Wade. Clearly, what they saw unnerved them.

So as not to disturb a sleeping Jesse, Dylan spoke softly as he waved Skye closer to him. “Some Sick just walked through those trees."

Skye's hands tightened on the back of Dylan's seat, and her stomach turned. "Just when we're almost safe at home."

"That's the thing, they're so close to the cabin. We gotta check this out."

Skye's eyes widened." What? No. It's too dangerous. Remember last time?"

"I do, but I also know we can't have Sick wandering around in our back yard. We gotta see what's goin on."

"Them? How many were there?" Skye's voice rose with her anxiety.

"A few, and we need to know how many. We can't have Sick or Infected comin up on us unawares."

Skye closed her eyes. Dylan was right. To have any amount of Sick roaming the woods was risky, but to have Dylan and Wade out scouting them was dangerous too.

"You'll be okay," Dylan said. "Wade will stay here with you and the boy."

Skye shook her head." You can't go by yourself, you need someone with you." She wound up her courage. "I'll go."

Dylan opened his mouth to object, but before he could, Skye pulled one of his own moves on him and said, "Are we going to go, or are we going to sit here and argue about this?"

Dylan raised an eyebrow at her. "Skye."

"I'll be quiet, you know I can. I'll follow all your hundreds of forest instructions to the best of my ability. You need someone else out there, someone to have your back. "

Dylan hesitated, and Wade cleared his throat. "Far be it from me to get mixed up in whatever you have going on here, but bro, I'd rather see you have someone too. I should be here in case they circle back." Wade tipped his head at Skye. "Can she run?"

"Oh yeah, she can run," Dylan said with a twinge of pride in his voice.

"Okay, then. Stay back from them. She'll be fine."

Dylan waved Skye out of the truck then reminded her of his most crucial rules. Skye dutifully bowed her head to each of them. When Dylan finished, he gave her a hard stare assessing her forest worthiness. When Skye could take no more, she pushed his arm to get him to turn around and get started.

He resisted for a minute before reaching back into the truck for a couple of rifles. He handed one to Skye, and she grimaced.

"Take it or you ain't comin."

"I know." Skye paused before slinging it over her shoulder. Bashing two men still haunted her. She certainly didn't want the added violence of shooting one.

Dylan started for the tree line along the road and broke through the brush, holding back a branch for Skye. He easily followed the trail left by the Sick. It was plain enough even Skye could see it. Leaves and dirt had been kicked up on the Sick's way through. Either they didn't care or were not aware of what they were doing.

As Dylan pointed out signs of the people they trailed, a frown drew his eyebrows. "These aren't the only ones out here."

Skye shivered. "What? There's more than the ones you saw?"

Dylan nodded. "See." He pointed out more broken twigs and overturned fallen leaves in one, two, then three places.

Skye's glance darted around the trees. "Why would they be here?”

Dylan shrugged. "That's what we're here to find out."

Skye wrapped her arms around herself and quickly looked at the ground sternly reminding herself that this was all part of learning how to survive. It didn't make her feel any less scared.

"Stay close," Dylan said so quietly she wasn't sure if she'd heard it or just saw his lips move, but she nodded and tightened her arms. You better believe it, buddy. So close.

Dylan put a finger to her chin and raised her head. "It's okay," he mouthed and turned to start his slow trek forward.

Skye silently scoffed. I hate to tell you this mister, but it is most certainly not okay. Nothing has been okay for a while now.

Skye matched her steps to Dylan's as he'd taught her to do, avoiding anything that crunched under their feet. Dylan continually scanned the ground and the surrounding woods as he walked searching for any clues as to what lay ahead of them.

Dylan knew his craft well. His skill was evident in every move he made, from the careful way he stepped his way through the ground cover to his ability to pick out almost microscopic traces of who or what was around them.

Skye studied him as he squatted down to peer closer to something she still couldn't see. His brow creased as he examined and felt the ground around it. She watched his muscles play along his arm and back as he reached out to explore the ground then push himself upright again.

His hair is to his shoulders now. I wonder if he would like a haircut. And those shoulders... and that…. Skye allowed her eyes to drift before she cut herself short. Stop! Why do I always start this at the worse times? But she knew why. Because when she saw Dylan in his element, he made her feel safe. And safe could be very, very sexy.

Dylan turned around and lifted an eyebrow at her.

Oh please, don't do that. That is just too -- distracting. Skye blushed and tried to look innocent before looking away. Dylan hissed, and Skye snapped to attention. He gestured fingers to eyes and outward.

Keep my eyes on the woods. I know, I know. Don't you be so enticing then. Skye turned another shade of red and nodded.

Seeing she was suitably contrite, Dylan continued on. This time Skye looked at everything but him, even pointing out a small broken branch and a bit of trampled grass, which earned her a look of approval.

* * *

Dylan's scouting gave him none of the answers he'd hoped for, only more questions. Were all the Sick ahead of them or were they stepping into the middle of a horde? They seemed to be ahead, but why? Why were such a large group here on top of their mountain? It would've been against their instinct to make such a hard climb. Those not in the full grip of the disease, the Infected, must be pushing them up here. But again, why?

Dylan shook out his tense shoulders hoping for once in his life, he was reading the signs all wrong. He shot a look at Skye. She'd done pretty good so far, but this could really rile her up.

A small sound came to him. Nothing Dylan could instantly identify but something foreign to the forest. He stopped abruptly and put his hand back to Skye in a protective gesture. It caught her around the arm, and she held it as Dylan slid his hand to her wrist. He pulled her down to crouch alongside him and put a finger to his lips.

Skye quickly agreed, her large eyes turning away from him. Her attention honed on the scene around them. Before letting go of her wrist, Dylan gave it a small stroke with his callused thumb. Dylan smirked when goosebumps raced up Skye's arm. You ain't the only one.

Dylan motioned for Skye to follow his example as he crept through the forest brush as low as he could. Branches scratched along their bare arms, and the briars picked at their clothing.

Dylan tipped his head. There was something. A murmur maybe but that seemed wrong.

Dylan motioned Skye to the ground, and laying flat as they could, they crawled the rest of the way. The sound grew louder. Dylan pulled back a layer of brush and grasses leaving a thin layer to look through.

A house sat in a small glen. At least thirty Sick surrounded the small cabin. Many stumbled aimlessly through the yard, others mindlessly followed them. It would have been odd enough to come across that many Sick gathered in one place up here on the mountain, but the scene continued to get more bizarre.

More were in the early stages of the disease and barely seemed ill at all. Those worked at chores one would expect of any homeowner, chopping wood, plucking vegetables, cleaning.

A large crack sounded from the opposite side of the forest from where Dylan and Skye were. It could have been the felling of a tree or simply a broken branch falling. The worst of the Sick stopped their aimless wandering and stared in that direction, their murmur becoming a loud rumble of discontent. Agitated, the sickest among them paced the best they were able with their stiff limbs. Some raised and lowered their arms in odd patterns.

Some of the healthier people grabbed what weapons they could, mostly gardening utensils, and stood watching the tree line while others tried to calm the Sick.

A thin cold finger played along Dylan's back as he scoured the area. These people weren't passing through. They were gathering.

Three

Home

Skye heaved a sigh of relief when the cabin door clicked shut behind her. Walking to the windows, she made sure they were locked before pulling all the curtains. Skye needed to forget about all the bad things outside even if only a thin piece of material kept them from her sight. The dread covering her since she and Dylan spotted the large group of Sick and Infected lifted slightly.

Nothing would erase the fact the Sick were out there no matter how many barriers she put between them and her. But for some reason, the darkened room made her feel better. Her heartbeat thumped a little less, and she pushed away the worry that there are so many of them practically on their doorstep.

After watching the Sick for a few minutes, she and Dylan had made their quiet way back to the truck. Dylan was quick to assure her the problem would be dealt with, but how she couldn't begin to imagine. Her immediate notion was to leave the cabin, as she had left her own home. But Skye couldn't see Dylan and Wade going along with that unless things got desperate.

Jesse had been awake and full of questions when they returned to the truck. Skye answered them the best she could without frightening him but doubted her strategy when instead of being scared he was excited about the idea of seeing one of the Sick.

Skye slumped back against the wall and watched Wade and Dylan set up the radio Tom had given them. The first thing they did was use it to reach Tom. Skye moved to stand behind the seated men as Jesse begged to use the radio too.

Dylan gave Jesse a sharp glance. "You'll get your turn. Right now, it's serious." Jesse sagged. Dylan ruffled his hair but held his ground.

Chipper at first, Tom got quiet as he digested the events on their return to the mountain.

"We got a couple problems," Dylan said. "The person outside your house followed us on up the mountain. We took care of him for now, but he's somewhere out there. It was the man you said you were going to check on. Thought you should know that."

"Okay, gotcha," Tom said, figuring rightly that Dylan's code meant Frankie and was for Jesse's sake. "How you doin Jesse?"

Jesse was as excited as a small puppy to have his turn and wanted to use the headset. Gingerly, he sat it on his head and held the sides to his ears as he spoke. Happy after exchanging a few words with Tom, he returned it to Dylan.

After Dylan explained the horde of Sick and Infected gathering on the mountain, Tom said, "I'll get some of the men together, and we'll be up there tomorrow morning. We'll clear them out."

Dylan agreed and said goodbye. But, not having answers didn't sit well with Skye. "How are you going to get them to go down the mountain? They aren't just going to go down the hill in an obedient single file."

Dylan chuckled and ran a hand over her shoulder. "Yeah, I know. We'll figure it out tomorrow. See what Tom has in mind."

Skye gave up getting answers and used her nervous energy to unpack. However, it didn't escape her notice that when the men completed their other chores, they started putting their weapons in good order. She knew they needed to prepare, but hoped at least some of the Infected could be talked down off the mountain. Surely those capable of it would realize they were a danger to others as their condition worsened. She hoped to get a chance to run it past Tom.

When he was done, Wade holstered one of his guns and put the others on a high shelf. He put his hands on his hips and turned to them. "I think I'm going to head on over to that farm Tricia suggested for some chickens, D, like we talked about. I have the makings for a pen. The neighbors are gettin thin on eggs to trade and ain't wantin to part with any chickens. I say it's about time we got our own."

"Wade! Really? Now?" Skye asked. "What if they come after you?"

"Chickens? Oh, I can handle 'em! I'm quite skilled in chicken warfare." Wade shook trying to control his laughter.

Skye crossed her arms and pursed her mouth as she stared at him. "You know what I mean."

"Don't worry, little lady. They ain't gonna come after me. From what you said the Sick and Infected are up here cause they want to be left alone. They ain't gonna start trouble."

Skye started to disagree but found herself arguing to his back as he walked out the door. Her eyebrows raised, she turned to Dylan. "Your brother!"

Dylan shrugged and continued cleaning his gun. "Wade knows what he's doing."

Skye let out an irritated groan and went to the kitchen to find something, anything to do. Why do I bother? Why do I even bother?

Dylan's gaze trailed Skye into the kitchen. He put his weapon down and went to her. "I know it’s hard, but we just gotta wait til morning to know what we're going to do for sure. Need to see how many men can make it up here and a few other things. As for Wade, well, you’re not gonna change his mind once he gets a thought. Best just let him do what he's gonna do. It's how he works out his nervous energy."

"It's just -- this is all just --" Skye stopped, shaking her head. "And I’m out of anxiety meds."

Jesse came over and wrapped his arms around her. "It's okay, Mom. We'll take care of ya."

Skye gave a nervous, little laugh and pushed back Jesse's hair, holding his face. "And here I am, thinking I'm supposed to take care of you."

About an hour later, the trio heard the squawk of chickens as Wade drove up. When they stepped outside, Wade stood by the truck a happy, and proud, smile on his face. After congratulating Wade on his find, they all worked at getting the chickens settled into their new home. The birds complained at first, then settled to pecking at the grass.

Dylan watched the new residents for a while before reaching in and taking one out of the pen. He stroked it a few times then walked away with it.

Skye called after him, "Where are you taking her?"

Dylan shrugged. "Figured she'd make a good dinner."

"What? No!" She crossed her arms.

"You never made a chicken? We'll show ya."

"Yes, I have made chicken, just not one that I know."

Dylan smirked. "You don't know this one either. It's a chicken." He waited a moment, but Skye still looked at him with wide offended eyes, so he offered another argument. "Sides, she's older, I doubt she's laying."

"Don't kill her. Can't we just let her, you know, retire or something?"

That earned Skye Dylan's Woman, Sometimes I Can't Believe What You Are Saying look. "No, she can't. Chickens don't retire. They work, or they die."

"That is a tough stance, couldn't we —“ Skye cast her gaze around as she thought, but Dylan didn't want to hear anymore.

"It's the middle of the dang apocalypse, and you want to let our food sources retire? No."

Skye looked to the ground, tears welling up in her eyes. She knew she sounded idiotic, but she wasn't ready for this today. Today had been full enough. Quickly she brushed the tears away. "Look, I know what you must think of me. And yes, my favorite kinds of meat were the unidentifiable skinless, boneless lumps. I know it isn't like that now. But today, with everything going on, could we just do this tomorrow, please?"

Dylan reached toward Skye until the chicken let out a squawk. He looked from it to her before returning the chicken to the enclosure and mumbling, "I guess you just got a reprieve from the governor."

Dylan came back to Skye's side. "Just to be clear though, this ain't gonna happen every time we want to eat chicken, right?"

Skye bumped her arm against his and offered a small laugh. "I hope not. I'm trying to toughen up. You wouldn't believe how I was before all this."

Dylan laughed. "Oh, yeah, I can believe it. You've come a long way since those red high heels and lattes, ignoring everything unless it bumped right into you. More'n I woulda thought." He winked at her. "While there's somethin to be said for the old Skye, I approve of the changes."

Skye giggled and looked down. "Still have a ways to go though, right?"

Wisely, Dylan said nothing.

Four

Promise Me

That evening Dylan and Wade instructed Skye and Jesse on how to secure the cabin against attack. Each of the windows were paired with a steel sheet that covered them quickly and easily. The doors contained bars with the ability to latch and secured them.

Wade banged on the front door. "This here is a steel door, it's just wood veneer. Ain't no one gettin in here easy."

Dylan lowered a ladder leading to the small, low attic. He hauled up cushions and food for Skye and Jesse, enough to last for a day. "You close up this cabin and stay up here tomorrow."

"Do you really think that will be necessary? The fight, if it comes to that, won't be near us." Skye scanned all the downstairs preparations. "Surely the downstairs will be safe enough."

Dylan gave Skye a sharp shake of his head. "It's close enough. We start stirrin them up, and we don't know what'll happen. Necessary or not, it'll make me feel better knowing you and the boy are up here. It's one more line of defense."

Dylan wrapped his hand around her upper arm. "Promise me you will stay up here."

"I will."

Dylan continued to stare at her as if willing her to understand the importance.

"I promise, Dylan. We'll stay up here."

His eyes narrowed. "And this is a promise you'll be keepin?"

Skye sighed a little, she was forced to admit she had only a so-so track record with him. "Yes, I will keep it."

Dylan nodded and let go of her. "Stay here, I have somethin else to show you."

When he raced down and came back with guns and ammo, Skye's expression showed her distaste.

Dylan barked out a sharp laugh. "Too bad, little woman, you're gonna have them ready. Load these in the morning and keep them ready."

Skye bit her lip but nodded. She took note as he showed her the lookouts where she could get a full view of the yard. She raised an eyebrow at Dylan. "Why do I feel you and Wade have had this cabin army-proofed for a long time?"

"Cause we have."

"Why?"

Dylan shrugged and grunted something she couldn't make out as he made his way back down the ladder.

* * *

The morning brought ten men, a cargo truck, and a plan up to the mountain. Dylan was the lookout and whistled. Skye came out to greet her cousin and to hand out some muffins she baked for everyone.

With a determined look on her face, Skye drew Tom aside. Tom listened and nodded. "I agree, Skye. I'm hoping for a peaceful resolution, but I have to warn you, I won't be surprised if there isn't."

"But you're going to try?"

"I'd already planned on it."

The clatter of weapons being checked and rechecked filled the morning air. Skye shook her head at Jesse as he went to each person asking to see their weapons. How was she going to give him a peaceful life in all this chaos? With his background, violence may be the first thing he turned to, and she wanted to change that. But the way the world was now, it would be a hard thing to do.

Tom waved Wade over and explained his plan. "It's fairly simple. We get those Sick into the box truck. I agree with Skye we try and get them to agree to it. But if they don't agree, we get them in it by any means necessary. We will start with the least aggressive and work our way up. I want this done legally, so I am deputizing all of you for the day. Let's gather everyone up. I'll run down the order of events in dealing with a group of disorderlies as it was taught to me."

"Where are ya takin them when we're done?" Wade asked.

"I got on the radio last night. There's a containment area for the Sick a couple towns over. They've got some of the military watching over it. Reckon it's the best place for them now."

"Okay then," Dylan said as he picked at his nails, "let's get this over with."

Tom handed out masks and gloves. "Seems a lot of us may be immune to this thing, but I'd rather not take any chances. Wear them in case this ends up in close quarters."

As the men piled back into the trucks, Skye and Jesse said goodbye to Dylan and Wade. Dylan watched Skye give a Wade a quick hug and scolded him to be careful, then she moved to him. Skye's concerned green eyes slowly lifted from his chest to his face. She wrapped a hand around his forearm. "Please promise me you will be careful."

"I promise, Skye."

Skye stepped close and reached her arms around him. She hugged him and laid her head against his chest. Dylan could almost swear his heart skipped a beat. But without a doubt, it began to ache. When she started to pull away, he refused to let her.

Not yet.

Dylan tightened his arms, avoiding her bruising from her encounter with Calvin. He gazed down at the top of her head. Dylan stayed that way until he heard the banging of car doors closing as the men entered the vehicles. Then whether Dylan was ready or not, it was time to go.

He released Skye but took a minute to lift her chin and repeat his promise, "I will."

Dylan cleared his throat a couple times and glanced from Skye to Jesse. "Now you both get in there. I want this house locked up before I leave."

Skye and Jesse entered the cabin and secured the door before Wade and Dylan moved. When they knew the woman and boy were as safe as they could be, the men got in Dylan's truck and followed the caravan out of the clearing and onto the road.

Dylan clenched his jaw as he watched the little cabin get smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. He hated the sick feeling in his stomach as he left them behind.

Five

Weston

Dylan's hands gripped and twisted the smooth leather steering wheel as he forced his mind to shift from Skye to the task at hand. There was no place for distracting thoughts when a man prepared for battle. Staying sharp was the key to survival.

When the men reached the small path leading to the Sick, they parked their vehicles and jumped out, feet pounding the dirt road. Silently, they strapped their weapons to their bodies. There was no need for words. The plan made, it was time for action.

Dylan laid his crossbow on his back and looked over his rifle one more time. He planned to be prepared for anything. He and Wade were, in fact, the most outfitted men there. They each carried their bows, two guns, knives and a few little surprises Tom didn't know about in case something went awry. No way we ain’t getting back home today.

Dylan, Wade, and Tom took point as the group prowled through the forest. Dylan indicated the way to the men fanned out around them. The group moved as quickly and quietly as they were able, though Dylan thought they sounded as loud as a bunch of zoo animals and hoped the Sick's hearing wasn't up to par. Still, he couldn't help exchanging a look and a grimace with Wade after some loud rustling and snaps of branches.

When Tom’s men reached the little green glen the house stood in, they all stopped as Dylan pointed out the surroundings to Tom. The sheriff signaled the men to spread out along the dense tree line and to stay hidden. Then he stepped out into the opening.

Tom's chest heaved with several deep breaths. The sunlight caught on the badge he wore pinned to his sheriff's uniform. He cleared his throat to speak. Before he did, the Sick spotted him.

Like yesterday, the Sick meandered through the yard. Those less affected by the disease did chores. All of them stopped when they spotted the sheriff.

One of the Sick, confused and angry, lumbered toward Tom. An Infected grabbed the Sick’s arm to still him as he lowered the garden hoe he'd been using on the vegetables to the ground. He stepped forward, indicating he was the leader.

"We're all sick here, but we're not hurtin anyone," he said, his manner slow and earnest. "We stick to ourselves."

Tom tipped his head in acknowledgment. "My name's Tom. I'm the sheriff of Colton. What's yours?"

"Weston."

"Well, Weston. I'm sorry to say we need to have a conversation about what's going on up here."

Weston frowned and crossed his arms. "Like I said, we aren't hurtin anyone, and we stop the bad ones from roaming."

"That may be true at the moment, but there are people with kids on this mountain. Their families have kept them away from this disease in the hope they'll survive this. What happens if one of your Sick gets away from you? What happens when you're all as ill as they are? Who will stop the roaming then? If those families get this illness, if one of those kids do, it's on you."

Weston looked down and shook his head, but he couldn't give a acceptable answer to Tom’s question. "We'll move on down the mountain when it comes to that."

Tom sighed and rubbed his cheek. "That isn't good enough. There isn't rhythm or reason to this disease. You could all wake up tomorrow more ill than you are now."

Weston looked out over his group, then the ground and scuffed his feet before looking back at Tom. "What are you thinkin?"

Tom pointed toward the road. "I have a truck. I'm hopin you all agree to get inside. There's an area set aside for the Sick a couple towns over. We'll take you there."

A grumble went out among Weston's more coherent people. "That won't work. Some escaped from there. They say it isn't a good place to be." Weston thought for a moment. "Take us to a deserted town."

Tom exchanged a glance with Dylan. "I feel for these people," he murmured, "I really do. It's the first time I've come across any trying to do the right thing."

Dylan nodded, his heart weighing heavy as he looked as the Sick and Infected.

Tom turned back to Weston. "I wish that would work, Weston, I really do, but there are pockets of survivors all through these hills. Taking you to a town may help us, but it may kill others. I can't do that. You need to go to the containment area."

The crowd's murmur grew louder. Many of the Infected began to pace back and forth across the grass, their faces red with anger. The Sick picked up on their emotion, and rage started to stir in them.

Tom eyed Weston’s people and kept his voice calm. "We don't want to upset you, but you know firsthand what this disease is, what it does. You can't want that for others when it can be avoided. See it from our side. Look at the chance we'd be taking if we just walked away."

Weston's voice took on a hard edge. "And we won't go to the containment camp. We'll fight before we do that. We'll fight, and you'll die. You'll die right here."

Tom shook his head. "I didn't want it to come to this. I didn't come alone. If we fight, it isn't me who will die."

Weston was resigned to his fate, and it showed in his next words. "We're dyin anyway. You'd be doing us a favor. This disease --" He spit on the ground. "It's the most ungodly, revolting thing there is. We're wastin away and wastin away in that camp would just be more gruesome." Weston sighed. "We only wanted a little time. A little time to live decent, while we could."

Tom scanned the group and rubbed his chest. He glanced at Dylan. "This could been us, D. It could be Tricia trying to get what little joy life has left for her, counting down the years in minutes." He shook his head, then yelled out to Weston. "We're not just gonna shoot you down. Let’s talk this out."

Weston barked a bitter laugh. "I lost everything that made this life worth livin a long time ago. My wife and my children to this sickness almost the day it started. My farm and house to frightened townspeople thinking they could keep the disease away. Fighting wasn't an option then, wouldn't have helped if I tried. Now you come in here attempting to take this small piece of ground we worked so hard to find. This time, I'm ready. You ain't gonna just shoot us down, I wouldn't let you if you tried. That's the thing about us humans, we fight to the bitter end no matter how bitter it is. No, we're going to make this a party. We might be dyin, but we're taking some of with us."

A roar went up among Weston's people. They moved for small weapons hidden around the camp.

Dylan shook his head. Tom did all he could to talk them in, and they weren't having it. Dylan watched as the Sick and Infected cheered themselves on and felt his stomach tighten. Planting his feet, he raised his rifle to his shoulder. This was going exactly as he'd thought it would.

Six

Get This Done

Tom threw up his arms. "Wait!"

"There ain't nothing to wait for!" Weston replied as he raised his hand. Flinging it down, he shouted, "Shoot!"

Tom dove for cover, landing at Dylan's feet, as Dylan ducked the onslaught of bullets.

Tom's orders had been clear. The horde couldn't have much ammo. The deputies would wait them out, let them waste their bullets, then go scoop them up. Chaos erupted as the horde's shots blasted the trees, bushes, and ground around Tom's men. Dirt kicked up from the bare ground. Small twigs and leaves hailed down on them from above.

Dylan flinched and went cold when something hit his arm. He snorted. A small rock was embedded in his arm. He flicked it out and took up his weapon again.

Tom's men backed away from the volley of bullets, taking shelter just outside the horde's range. Once Weston's group realized their strategy wasn't working, the racket subsided.

"Fight us!" Weston bellowed.

Tom gestured for his men to stay steady and low.

"Fight us!"

Tom called out to him. "We don't want to fight you! We want a peaceful resolution to this. Let's work this out."

"I told you what was gonna happen here today. You can come out and face us or hide in those bushes, but it's happenin. Without a doubt, it's happenin."

Tom scrubbed a hand over his face. "He's not leaving me much choice here," he murmured, "and they need to be taken care of, one way or another." Tom squared his shoulders and gestured toward the house. His men sent a volley of their own.

Tom's men avoided hurting anyone. This was a show of strength, not a slaughter. Tom hoped they would see he had the superior firepower and co-operate. Still, their shots broke windows and splintered siding. Bullets sheared garden plants and exploded the ground around the horde.

Most Infected ducked and ran, taking shelter on the far side of the house and leaving the disoriented Sick screaming and vulnerable to attack.

Tom gave the order to stop firing. Once it was quiet, he shouted, "Like I said, I have others with me."

The horde stayed hidden, their angry voices disagreeing over their next move.

Dylan crouched, leaning back against a tree trunk, Wade at his side. "Now we wait," Wade said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. While Dylan could and would do what was necessary, it was Wade who found the most enjoyment in confrontation. Dylan had it in him to enjoy violence but hated that part of his personality. He reminded himself he was here for Skye and Jesse and the others on the mountain -- for a purpose. Dylan hadn't had that before. He did now. Instead of relishing the battle, he would wait and savor a victory.

Wade nudged him. "Come on, bro!" He wanted to see a matching light in his brother's eyes.

"I wanna get this done, for them -- all of them."

Wade agreed. He set his jaw. "Oh, we will."

While Tom's men waited, the horde got impatient. Every so often they would send a small volley toward the men, but Tom's group let it pass without returning fire.

Until the bullets came from in front and behind them.

Dylan and Wade dropped to one knee, twisting around to find the new source of firepower. A long line of the enemy crept among the trees behind Tom's people attempting to corral them. The middle of the line contained the most normal of the Infected holding their best weapons. Each end included the sickest of the group. Frantic from the noise of the guns, the lumbering Sick had been tied together to keep them in place.

Dylan hissed. It was a brilliant plan, they used the Sick as weapons.

Dylan's noise caught Tom and Wade's attention. Dylan pointed out the enemy. The situation had just become more complicated, and Tom needed to make a decision.

Tom eyed the army in front and behind his own. "I'm reluctant to split our people --"

Dylan watched Tom's thoughts play along his face with the familiarity known only to childhood friends. He knew the decision Tom made even before it cemented in his friend's mind. He slipped a weapon into Tom's hand and waved to Wade and a few others to follow him, leaving Tom and the rest to the group in the woods.

Dylan and the men who followed him weaved across the small, grassy glen, using what little cover was available. The horde behind the house fired on them. Someone grunted in pain, but Dylan wasn't sure who as no one stopped.

Once Dylan's people made it to the house, they slapped their backs against the rough siding, holding their guns ready. Tom wanted this done with as little bloodshed as possible. Deputized or no, Dylan felt the same way.

These people were in an impossible situation, one he could possibly be in one day. The thought made him merciful, but the bullets firing around him tempered that compassion. One almost caught Dylan as he peered around the edge of the wall. He huffed. You ain't stoppin us from getting home tonight.

Dylan's gaze flicked to the battle raging in the woods, hoping that Tom was winning, then stilled when stealthy steps came around the side of the house. The Infected were making a move. Quickly, he did a mental inventory of his weapons, deciding on a course of action.

Out of his pocket, he pulled a flash-bang and showed it to Wade. If they caught a break, these would work well to stun Weston's army as the diseased were sensitive to light and sound.

Before Dylan got into position, two bold Infected ran down the side of the house firing their weapons. Wade and another of the men moved to the corner of the building, waiting at the edge for the Infected to reach it. Dylan moved behind them while gesturing for the others to take the opposite corner.

Cool and calm, Wade crouched, his finger ready on the trigger. The enemy was messy and disorganized in their approach. Dylan's men waited, letting them come. The Infected rounded the corner, their guns raised.

Wade fired, and the Infected fell, their own shots going wild. Knowing their wounds were unlikely to be fatal, Wade took their guns from them and zip-tied their wrists as they moaned and thrashed on the ground.

Dylan wasted no time in stepping out around them. He threw a flash-bang to the other side of the house where the remaining Sick and Infected were. Then he stepped back using the house for cover as he waited for the explosion.

When it came, the horde roared their confusion and ran out from behind the wall. Dylan and his men took advantage of the chaos and rushed the disoriented people.

Dylan grinned at his brother as they got this horde under control. Wade and a couple others shoved the lurching, dirty Sick into the house. They could deal with them later. Dylan stationed men around the near-normal Infected, guns pointing directly at them. For all their fierce talk of fighting to the end, most became resigned to their fate and allowed their hands to be tied.

But the fight still burned within a few. And when Dylan turned to survey the situation, he saw Weston almost upon him.

Seven

Flash Bang

Tom had been surprised Dylan read him so well. He hadn't known his friend could do that. And thrilled by what he'd left behind.

Gotta love that guy. He looked down at the two flash-bangs in his hand.

Where Dylan picked up the stun grenade was of no consequence to Tom. Now that he had them, he was going to use them.

The battle raged at the house, but Tom kept his mind on his own war. He needed to believe Dylan and Wade had theirs in hand, it was the only way Tom would get through this one.

Sweat ran down his body and nausea threatened as he fought the Sick, first with weapons then hand to hand. He tried to keep Weston's army at firing distance, but it hadn't worked. They were upon them

The Infected Tom fought hand-to-hand was tough, but Tom was finally getting the upper hand. The man's iron grip on Tom's neck caused the sheriff to gasp for breath. If Tom didn't do something soon, he would pass out.

Taking the Infected's head in both his hands, Tom banged it against the ground until the man released the vicious hold he had on Tom. Then taking advantage of his upper hand, Tom quickly zip-tied his wrists and ankles.

Tom stood and looked for his next target only to find that he was the target. Tom's stomach tightened. Three Sick held guns on him and his men. Most of the sheriff's army came to a standstill as they eyed him for direction.

"Weapons down, hands up!" said the Infected taking the lead.

Dylan's explosion near the house startled everyone. Tom took advantage of the distraction. Drawing the flash-bang from his pocket, the sheriff released the pin and threw it directly at the gunmen.

"Duck!" he said to his own men as he crouched, covering his ears and squeezing his eyes shut.

Once the brilliant flash receded, Tom's men rushed the Infected and quickly subdued them. After gathering up the few roped Sick still staggering the woods, Tom looked over at the house and glen.

Dylan's men had a large group of the Sick surrounded, but some were still resisting. Tom's heart sank as he watched Weston ambush Dylan.

Eight

Getting Home

There was almost no time before Weston was upon him. Dylan steadied himself. Still, the smack of Weston's body slamming into his and the blow as Dylan hit the ground was a shock. Air burst from his lungs and refused to return. His heart beat against his eardrums, the one sound Dylan heard as he struggled to breathe. Only sheer force of will enabled him to choke in any air at all.

Weston rained blows on the stunned Dylan. But instead of ending in his defeat, it fueled Dylan’s fight. Gasping and coughing, Dylan threw punches of his own.

Weston's refusal to give in stirred others within his beaten group. More than one of those subdued began to fight again. Dylan's men had a hard time containing the horde. More than one man now had the enemy on him. The tables seemed to have turned again.

A shot rang out, and one of Dylan's men screamed and crumbled.

Dylan's guard lowered for a second, long enough for Weston to grab a knife from his belt and raise it over him. Dylan's straining arms shook as he struggled to stop the knife's downward trek toward his heart.

His world became small. There was only this man, this knife, this moment.

Dylan slammed him in the side with a knee. Weston yelled. It had the desired effect, Dylan rolled the two of them.

Weston pulled his knife back, causing Dylan to lurch forward. He put a hand to Dylan's shoulder and lowered his blade, aiming for his side.

Dylan saw the weapon but had little time to react. He arched his body away from Weston's knife but not enough to avoid its cut.

He hissed as the knife drove through his skin and into the muscles below. Pain ran red through his mind. He shoved the agony away, sticking to the task at hand, the only useful lessons his father's abuse ever taught him.

Smashing his fist into Weston's face, he dazed him. Dylan ground his teeth, as inch by inch, the blade slid out of him like a fire-hot branding iron.

Dylan smashed the man's knife hand against the ground, again and again, watching his own blood fly from the blade onto the grass with each blow. Finally, Weston cried out, dropping the knife.

With shaking hands, Dylan zip-tied Weston's wrists and ankles before pushing himself upright, only to hit the dirt again as someone slammed him from behind.

Dylan's strength waned. The world spun as he struggled to turn in the man's grasp.

The Infected man used only his fists, but they were enough. Seeing Dylan's bloody side, he aimed for this vulnerable spot. He hammered the knife wound with his tightly clenched fists.

Dylan gasped in pain, his body instinctively wrapping itself around his injury. He worked at two things only, slowing the man down where he could and fighting for whatever breath he could drag in over the painful torment. He knew he wouldn't last long.

Dylan had never been bested in a fight, and he did everything in his power not to lose this one. He continued to twist and punch. Occasionally, he landed a solid strike, but nothing stopped the man.

Blood soaked Dylan's side, his skin torn and battered. After one particularly harsh blow, Dylan let out an anguished, pain-filled yell.

Gasping and heaving, the world turning dark, Dylan had seconds before he lost consciousness. He clawed the ground for a weapon, any weapon. His desperate mind sped through his options, and he remembered one last item. Dylan reached into his pocket and yanked out a flash-bang. Taking a final punch, Dylan pulled the pin before rolling the stun grenade. It stopped dangerously close to himself and his attacker.

Dylan put his hands to his ears, closed his eyes, and turned his head away as best he could from the blast.

The infected man stopped and started to stand, but it was too late. The light and sound caught the man full in the face. He fell to the ground, temporarily blind and deaf.

His own fight over, Wade rushed to Dylan's side. "Bro, I heard ya, but I couldn't get away." His sympathetic face scanned Dylan's bruised, bleeding body. "You got it bad."

He must look rough because Wade wasn't looking so good himself. "Help me up.” Dylan grunted out the words.

Wade frowned. "I don't know, man, I think ya should stay down."

"No, I want up."

Dylan slung his arm over Wade's shoulder, and his brother slowly raised him from the ground. As he straightened, he let out another pained shout.

Wade shot Dylan a sharp glance. In all his life, Dylan had never cried out like that, not in all their rough adventures nor in all their father's abuse. Wade often screamed his rage or cried his pain, but Dylan learned long ago not to verbalize his suffering.

Tears ran down the faces of both the men. Dylan from his agony. Wade for his brother.

"See, it's over, D."

As Dylan swayed against Wade taking in Tom and his group as they rounded up the Infected and Sick. Dylan's vision darkened, but he relaxed. Everything was in hand now.

Relief slackened his broken body even more, and Wade struggled to hold him upright. Dylan held a hand to his raw, tortured side as darkness overcame him. He fell again, but this time his brother softened the blow.

His face drawn in pain, a tiny smile curved the left side of his mouth as one last thought passed through his mind before he blacked out.

We're gettin home tonight.

Nine

Quarantine

Skye sat on the living room couch and watched the sun break through the clouds for the first time in a long while and smiled. She listened in on Dylan and Jesse's conversation as their low voices discussed their current model car construction over their morning coffee. Wade banged skillets onto the stovetop as he prepared to make breakfast. She glanced at him and held back a soft laugh. Wade was so noisy in the kitchen, Skye was sure he felt it a requirement.

Days had passed since the battle. Time she and Jesse had struggled on their own as the men remained in quarantine after the fight. The protective gear Tom handed out before the fight hadn’t been used. Though most of them had either been through the AgFlu or thought they were immune, no one wanted to risk their families after the close interaction they'd had with the Sick.

When Skye had gotten word about Dylan's injuries, she raced to the old, deserted cottage used as a quarantine center, but Wade refused to let her in. One mention of Jesse and she backed down. Skye wouldn't endanger him anymore than the men would.

So instead, she'd paced outside the cabin until Wade yelled out they had Dylan patched up as best they could, and he was resting. After that, she took the lead in gathering food, blankets, and other necessities for the men staying at the old place.

After setting cleaning supplies by the front door, Skye stepped back and waited for Wade to open it. "Please Wade, make sure you give the cabin a thorough washing. Especially wherever Dylan and the other injured men will be."

"It ain't that bad in here, I was kinda surprised," Wade said, looking around behind him.

Concern covered Skye's face. "It's been deserted for who knows how long. Animals may have been in there, mold, lots of things that could cause problems."

"Yeah, I'm just sayin --"

"Just say you'll clean it!"

Wade couldn't ignore the panic on Skye's face. "I don't know about these other guys, but ya know we keep a good house. It'll be nice and germ-free."

Skye's tension eased a bit. "Yes, I know you do. I'm sorry. It's just, no one really knows how to care for him."

All the men had returned from the fight, but there had been injuries. Two of them were shot. One a flesh wound, but the other more serious, and no one was sure of the extent of Dylan's wounds. But they patched them all up as best they could. Without a doctor, they all hoped what they did was sufficient. And whether it was his body healing or his sheer stubbornness, to Skye's horror, Dylan was up and moving the next day.

As many of the families did, Skye and Jesse made it a habit to take dinner for Dylan and Wade to their cabin if the weather was good. Skye and Jesse would sit in the yard, close but not too close, and the men would sit near an open window to talk to each other.

A couple of days after the battle, Skye spread a blanket out on the grass for her and Jesse and settled to eat.

She couldn't help but wince at the deep bruising on both the men. "How are you both feeling?"

"Feelin spry enough," Wade said. "Me and Dylan were thinkin on running some sprints today."

Skye playfully rolled her eyes at him. "You'd better not. I want you both healthy and hearty as quickly as possible." She looked at Dylan. "Tricia's been using the radio to find a doctor, but she hasn't had any success yet. But she hasn't given up."

"I'm fine, Skye," Dylan said. "She doesn't need to be wastin her time like that. I'm just sorry we're stuck in here. It can't be easy on you by yourself."

"Hey!" Jesse said, "She ain't by herself!"

Skye ruffled Jesse's hair and smiled. "That’s right, Dylan, I'm not by myself. We are both quite capable. Don't worry. We are doing fine too."

Dylan grunted as he eyed her, trying to discern her truthfulness. "How'd it go when we were fightin? Did any show up at the cabin?"

"Nope." Skye shook her head. "It was quiet as can be. We stayed tucked up in the attic, kept a lookout as we played games and watched some shows I downloaded before this all started. It was as peaceful as a spa day."

Dylan gave Skye a lopsided smile. "I got no idea what a spa day is like, and I'm sure I don't want to know. But seems it went good. More'n a little surprised, but happy, you listened to me."

Skye made a face at Dylan. What she didn't tell him was the deep-seated fear she'd carried all that day. How she and Jesse jumped and ran to the lookouts, not only every half-hour as instructed, but with every small bump and scratch they heard. But in the long run, the most exciting thing that happened that day was Skye winning her first game of Jenga against Jesse.

Sure she was developing a skill for the game, she insisted they continue to play even as she lost every succeeding match to the boy. Finally, Skye gave up and broke out old episodes of Stranger Things she downloaded before the AgFlu began. They used their precious daily allowance of electricity watching monsters as they chewed their fingernails over the real monsters Wade and Dylan fought. It hadn't been a peaceful day at all.

After a couple of hours, Dylan and Wade encouraged Skye and Jesse to go home. Though the brothers were happy to spend time with them, they said it troubled them Skye and Jesse traveled on their own. When Skye finally relented, Wade followed them in his vehicle to make sure they made it back safely.

The routines established the first few days of the quarantine had continued until the day they came home.

Skye bit the inside of her cheek as she glanced at Dylan for the hundredth time this morning. He raised his coffee cup to his generous lips and took a sip. The steam rose against his rugged face. The light bruising remaining around his eyes brought out the blue in them. He squinted, just a bit, as he sipped the hot liquid.

Her gaze lingered on his neck as he swallowed, his Adam's apple raising and lowering with the action. Dylan's black hair was almost to his shoulders. Skye stared at it, sure it teased her, daring her to reach out and run her fingers through it.

Her eyes traveled to his side. He favored it, though he tried not to show it. When he thought no one was looking, his hand often strayed to his wound, as it did now. He hadn't stayed quiet long enough.

Dylan put down his coffee and looked at her. He caught her eye, a grin at the corner of his mouth. He knows, he always knows when I'm looking at him.

She returned his look for a moment before turning her attention to an excited Jesse, who jabbered about their project.

It was yesterday the self-imposed quarantine lifted, and the men came home. No more sleepless nights for Skye as she tried to watch over Jesse and endless days doing three people's jobs. Jesse had more than pulled his weight, but he couldn't replace two grown men. And though Skye proved to herself she and Jesse could survive on their own, it was a far less comfortable life.

More than that, she had missed Dylan and Wade. Their physical presence changed the house, giving the home back the energy it lacked without them. Once their brawny bodies filled the doorway and a 'hello' was uttered in their masculine voices everything seemed back to normal.

Their reunion was emotional. The family had been apart too long. It took an unexpected turn for Skye when her gaze met and locked with Dylan's fiery one, igniting a matching blaze in her eyes. It took everything she had to drag herself away from him and welcome Wade too.

Last evening, more often than not, when her eyes strayed to Dylan, he was already looking at her. Now, once again, she dragged her gaze from his and stared out the window.

Something's starting. It's been starting, and I've just been trying to ignore it. We aren't ready for this. We have too much baggage to get through yet. And too much danger at every turn to be thinking of anything else right now.

Her mind flew through every lousy romance scenario that existed, ending with her and Jesse homeless and hungry surrounded by the Sick. She scolded herself, even if everything ended badly, Dylan would never throw them out.

But it could still ruin so much. Skye bit the inside of her cheek as she sent a sly glance Dylan's way. The separation had increased their chemistry. It worried her. Skye loved this little family. She'd lost her own flesh and blood, these people were how she filled the empty void.

She rolled her eyes at herself. All this emotional back and forth of hers was getting crazy. So, yeah, things needed to get back to normal.

Skye blew out a long sigh, causing tendrils of hair to dance around her face. A bluebird flew onto the porch and sang in a sunbeam lighting up the front of the house.

She and Dylan could use a distraction, and she had just the thing on this beautiful, warm day. "How about a picnic?"

Ten

A Fine Idea

Jesse's face lit up at the mention of a picnic, and though breakfast hadn't begun, he immediately listed what he wanted for lunch.

Wade flipped another pancake, tossing it from the pan to the air, then waited for it to land. "That sounds like a great day to me!"

Turning to Dylan, Skye asked, "What about the cliff that overlooks Colton? Is that a good place for a picnic?"

Dylan hesitated then wrapped both of his hands around his hot mug of coffee. "Huh, yeah, should be okay."

Skye’s forehead creased. Dylan seemed reluctant. But before she could question him, Wade distracted her.

"It's a fine idea!" Wade said, "I'm hungry. Can't wait to get there."

Skye breathed in the light, sweet smell of the pancakes and laughed at Wade's foolishness. "You haven't even finished breakfast yet!"

“When it comes to food, I’m always thinking ahead. By the time we get there, I know I’ll be hungry as a springtime momma bear!” Wade mimed a loud, ridiculous starving bear, which started everyone laughing. None as much as Jesse, who fell to the floor in exaggerated amusement.

After breakfast, the four of them walked the trail to the overlook. Skye had loaded a backpack carrying all the requested food. Before they were out the door, Wade grabbed up the pack and ran off a little way as if stealing it. Jesse raced after him.

"There better still be food in that backpack when we get there!" Skye laughingly called out after them.

Skye sped up to Dylan, and he matched his steps to hers. She looked up at him. “Do we need to worry about the Sick up here?”

Dylan frowned and shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’s usually clear of them. I walked it every day. There’s fewer of ‘em up here now, and it’s unlikely they’d climb up even a small mountain to the top.” He thought for a moment. “Unless we have more of the Infected pushing them up here, the only thing you’ll see is a view of Colton.”

The conversation changed to how the neighbors fared when Wade joined the discussion. He’d taken up Dylan’s rounds while his brother recuperated. Skye and Dylan eagerly listened to Wade’s update.

Jesse sprinted here and there on the path. Skye called out to him, worried he was getting too far away. Jesse's shoulders slumped, and he sighed, but he moved closer to the group.

The sun filtered through the trees, warming them as they strolled through the forest. The tree line broke, opening to a thinly grassed clearing. Skye walked the rocky ground to the natural overlook and sent Dylan a questioning glance. “It seems quiet. Do you think Tom and Tricia are doing okay?”

“Yep, looks good.” Dylan pointed out the sheriff’s house.

“It’s so tiny, how can you tell?” Skye squinted her right eye, then her left as she tried to make out the correct house. “Man, you must have good eyes!”

Jesse zig-zagged around the clearing with no particular destination. “Hey, look at the clouds! They are the puffy ones ya like, Skye likes clouds. She likes trees too. Her favorite plant is a tree. Isn’t that weird?”

Skye laughed. "I don't know it is weird, it's just different from you."

"Yeah, me, and every other person. Who likes trees?" Jesse dragged out the word as he rolled his eyes. "You're a girl. You should like flowers."

“I do like flowers, just about every one I’ve ever met. But you asked me my favorite plant, and it is trees.”

“Yeah, and not only one — every kind. What does that say about ya? Huh?” Jesse stood with his hand on his chin as he played therapist.

“It says I like trees.” Skye raced after him, reaching out to tickle him. He giggled and ran away, darting this way and that trying to outrun her longer strides. But Jesse didn’t succeed, Skye was a fast runner.

She came up behind him and pulled them both down to the ground. Jesse kicked and laughed as he went down, letting out a couple of squeals. Skye relented, and the boy got himself under control. When she patted him on the head and let him go, he was soon distracted by some bugs in the grass.

Wade walked up to Skye. “That boy is gonna be all right with you as his mom.” His tone made it clear he admired the bond between her and Jesse. “If Dylan and me woulda had that, well, let’s just say, things would’ve been different, is all.”

“You’re doing okay, Wade,” Skye reassured him.

“Well, we’ve had our ups and down, but we’re doin okay now. Maybe you’re helpin us out too, Doc.”

Skye chuckled. “Doc. It seems so strange to hear that now. It’s hardly been a couple of months, but it seems so long ago.”

“People really called you Doc?” Dylan asked. To him, she had always been Skye.

Skye spread out a blanket she packed. The men threw questioning looks at each other and shrugged before awkwardly helping her.

Straightening it to her satisfaction, Skye continued, “Well, my receptionist did. And the kids did and the kid’s parents. So yeah, they did.” She pursed her lips. “Well, that’s what I was.”

Dylan reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “What you are.”

Skye settled herself on the blanket. “I’m not sure what I am anymore. You can’t do much good as a therapist if you don’t have any patients.”

Jesse, seeing the promise of food, came running up and caught the conversation. “I’m still your patient, even if I call ya mom now. I’m still plenty messed up. You have to fix me.” He plopped onto the blanket beside Skye, nonchalantly reaching for the bag of chips.

Eyes tearing up, Skye reached out to the boy. “Jesse—“

Wade gave a low chuckle. “Can’t get much more messed up than us three. It seems like ya have plenty of patients around here. We’ll keep you busy for a while.” He scratched his cheek. “Not sure you're gonna get rich tendin us though.”

Skye found it sad but amusing they volunteered themselves. "Fortunately, I'm not looking for riches. I want good old-fashioned food, clothing, and shelter, of which you have an abundance. Oh, and your sharp survival instincts of which I'm seriously lacking. Not a single dime needs to change hands."

"Well, that's good," Dylan said, "Cause I'd be seriously hard-pressed to find me a dime."

Eleven

The Picnic

After lunch, Dylan and Wade lounged on the blanket, it seemed a blanket wasn't such a bad idea. But Jesse, unable to stay still for long, explored.

Skye sat, cross-legged, on the edge of the blanket as she side-eyed the men. I seriously need to bring two next time.

She turned her attention to the gorgeous view in front of her. The overlook's sizeable grassy field dropped away as one neared its edge. Below that, raw rocky soil formed cracks and fissures down the face of the small mountain.

Skye's gaze roamed over the quiet town below, as well as, the low mountains stretching as far as she could see in either direction. Water burbled to the right, and she told herself to ask Dylan how large the river was when she woke up. Right now, Skye wanted a little nap.

Skye lightly pushed at Dylan so he would give her enough room to lie down. The sun warmed her cheeks as she stretched out, and the wind gently brushed across her.

A bird called from above, and Skye squinted up. There were two. She turned to ask Dylan what kind they were.

Jesse noticed the birds too. His face tipped to the sky as he backed up, keeping them in sight. Skye opened her mouth to call him closer to her. He was too close to the edge for her comfort.

Wide-eyed, Jesse stared at the dirt at his feet. Sheer terror covered his face as he threw out his arms.

He disappeared in a small upward blast of powdered soil.

A bolt of white shock ripped through Skye. She tore at the ground, pushing off it into a run. She gasped and screamed as she ran.

"Jesse! Jesse! Oh, my God, please no, no, no!"

Then she screamed for Dylan.

* * *

Somewhere in the comfortable haze of Dylan’s light doze, something shifted. Even before Skye moved and uttered her first shrill scream, he had stirred.

He and Wade went from resting to sprinting so quick it was barely perceivable. They communicated without a word as they raced to the edge. A nod from Dylan meant Wade needed to keep Skye from seeing what could be over the side.

Skye was almost to the brink. And at the speed she flew, Dylan questioned her ability to keep from plunging over herself. He reached to grab her arm just as Wade caught her around the waist and threw himself backward.

Desperate and angry, Skye fought for her freedom as she screamed Jesse's name.

Wade held Skye tight as Dylan picked his way across the shaky ground. Dylan lay flat and peered over the edge. He desperately wanted the boy to be okay, by some miracle. But he knew this mountain, this cliff. The odds of that were slim to none.

* * *

Skye realized what the men feared, and it fueled her terror. She could not get control of herself. One piece of her fought and screamed. Another part, the doctor part, told her all the reasons she had to calm down. But it wasn't working.

Dylan's voice, hard and sharp as the crack of a whip, cut through her turbulent thoughts. "Skye, stop!" It's what she needed. She quieted to a soft sobbing.

"He's there. Hanging on."

Ears still ringing from her own screams, she wasn't sure she heard correctly until Jesse's voice echoed up to them. "Mommy?" Her hands went to her mouth, and her wide, scared eyes flew to Dylan.

Dylan kept his voice gentle. "You ain't comin over here if you can't control yourself. I can't worry about you too.”

"Yes, yes. I understand." Skye pushed at Wade's arms.

"Skye, crawl low and slow. Ya got it?" Dylan stared, taking in her wild expression. “Skye.”

"I will. I understand. I'll be good. I promise." Skye would have agreed with anything to get to that edge.

Wade released her when Dylan nodded at him. With great care, Skye made her way to the rim as Dylan called down to Jesse.

Skye's stomach rolled when she peered over the edge. It was a long drop. There was no way one small ten-year-old boy would survive it.

Jesse clung to a protruding rock about ten feet below, arms wrapped tight around the stone. His fingers clawed the only solid thing available, but his feet dangled over air.

Skye whimpered.

"Steady." Dylan grabbed Skye's hand, squeezing it hard. It told her all she needed to know about his nerves.

Dylan looked at Wade and blew out a breath. Then said to Skye, "I am gonna need your help. You'll be okay?"

She squared her shoulders."Yes, just tell me what to do.”

"Okay. Wade and I are gonna lower to that ledge. We should be able to reach him from there. I think it'll hold. But if it doesn't, you know what you gotta do."

Skye's eyes filled as she shook her head. "Don't talk like that. Not now."

Dylan put a hand under her chin. His voice insistent. "Yes, now. You get in that Jeep, and you don't stop til you're at Tom's."

Skye raised a trembling hand to brush away a tear and nodded. "Okay, I will. I'll get help."

Dylan heaved a sigh. "If that shelf doesn't hold, we won't be here for anyone to help. I gotta know you'll be safe, that you'll go straight to Tom."

A sob escaped Skye. She scrubbed her eyes, she knew what Dylan needed to hear. "I will. I'll go straight there."

Skye grabbed Dylan's hand and searched his face. "Dylan? It'll be fine. Everything will be fine. Now go save our boy."

"Okay, lay here. We may need to pass Jesse up to you."

"Mommy?" Jesse’s sob echoed from below.

He was so small, so frightened. Skye squeezed her eyes shut and attempted to control her cold, trembling body. Finally, trusting her voice to sound strong for the boy, Skye called out. "Jesse, it's okay, baby. Hang on, they're coming. Dylan and Wade are coming to get you."

"Okay." His tiny, shaking voice trailed off.

The men talked to Jesse in a calm tone as they lowered themselves over the edge, telling Jesse how tough he was, reminding him of everything he had gone through and reassuring him he would make it through this too.

Everyone held their breath when they jumped the last few feet onto the ledge.

When it held, the adults slumped in relief. Dylan put a hand to his side and winced. The exertion clearly strained his injury.

But that was a problem for later. The first step was successful. The ledge supported Dylan and Wade, now it was time to save Jesse.

Twelve

Reach

Wade and Dylan quickly assessed the situation. How stable was the small ledge they stood on? Would it hold all three of them? Wade's jaw tightened. It would have to. There was little time, the boy was tiring. He needed off that rock as fast as possible.

Wade laid on the ledge and inched his way closer to Jesse, kicking up dirt as he did. Dylan sat behind him, holding onto his legs. Wade needed him, it would be quite a reach to the boy.

Wade inched himself out far enough the entire top half of his sweaty body hung past the dirt-covered ledge, suspended in the air. His heart thumped against his ribs as he forced himself to stretch further and further out. The gap between Wade and Jesse almost closed.

Jesse's pale face went whiter as he looked from Wade to the ground far, far below.

"Don't look at that, Jesse," Wade said. "Look at me."

Jesse zeroed in on Wade's face.

"Good boy. Now reach out one of your hands."

Jesse swung his head back and forth so aggressively Wade worried for his safety. "No! No, I can't!"

"You can."

"Don't make me, please, don't make me." Jesse's fingers whitened on the stone as he gripped tighter.

Wade's body shook with the strain of staying horizontal over the drop for so long. If he didn't get Jesse off that rock soon, he wouldn't have the strength left to do so.

"Jesse, you're tougher than a hungry mountain lion. You ain't gonna let this little ole mountain beat you down now, are ya?”

Wade continued coaxing Jesse until the boy's hand loosened on the rock.

Wade heaved his body out a little more. Behind him, Dylan uttered a loud groan and scrambled to keep them both on the ledge. Wade’s heart sunk as his hands flailed in the air, the cliff too far behind to grab onto. When Dylan found his footing and steadied, Wade released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

I ain't doing that again.

Wade stared at Jesse. "Now, boy!"

Jesse's arm flew outward. Wade locked onto it. He wrapped his big hand around the boy's arm and shoulder, peeling him from the large stone.

Jesse latched himself to Wade, eyes bulging with fright. Wade couldn’t help but to bend downward. He put one hand against the shelf of the mountain and prayed his brother had the endurance to get through this.

* * *

The entire side of Dylan's body blazed with pain. The sudden addition of Jesse's weight taxed him. His arms became knotted ripples of muscle.

Jesse and Wade hovered over the edge, while Dylan struggled just to keep them there, to drag them back seemed impossible.

Dylan called himself every sort of name trying to pump himself up. It's just a man and a kid. You can do this.

"You got this, little brother?"

Dylan set his jaw, grinding his teeth. You're gonna do this, you ain't got a choice! He planted himself and leaned back, dragging his brother with him.

Dylan bellowed a string of curses along in a low groan as his world filled with red, burning pain. Inch by inch, he hauled his brother and Jesse up over the ledge. He felt the slice and pop of one, two, then several of his stitches.

Blood seeped then soaked the side of Dylan's shirt. There was a gasp from Skye above him.

Dylan ignored it. He ignored everything except the triumph he felt with each small millimeter he moved his brother.

At last, Wade was close enough he used his elbows and knees to muscle himself up. Lastly, he pulled Jesse over the ledge.

Jesse ran to Dylan and clung to him as the man tousled his hair and squeezed his shoulder.

Wade glanced at Dylan. "I had my doubts for a minute there."

Dylan grunted. "Only a minute? I must've done better than I thought."

The two brothers stared at each other before grasping each other's arms.

Wade looked Dylan over. "Ya look like crap."

"Let's just get this done."

They lifted Jesse onto Wade's shoulders. From there, Jesse reached up to Skye and was pulled to safety.

* * *

Trembling with relief, Skye wrapped her arms around Jesse's dirty body, holding him tight to her. Her sobs returned but this time because of her joy.

Jesse clenched Skye as they hugged and rocked, wadding her shirt in his hands as tears rolled down his face. "I'm sorry."

"Jesse, it wasn't your fault, it just crumbled. You're okay now. That's all that matters."

Jesse stood and awkwardly scrubbed his face. "I didn't mean to call you Mommy. That's what babies do."

"It's okay, honey," Skye reassured him, "I know it scared you."

"I was so scared. I thought I was a goner!"

"You're safe." Skye gave Jesse another hug before peeking over the edge again.

Wade knelt so Dylan could step on his shoulders. Shaking, Wade slowly rose. Dylan grabbed the lip of the cliff and pulled himself up. Not without cost, though. His face twisted even though Skye did her best to help him. Once on solid ground, Dylan bent holding his side.

Skye couldn't imagine the anguish this re-injury caused him. Watching his struggles as he dragged Wade and Jesse to safety had made her sick to her stomach. Dirt still caked her fingernails from gripping the grass as she had watched and wished there was a way she could help them.

Skye gasped at his blood-soaked shirt. "Oh, Dylan!"

"Let's get Wade up here, then we'll look at it," Dylan grunted as he lowered himself into position to haul Wade up.

"I'll help."

"You ain't strong enough."

"I just helped you." There was no way Skye would let Dylan do this by himself. "I can do something to help."

Dylan scooted to make room for her. The two reached down but were still short of spanning the gap to Wade.

"Jessie, get the blanket," Skye said. Jesse ran for it.

Wade looked up at them. "Uh, not sure the boy is gonna make it back with that. The ledge is feelin shaky."

"Jump!" Dylan ordered.

Wade leaped and grabbed onto Dylan and Skye's hands as part of the ledge crumbled. The weight was far more than Skye expected. She cried out as her arms exploded in pain, first from the jerk, then as they continued to stretch beyond their normal limits.

"Skye?" Dylan's eyes wavered between her and Wade.

"I can do this." Skye gritted her teeth. Even as she spoke, her half of Wade's brawny body unbalanced her, and she started to slide toward the cliff's edge.

Dylan swiftly moved one hand to grip Wade's arm below Skye's hold. Jesse leaped onto Skye's back for added weight and to offer what assistance he was able.

Once Skye felt secure, she glanced at Dylan. "I'm good now."

"Are you sure? We can't lose any more ground, I ain't gonna be able to -- to pull him up if we do." His voice broke.

"It's okay, Dylan. We can do this."

Dylan and Skye began to worm their way backward. Jesse took hold of Wade's shirt and pulled.

Once Wade was lifted high enough, he dragged himself onto solid ground. The four flopped back onto the grass, gasping.

Skye was the first one up, crawling to Dylan and examining his reopened knife wound.

Her face paled when she saw the blood soaking his shirt and dripping onto the green below him. Skye slowly peeled his t-shirt back to see what she already suspected, many of his stitches were ripped. Dylan had a hollow, bloody socket in his midsection.

Skye hadn't seen the injury the first time around, and it was more than she wanted to see now. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and sent Jesse for the cloth napkins she brought to the picnic. They would help stem the stream of fresh blood.

Wade knelt beside Skye and laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. Worry for Dylan covered his face.

Thirteen

Promises

Dylan grit his teeth as he tried to sit up. Skye put her hand to the middle of his broad chest and pushed.

"Stay down," she ordered.

Dylan winced and fell back. He suffered more than he was letting on if he obeyed without objection.

When Skye applied pressure to the jagged wound, Dylan closed his eyes and grunted his discomfort. It took some time, but the bleeding stopped.

Wade ripped the blanket into strips, and they used it as bandages. Then, Skye insisted Dylan rest before they started home.

After the break, Skye packed up the picnic supplies. "Wade, can you and Jesse carry this?"

"Sure thing."

She turned to Jesse. "You go with Wade. But don't get too far ahead of us, baby, we may need your help."

Jesse's nose and forehead crinkled. "You know I'm not a baby."

Skye hugged him and ruffled his hair before turning his face up to her, "What I know is that right now I can call you whatever I want. Baby." Then, as he rolled his eyes, she kissed the top of his head.

As Jesse and Wade moved away from her, she called out, "Wade, watch him!"

"Me? Don't worry. I ain't gonna let him fall over any cliffs."

Skye huffed and pasted her mouth shut. In her heightened emotional state, nothing helpful would come out of it.

"Your brother!" she grumbled to Dylan.

"Yeah, well, he already did his good deed. Seems he's only capable of one a day."

Skye laughed in agreement. It had been an enormous good deed, and she needed to be content with that.

Skye put her sore arms around Dylan to help him get up. Both of them let out a groan. Tremendous relief and gratitude flooded Skye's face. She tipped her face up to Dylan and said, "Thank you, Dylan, thank you so much!"

With a solemn glance, he nodded, acknowledging her appreciation. "I'm here. I'll always be here," he said, reminding her of the promise he made her after that first call to her father. She laid her head against him for a moment as they looked out over the view one more time.

The sun was setting. A bit of orange color lit up the sky, bathing the trees in that special glow that only happens in late autumn.

It's beautiful.

But it was as if Dylan looked at an entirely different scene. "I hate this place, I've always hated it, and now this!"

Skye raised her head and stared at him. Dylan almost trembled with strong emotion.

"Why? Dylan, you said it would be a fine place for a picnic."

"You seemed to want to come here."

"Not if you hate it." Skye tipped her head. "You come up here all the time."

"I come up here cause I can see the town, not cause I like it."

Skye glanced from one side of the overlook to the other. "Why do you despise it so much?"

Dylan twisted in her arms, working up courage, but his nerve left him.

He blew out a forceful sigh. "I just hate it, okay. Not everything needs a big discussion. I don't want to talk about it right now. Maybe someday, just not —“ He finished his sentence by rubbing the back of his neck as he shook his head.

Skye squeezed Dylan's arm. "It's okay. You can tell me when you're ready. No hurry. Now let's get home."

Dylan relaxed, and he pulled Skye a little closer to his side as they made their way down the path home.

After arriving, Skye got Dylan settled on the bed. "Who should we get to help with this? Since we don't know what we're doing." She waved her hand toward Dylan's side.

"Nah, no sense in that. Wade can handle it."

Skye settled her hands on her hips. "Dylan. Not to knock Wade's skills, but you need someone to examine this.”

"There ain't anybody. We were guessin then, and we'd be guessin now. No reason to drag someone else over here."

"Dylan!" Skye said but gave up when his steely gaze told her he'd decided. Throwing her hands in the air, she offered her services, such as they were.

But after seeing Dylan jerk with every bit of stone Wade fished out, Skye gave her weak knees a break and went to the living room to sit. A girl could only take so much.

Jesse looked fascinated and horrified as he watched the two men until Skye called him over to her. "How are you?" she asked as she turned him round to check.

"I got a couple scrapes." Safe, Jesse now felt rather manly about his dangerous adventure and pointed out his injuries with pride.

Skye played along with him. "Okay, well, we certainly don't want infection setting in these bad boys, we better clean them up."

Once everyone was patched and cleaned up, they came into the living room and sat down. Skye looked around the room, her eyes warm with appreciation they had all made it through another day.

"Until everyone is healed up, and I mean mended to my satisfaction, I want promises we will stay in and around this cabin. No matter what brilliant ideas I come up with!"

They all snickered and laughed but were sincere in the assurances they gave her.

Fourteen

Something About That Woman

The boy had long since gone to bed, and Wade was out on watch. Dylan sat in the living room, examining the smooth, light brown wood of his bow for any small cracks or twisting before waxing the string.

In the kitchen, Skye mixed up a batch of chocolate chip cookies as a surprise for Jesse with some chips Wade scrounged from one of the neighbors.

These last few days had been quiet ones. Dylan's side continued to heal. He stayed close to the house as he promised. He was eager to be well enough to get back to his routine and smart enough to know he wasn't ready yet.

The days restricted to the cabin brought him into closer contact with Skye, and the feelings he tried to tamp down stirred stronger in him. Dylan ducked his head as he glanced at Skye.

Something about the woman drew him back again and again. Dylan frowned and turned his attention back to his bow, determined to ignore her. It was nothing. They were cooped up in this tiny place was all. Sure, they talked a lot. But she was right here if he wanted to talk. And her, well, she yammered on all kinds of nonsense he couldn't get away from. Dylan smiled, remembering some of her earlier nonsense. It's not all that bad.

The light clang of metal bowls made Dylan, almost unwillingly, glanced her way again. Most of Skye's chestnut-brown hair lay in a long, low ponytail that lightly skimmed her back as she moved. Thin tendrils drifted against her neck and cheeks as she reached into an upper cupboard for some forgotten item.

Tonight, she wore a long, blue dress. Something about it reminded Dylan of clothing his grandmother would've worn. But it didn't seem matronly at all on Skye's generous curves. His gaze skimmed over her again. It looked dang fine was what it looked.

Skye confidently moved as she went about her work. Dylan wondered if that was what attracted him. It was a trait he admired. Even when the girl learned something new, she had this sure way of going about it. Like she just knew she would get the hang of it.

When Dylan first brought Skye to his cabin, he'd thought her confidence only a part of her unwillingness to acknowledge what went on around her. And Lord knew she liked to ignore troubles.

But he'd soon figured out it wasn't an over-confidence to her situation, but a certainty she would do her best. He admired that. He had from the beginning. Dylan's mind drifted to one of the first times he'd seen her.

He and Wade had been in town, leaned up against the rough brick exterior of the local diner watching the people of Colton go about their business. The scent of Salisbury steak wafted to Dylan. What he would've given for a little cash to sink his teeth into the rich meat and potatoes smothered with gravy. He'd been so hungry; he could almost taste it.

Bored or nervous, Dylan chewed at his thumbnail as Wade pointed out different people who amused him. Wade's laughter barked out, again and again, causing more than a few people to glance their way. Wade's laughter could carry a fair distance.

Dylan snorted his amusement over his brother's comments as he looked over the busy street. For them, coming to town held the same entertainment as going to a movie did for those with more money.

He and Wade usually stuck to the mountains, away from the judgmental eyes of the townsfolk. Though the Cole family had been around as long as the hills Dylan grew up in, their good reputation had waned several generations ago, and now, it was nonexistent.

Their Dad ended it.

Dylan noticed the anxious glances thrown their way. He looked at his brother and himself, seeing their lazy stance and torn clothing from the passersby's point of view.

They weren't doing anything to make the family's reputation any better, they never had.

Dylan lowered his head and practically snarled as he stared down a suit-clad man who challenged him with a long look. Only after the man tightened his grip on the woman beside him and hurried along was Dylan satisfied. He scoffed. Who'd want a skinny thing like that anyway?

Dylan sometimes wished the Coles weren't looked down on, but there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it. Colton branded Dylan and Wade troublemakers long ago, and it wasn't likely to change anytime soon. Only on the mountain did the world make any sense to them. There, they found freedom from petty laws they barely understood and a community that understood them.

Still, they needed to come down for supplies now and again, which was last week. This week they came about the sickness.

Word on the mountain was that there was one almighty flu fanning out across the area and it had the brothers curious. Now they were here, there was no doubt the rumors were true. Sick people formed a line out the Doc's office door at least twenty deep, and some looked like they were hanging on by a thread. Coughing, many sat on the ground, their weakened bodies bowed, as they waited.

Dylan watched as the townsfolk actively avoided looking at the long line of Doc Kinder’s patients. People were scared of the disease.

"We need to find out more about this flu," Dylan said, "so we can tell the others." Wade nodded in agreement.

It was then, the door to the coffee shop on the other side of the street burst open. Dylan pushed himself straighter against the wall.

It was her.

Skye didn't see him, but his eyes tracked her as she tapped her way down the sidewalk. Dylan didn't know what drew him. She wasn't the type of woman that usually caught his eye. He found high-heels ridiculous, her outfit too professional for his taste, and her face and hair overly made up. Still, he couldn't help wondering what a change in clothing and a little mussing up would do.

Wade noticed Dylan's unwavering stare Skye's way. "Little brother," he laughed, "that woman ain't for you."

Dylan sent Wade an irritated look before scraping his eyes over Skye again and turning for the sidewalk. "I can still look," Dylan mumbled as he stole one last glance over his shoulder. There was something about that woman.

The smack of a wooden spoon against the steel bowl drew Dylan's attention back to the present, and he smiled. Even then, he knew she was different.

Fifteen

Womanly Attention

Dylan ran his fingers down the smooth stock of his bow. Skye started to hum in the low-lit kitchen, and once again, his gaze moved from his task at hand to her. The homey scene seemed intimate and comforting.

There had never been a woman in this kitchen, or house, for that matter, before Skye. But Dylan found that he liked her here. Not that a woman had to be in the kitchen, he corrected himself, but if she stepped in, he sure wasn't one to kick her out. In fact, Dylan reckoned, Skye would be the one to shoo him out. He wouldn't mind a bit as long as he was able to sit right here and watch her.

Dylan realized there were technical terms for every step of the recipe she worked on. She had tried to tell him what they were. But he didn't know a spoon from a spatula. When he was cooking, he just picked whatever tool seemed handy, and he was fine keeping it that way.

His eyes trailed the woman as she scraped butter and sugar together. Her whole body moved with the force of the action, almost as if she were dancing.

The sharp crack of eggs and a gritty stirring as she beat them into the mixture came next. Dylan's hand ran along his arm as his eyes moved over her.

Skye picked up a little spoon and added a few small ingredients with a twist of her wrist. Flour required more effort to mix. Her slight arm muscle, along with the rest of her, swayed with every deep stir of the dough.

Lastly, she added chocolate, slipping a few of the chips between her plump lips. Dylan imagined the silky bitter-sweet morsels melting on her tongue. He'd shared a few with her when they hid the chocolate from Jesse.

Skye brought a dough-laden finger to her mouth for a final taste.

"Mm." A little smile curved her lips as she savored its sweetness.

After pushing the dough from the spoon to the pan in little clumps, she bent to gently slid the pan into the waiting oven. Hot air escaped the stove, blowing back her hair and warming her face.

Skye closed the oven door and stood. She scraped her finger through the dough again. Then raised it to her mouth and turned toward the living room.

Dylan's eyes locked with hers and held. Skye's eyes widened before she unknowingly returned Dylan's heavy look.

Dylan's world crashed to a halt in a way he had never before experienced. He wasn't sure he drew breath but didn't care. He didn't seem to need air. Just this, whatever this was.

Then Skye moved or blinked, he wasn't sure exactly what. The small movement broke their connection. Dylan's heart ached a little at the separation.

Dylan brought his hand to his chest and rubbed. He looked at the wood floor and swallowed a few times as he tried to compose himself. It took everything he had to stay rooted to this spot, not to look at her, not to go to her.

Dylan knew Skye still stared at him, he could sense it. Nervously, he scuffed his foot. I gotta get out of here. Dylan kept his head down and mumbled the need to check on Wade.

The door smacked behind him as he closed it harder than he intended. Dylan sagged against it. His hand strayed back to his thumping heart. Dylan laid his palm on the middle of his chest, feeling its frantic movement.

This new emotion shot to the very core of him. Desire was there, of that there was no doubt, but there was more. Something far deeper stirred in Dylan. Something he had never known before.

Dylan thought of how much brighter the house was now Skye was here, of how a helpless gesture from her had him by her side in an instant, of how he put himself in danger to keep her safe. It all led to this.

An emotion so raw, he felt vulnerable and exposed. Dylan didn't like it. It frightened him, though he would hardly admit that to himself.

I'm an idiot. Get hurt and have a little womanly attention, and I go all soft inside. Well, that ends today, I ain't allowing no more of it. Dylan pushed off the door and walked into the darkness sure that his strong will would put an end to all this nonsense.

But it wasn't the end of it. In the days that followed, Dylan found the sensation stayed with him. It burned a hole in him as sure as a living ember would. Even when he left the cabin, going far into the woods to escape Skye, she lingered in his mind. Dylan would think he had control only to find thoughts of her tumbling through his mind with no warning.

Some mornings he unconsciously delayed before escaping outside. Dylan often heard Wade snicker and realized he had been staring at Skye for too long. Angry, Dylan would bang out of the cabin, startling everyone.

For some men, love comes easy, an exhilarating experience that makes them want to share it with the world. But not for Dylan. He hated these feelings. He felt frustrated, out of control, a wild mess he no longer recognized and couldn't understand.

But as hard as Dylan fought it, more and more often, the cabin drew him -- to her. It wore at him and, try as he might, there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Sixteen

No Sense in Freezing

Skye stood in the kitchen precisely as Dylan left her, the cookie dough melting in her mouth. She stared at her bare feet. I swear my toes curled.

To see Dylan's thoughts revealed so openly on his face had been a shock. The man hardly expressed his feelings, and Skye barely understood him on a good day. She glanced at the door. Dylan's rushed exit told her how he felt about the lapse in his guard.

He had been acting a little strange. He showed up around the cabin more, but there always seemed to be a reason. Skye and Dylan got along better, but other than that little had changed.

Skye giggled. Strange was not exactly unusual for Dylan. He'd acted strangely before, and she never knew the reason. He wasn't easy to read. But she liked that. After spending years in college learning how to decode a person's behavior, it seemed refreshing to be around someone she wasn't always three steps ahead of. The surprise was part of his appeal -- most of the time.

Skye turned to take the baked cookies out of the oven. He was probably working through something. Between Dylan's confession of hating the overlook -- whatever that was about -- Jesse's near death, his own injury and the battle he had gone through, Dylan had to have a lot on his mind.

Two evenings later, the weather, which had already cooled off, got considerably colder. When the fire burned low toward morning, everyone shivered. Skye wanted one comfortable night.

She lit the black pot-bellied stove. Today was the coldest yet, so they expected the night to be more of the same. She and Jesse pulled the mattresses off the bed, onto the floor, closer to the stove.

Skye laid down and tucked a small blanket around first Jesse, then herself, then laid a larger one over the two of them and fell to sleep.

Dylan sat by the window and watched as Wade came in from the cold, stomping his feet and rubbing his arms.

Wade surveyed mattresses on the floor, Jesse and Skye asleep on them. "Looks like we're down to body heat."

Dylan returned his gaze to the scene outside the window. "Yeah, no sense in freezin alone, I guess. Not sure it'll be necessary to keep watch tonight, even the Sick and Infected should know to stay in from the cold."

"Yeah, let's board it all up and take turns dozing." After everything was done, Wade crawled into the makeshift bed on Jesse's side, turned his back to everyone and started snoring almost immediately.

Dylan shifted toward the sleeping trio, chewing his nail. Skye's dark hair fanned out against the white of her pillow. A pleasant expression covered her face as if all her troubles were gone for the night.

Dylan worried about his own problems. There wasn't a lot of bed left, and it would be close quarters if he laid down beside her. Things were bad enough for him as it was.

He eyed their old couch with distaste. He needed sleep, and that lumpy thing didn't allow much rest.

Dylan's eyes moved from the couch, to Skye, and out the window to scan the grounds. The couch, Skye, and the grounds became his routine for the next several minutes until he found his gaze lingering on Skye longer than the others. Dylan scolded himself, calling himself every kind of fool. He'd spent the last two days putting distance between himself and the woman, and here he was back where he started. Dylan rubbed his chest in that place that seemed to ache just for her.

His eyes drifted back to Skye. How could he resist?

Dylan tapped Wade on the shoulder, letting him know it was his turn to keep an ear open for anything unusual. Wade snorted and turned, but he didn't snore again. He was good.

Dylan slipped into the bed beside Skye. She stirred and turned toward Dylan but didn't wake up. Her dark lashes lay against her pale skin, and a light rose color touched her cheeks. Skye quietly inhaled and exhaled. It calmed Dylan's thumping heart, and he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Skye woke slowly, surprisingly warm. Strong arms surrounded her, her head comfortable against a firm chest, tucked beneath someone's chin. Half-asleep and for a minute in another place and time, Skye snuggled and tightened her arms.

She inhaled, searching for the scent of him, but something was off. This man smelled of wood fire and deep forests, not the expensive cologne Skye always bought for him.

These muscles were too defined, the arms holding her too long. And her husband never liked laying together like this. He preferred her to stay on her own side of the bed.

Skye blinked her eyes open and looked up. A stubbled chin. His head tipped toward hers, dark hair and tanned skin showing off blue eyes.

A million memories of her husband, good and bad, passed through Skye's mind as she fully woke and remembered the last time she slept content in a man's arms. Tears filled her eyes as Skye recalled the sad ending to that particular story.

Now she laid here, arms around Dylan, making things awkward for both of them.

"Dylan!" Skye's face reddened as she tried to pull away from him. "Umm...so sorry."

"Don't apologize. Best mornin I've had in a while now." He smiled and tightened his hand holding her waist to stop her from moving too far away.

Skye winced as old memories of her less gentle ex continued to tumble through her mind. "No! Don't." Skye's tone sounded unusually sharp as she pushed further away.

Dylan tensed. He squinted as a shutter came down over his eyes. Skye's brow crinkled, and she bit her lip as she returned her hand to his chest. "No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything. I was just -- just not awake yet."

Dylan jerked his head in some semblance of a nod and yanked his arm from her as he jumped up from the mattress.

Skye looked down. Well, that just made it worse.

"Dylan?" she called out, but he was already half-way out the door. There was no answer.

Skye sighed and flopped over onto her back and directly into the giggling, smirking faces of Jesse and Wade. Skye rolled her eyes and stood, heading for the isolation of the bathroom.

Seventeen

Ain’t Any Good

Skye and Jesse continued their training on target practice and foraging wild food. The morning tired her, and Skye needed a break. She looked over the novels in the Cole's tiny library. It was clear they were not big readers, but they had a few How-To books that seemed promising.

Skye pulled out a book on water collection. Her training needed to include anything and everything that could help her through the upcoming years. This may just be what saved her one day.

Skye took the volume outside, settling back against the rough bark of a large tree. The cold night had brought a beautiful, sunny morning, and though a slight chill hung in the air, it wasn't so much she was uncomfortable.

Dylan and Wade were busy with projects of their own, and Jesse was exploring to the side of the house whenever the men didn't call the boy over for his help. From where she sat, Skye could keep an eye on Jesse. It still made her nervous when he was out of her sight.

A few pages into the instruction manual and Skye had a new appreciation of Wade's roof fascination. It was part of their water collection system. Having lived where a public water system had always been available, she'd never really thought a lot about how the water got to her. She'd just turned on the tap, and it poured out, pretty much whenever she needed it. But here they didn't have that luxury, so the ability to get water depended mostly on Wade's creation.

She glanced from the book's diagram to the cabin's roof and gutters, then back to the book again. Skye traced the picture of the holding tank as she studied the pipes attached to their own reservoir of water. Wade had followed the manual to the letter. It was perfect.

What an ingenious system!

A sharp clanging and a few loud curses came from Dylan as he worked under his old truck. Though he had a new one, he still tinkered with the red one from time to time.

Skye bit the inside of her cheek as she debated the pros and cons of approaching Dylan. After this morning, she was nervous, but she had to face him sometime.

She stood, called out to Jesse and pointed to her destination, "Jesse, stay in the yard. I will be right over here."

"I know," Jesse said, his words drawn-out and resigned.

* * *

Dylan watched Skye's feet as she approached the truck and closed his eyes, sighing. He wanted... needed a little breathing room. The emotions twisting through him were bad enough without her being near him.

Skye stopped at the side of the truck, then knelt down and stuck her head under it to peer at Dylan. "What are you working on?"

"Brakes." When Skye seemed to want more, he asked, "What've you been up to?"

"I'm reading a book about the water collection thing you have going on up there on the roof, I had no idea. It's a great system."

Dylan banged on the truck a couple more times. "Crazy gettin it all in place, but it works real good."

"I bet. I just hadn't -- I don't know -- noticed. Something else for me to learn." Skye laughed. "Sometimes, It seems like I am getting another college education living up here."

Dylan snorted and hammered the truck again.

Silence. Maybe she would go away.

Instead, Skye dropped down and scooted under the vehicle, settling beside him.

No, clearly not.

Hopes dashed, Dylan tried a different tactic. He put Skye to work. "Can you hand me that wrench stickin outta the toolbox there?"

Skye's brows came together as she reached toward the pile of tools. She hesitated a moment before choosing one and handing it over, studying Dylan's face as she gave it to him. When he took it without complaints, she smiled.

Dylan worked on the brakes without a word, hoping Skye would get bored and leave. No doubt she was feeling bad about this morning and trying to make up for it, but he wasn't in the mood.

When there was a break in his clanging, Skye took her hands from her ears and asked, "Can I help?"

"Nope."

"I can help. You can teach me."

"Nah, ya can't. Go read."

"Dylan, don't be rude. Is it this morning? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to -- to be insensitive."

"I ain't bein rude. I don't want to talk about this. You wanted to read. Go read."

Skye glanced away from him to the other end of the truck but didn't move. He was trying so hard, couldn't she be happy with that?

Dylan gritted his teeth, and as if dealing with a small child, he said, "There's nothing wrong, Skye. We're all good."

"We're good?" She stared, obviously not believing him.

"Yeah. Good." He stared right back. It was, after all, his specialty.

Skye broke first, turning her head away and heaving a little sigh. "Okay. I have the ingredients for some apple muffins. I guess I'll go make those."

Apple muffins were Dylan's favorite, and she knew it. He watched her wiggle herself back out from under the truck and head to the house.

Dylan sighed. She must feel pretty bad. Whatever was going on here wasn't any good for either one of them. Something needed to be done to give them both some peace.

Soon, the enticing smell of baking muffins drew Dylan, almost against his will, into the cabin. When he entered the house, he saw Skye dealing with the hot little pieces of bread. Without speaking, he walked over and pulled them from the pan for her. He took an apple muffin for himself and sat it on the table, waiting for it to cool as he sat down in one of the kitchen chairs.

Skye poured herself a glass of water and held the pitcher up with an inquiring look. At his nod, she filled one for him and sat down on the opposite side of the table.

Dylan sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, then looked back at Skye. "Ya know, I been thinking. I could clean out the cabin next door if you'd like."

A confused look covered Skye's face as she sipped her water. "What for?"

"For you to live in."

Eighteen

Burdens

Skye blinked a couple of times. "For me to live in?"

What is he saying? A buzzing started in her head, and she swallowed hard as she realized. This was her worst nightmare -- to be cast out. She'd held herself back from even thinking about any feelings for Dylan because of this very thing, and here it was happening anyway.

Dylan glanced down at the shoe he scraped along the floor. "It'd give everyone more room. Won't get in each other's way so much."

"And Jesse? What about him?" Skye kept her voice calm, but inside a fire flickered and grew.

"Well, I reckoned he would be with you. He needs you."

So Jesse's out too. "If this was what you planned on doing, why didn't you just leave me with Tom and Tricia?" Skye clenched her teeth as she stared at him.

Dylan's head came up. "I didn't want you that far away. I can't protect you there." His tone was matter-of-fact.

Skye ran a hand down her hip before curling her fingers into a fist. "So let me understand this. You come after me when I headed to Ohio and shot down Tom's invitation for Jesse and me to stay there because you didn't want us that far away. Yet now, we are getting into each other's way, and you want me out."

Skye slapped her flat hand on the table as fear built, and self-control snapped. Dylan winced, but Skye didn't care. Just when Skye thought she and Jesse were safe, had found a home. She'd been sure this day would never come, that Dylan would never order her gone, yet here they were.

Skye tried to check herself. She didn't know enough to keep Jesse alive. Their time on the road proved that. She should be on her knees, begging Dylan to stay instead of working herself up to a boil.

But Skye had been that woman before, she wasn't now. This was more than Skye could take. Her frantic mind screamed that Dylan was unfair to put her in this precarious position.

She leaned toward him. "Sometimes, you try my patience to the very limit. You're worse than that little boy out there!" Skye's chair scraped against the kitchen floor as she suddenly stood, then stalked toward the door.

"No! Oh, no!" Skye muttered as she rounded back on Dylan, her hurt, fear, and anger continuing to build. Her voice rose with every word. "How did this become about you, and what you want? What about what Jesse wants and needs or even Wade? What about me? But we don't count? It just about you?"

Dylan replied in the only manner he knew when confronted with fury, the way his life trained him to respond. All his pent-up frustration and wrath came pouring out, directly at Skye.

He stood so fast, his chair launched across the room, crashing into the wall behind him. One large step brought him to Skye, his fierce face inches from hers. "I can't do this friend thing anymore! If that makes it all about me then fine, that's what it is, but I ain't gonna do it!"

Skye could feel Dylan's tightly controlled power. His body rigid as he struggled to hold the worst of his anger in check. Taken aback by his aggression, Skye took a step away from him. Her own ire cooled slightly as her clinical side reminded her this was the only way he knew how to respond.

Skye wasn't afraid. Dylan would never physically hurt her. Still, this level of fury was more intense than she had thought him capable. Skye released a shaky breath to help calm herself but found the pain of him trying to get rid of her took over once again.

"Can't do what, Dylan?" Skye asked. "What you promised me you would do? Is that done now? You will stick us in that cabin to be rid of us?"

Dylan's voice turned to ice. "I'll still take care of you, but I don't want to see you every day!"

Color drained from Skye's face, and air rushed from her lungs. Her eyes swept his features as she imagined the days without him, and the full weight of her feelings settled on her. There was no doubt in her mind her refusal to acknowledge her emotions pushed him to this point. A sob broke. What have I done?

Skye entreated him, holding a hand out to him. "I'm sorry, Dylan. This is my fault. I thought being friends was better for us, for all of us. Friends --"

"No! What can't you understand? I said, I ain't. Now get packed! You want to go to Tom's? That’s where I'll take ya," Dylan waved his hand, dismissing her.

"Dylan --"

"I ain't hearin ya. Just do what I said."

Dylan's unwillingness to listen fired Skye up again. "You rude, moronic brute! Fine, I'll just go. I'm sorry we have been such a burden to you!" She turned away from him and grabbed her backpack off the floor. Skye pressed her lips together and shoved clothes into it.

* * *

Dylan watched her pack, his shoulders tightening with every item she threw in the bag. Before he knew what he was doing, he murmured, "No."

Skye stopped for a moment. Hand trembling, she brought it to her forehead. "This is what you want, Dylan. Maybe you’re right, maybe it is what you -- we all -- need."

She picked up a shirt and thrust it into her full pack.

"I said no!" Dylan was aware he was confused, a mess. This is what his feelings for her had brought him to. He needed her gone, he needed her here. Nothing made sense.

* * *

Skye paused as Dylan roared the words, her insides chilled. She zipped her case. Dylan reached around her and tore the bag from her hands, throwing it behind him. It sailed across the room then bumped and crashed to a halt.

Skye said nothing but turned to retrieve the backpack. Dylan blocked her. When she tried to go around him, he boxed her between himself and the bed. When Skye attempted a third time, Dylan took a step closer. It was impossible for her to move.

"Back up," Skye ordered. "Let me out!"

Dylan's raw anger exploding in front of her took her back to a place she hadn't been in a long time. It frightened her.

Her hands smacked his hard chest. Her bracelets jangled against her arm when she pushed him again. She demanded space. He became an immovable stone.

* * *

Dylan's anger blazed, jumbled with several emotions he couldn't name. He didn't like it. He also didn't like her anger.

First, Skye hated his suggestion, now she wanted it. She rejected him. Again.

Dylan's chest puffed as Skye beat and pushed on it. He was so intent on keeping her here, he didn't see the flash of fear in her eyes. He scraped his shoe the smallest bit forward, throwing her off-balance.

"Stop. Packing." He brought two fingers to her shoulder and slowly pushed against her.

* * *

Skye went down in an instant, bouncing once as she landed, then sitting motionless. Her anger seemed to have burned away all her strength, leaving sadness in its place.

"Dylan." Skye sounded tired. "What do you want?"

Dylan's glare turned into something else, something like longing.

He reached for Skye as if appealing on some level his words were unable to reach. Dylan stopped himself. He abruptly turned from her, striding toward the door.

Soft and gentle, Skye's voice came to Dylan. His hand stayed on the handle of the front door.

"Dylan, what do you want?"

Dylan hung his head, uttering a low groan. When he turned back to her, it was not because he wanted to. It was because he had to.

Those first words had been a mistake. Dylan had known it the instant they left his lips. The shock on her face had told him. Along with the weeping hole that suddenly appeared in his heart at the thought of Skye leaving him.

Hearing the words aloud, Dylan was sure the agony of Skye leaving would be far worse than the pain of seeing her every day. The second she'd turned her back to him, he'd felt abandoned.

Abandonment and Dylan didn't get along well. He had to put a stop to it.

Now her soft words made their way to him, asking the question he'd been afraid to ask himself. It took only a second to return to her.

Dylan was careful, gentle as he put one hand along her cheek and the other to the small of her back. He tugged her closer. Skye reached up, caressing the back of his neck. This felt right, perfect even.

Dylan tipped Skye's face up toward his and poured everything he couldn't say aloud through his gaze. Eyes locked, Skye and Dylan searched each other for the answers they couldn't find inside themselves. Skye's heartbeat thundered below his fingertips as he slid his hand over her neck. His own began to roar along with hers.

Skye's surprise quickly turned into acceptance. Her eyes shone as she leaned into Dylan. Skye moved her hand to the top of his arm and pushed herself up to bring her lips closer to his.

Everything Dylan wanted was in his arms, yet he still could not trust it. He would rather deal with the situation as it had been then the way it could be. If, after this, she rejected him another time, his heart would not only be missing a piece, it would be entirely broken.

If this kiss happened, it might be his undoing -- an ending, not a beginning.

He needed to leave. "No." Softly, as he gave her one last slow stroke. "No, we can't."

Dylan turned from her, looking over his shoulder once before going out of the cabin door. Skye knelt on the bed; arms wrapped around herself. Tears rolled down her face.

Nineteen

Words

Jesse knelt on the ground, making dirt ramps for his cars when Dylan and Skye began to shout. He looked up and frowned. There'd been lots of shouting in the house he grew up in, but Skye didn't scream, she talked.

Jesse tipped his head and tried to listen. What were they so angry about? But even though the voices got louder, he couldn't make out the words through the closed windows.

A crash had him bolting upright, stomach tense.

There was no hurt cry, only yelling. But when the second crash came, Jesse started toward the front door. Wade stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Jesse tried to shake him off, but Wade held firm. Jesse scowled at Wade. Skye might need him.

"I know, boy," said Wade, "I don't like it either, but they need to have their say, uninterrupted. It's been comin for a while now."

Jesse pressed his lips together and turned back, staring at the front door of the little cabin. He willed them to stop arguing and come out.

"Ya know, Dylan wouldn't ever hurt Skye, right?"

Jesse shrugged. As far as he had seen in his short life, it was more likely than not that a man would hurt a woman. The boy's hands curled into fists if Skye cried out he would go in there no matter what Wade did.

Wade crouched on the ground and peered at Jesse's face. "A good man never hits his woman, and Dylan is a good man."

Jesse nodded his agreement. He believed that. After everything Dylan did for him, he was more than good.

Wade looked over at the cabin which had gotten quieter now. "That woman is the other side of him. He just doesn't know it yet."

Jesse scoffed and rolled his eyes. He thought that was just about the stupidest thing he ever heard. What was Wade talking about?

Wade barked out a laugh. "Don't worry, boy, your day's comin."

Wade stood and let out a long, low whistle as Dylan left the house and headed out to the woods. Dylan didn't give either of them so much as a glance, he'd been too busy wiping away tears.

Jesse tugged at Wade's hand again, but Wade still held fast. "A couple more minutes. Let her have some time."

When Wade let go, Jesse ran as fast as he could to the cabin, stopping inside the door. Skye used a straw broom to sweep glass from the floor.

Jesse's gaze rolled over her and the broken glass. "You okay?" he asked.

Skye nodded. "Yep, I'm fine, but a hug would be nice."

Jesse let out a breath, stepped over the glass and put his arms around her.

"It was really loud." His voice broke.

Skye stroked Jesse's hair. "I'm sorry it must have been scary for you."

"I wasn't scared. I don't get scared!" Jesse hesitated a moment. "Well, unless I fall off a cliff."

Skye dutifully acknowledged his bravery. "It was just a lot of words. We weren't happy with each other. We should have handled it better, but no one got hurt."

"Dylan wouldn't hurt you." Jesse's tone was serious.

"Oh, I know, I was talking about me hurting him." Skye tickled Jesse, and they laughed. Skye changed the subject, "Hey, how about a muffin?"

When Jesse enthusiastically nodded, she plated one each for him and herself.

Around a mouthful, Jesse said, "Wade said something stupid."

"Um, imagine that. What did he say?"

"He said you're the other side of Dylan, and he doesn't know it yet." Jesse laughed, choked on his muffin and took a drink of his water. "Isn't that the stupidest thing you ever heard?"

Skye didn't answer. Instead, she laid her chin on her hand and stared at the door Dylan had walked out. She'd tried to stifle whatever she and Dylan felt for each other and for a good reason. The world was in chaos, their lives were in turmoil, with all the threats surrounding them each day could be their last.

But she could make those same arguments for them to allow their feelings freedom. And Skye was pretty sure where that freedom would take them. At least on her side. She'd never felt this deeply about anyone.

Wade wasn't as stupid as Jesse thought.

Life could be short or long, just like it always had been. Whatever it was, she wanted to spend it with Dylan.

She'd put her heart on hold long enough. Now she needed to figure out how to get that stubborn man to come to his senses too.

Twenty

Crazy Out of his Mind

Wade was aware he didn't know much about emotions, but he did remember the first time he fell in love. He'd been confused and terrified as a demented bear. No one wanted to be around him.

Wade hadn't even understood what the emotion was. He'd never felt anything so pure and light before, and it sat oddly within him. For him, love came wrapped in hurt, anger, and pain. Without those, Wade hadn't known what to call it.

Crazy, out of his mind, and out of control, is how he felt. The restraint that took so much to hang on to was gone, and he'd found himself doing stupid things, good and bad, to please the woman holding his affection. It had deeply frightened Wade. He imagined Dylan was going through this now, and he pitied his little brother.

Wade saw this coming for a while. From the moment the world changed, from the moment the girl Dylan dragged him to town for a peek at showed up on the side of the road. Once that girl climbed in the big, red truck, she wasn't going anywhere. Wade knew it. Dylan couldn't let her.

The two of them pushed and pulled, toward and away from each other ever since. With Dylan as confused as Wade had been.

Wade pushed aside a low tree branch and started through the tree line, shaking his head. The difference was Dylan had found himself a good woman.

Maybe when people came from a background like theirs, this love thing came over a person worse. He didn't know, but what he did know was that he needed to talk with his brother.

Wade followed Dylan's trail. Even though he wasn't as skilled at tracking as Dylan was, he got by. And Dylan wasn't hiding his tracks today. He found his brother sitting on a large, old log, picking at his crossbow. Dylan lifted his head and stared at him.

"Hey, brother." Wade greeted him, scraping his foot against the forest floor. It was a bit awkward now he stood face to face with Dylan. "I just came out here to see how you were doin."

"Yeah, I heard you comin since you hit the tree line."

Wade scoffed. He looked back the way he'd come, hoping that wasn't actually the case, though he wouldn't have been surprised if it was. He cleared his throat and repeated, "Well, I just thought I'd see how you're doin, is all."

Dylan snapped his answer. "I know what you came out here for, and I ain't hearin it."

"Okay, sure. I'll just keep company then, sit a spell." Wade lowered himself to the other end of the log. He launched into a detailed explanation of a new waste compost he wanted to build.

After a while, Wade's jabbering had the desired effect, Dylan heaved a great sigh. "Just say what you came out here to say."

A smile lit up Wade’s face. He had some fine big brother advice. Wade told Dylan how his first love made him feel and how, even if she hadn't been wrong for him, he would've messed it all up because he didn't know what he was doing. When Dylan responded, it was not the way Wade expected.

"Wade, what does that have to do with me?" Dylan waved his hand, dismissing the story.

Wade sat back. "Cause, you got feelings for that girl. She's got you all confused and riled up."

Dylan scoffed. "I ain't confused. I care about her, same as you do. Same as I do for Jesse." Dylan shook his head. "That's not the part I'm riled up about. And she ain't a girl to be trifled with, it'd mess up the whole family."

Wade threw his head back, laughing. "You think you're feelin this bad because of a lack of birds and bees action. Oh no, D, you know better than that. You're in love with that girl."

Dylan turned away. "Even if I were, it wouldn't matter. It's like you said way back in the beginning, she ain't for me."

Wade ran a hand over his chin. "If that was true then, it ain't now. Everything's changed. If you want that girl and she wants you, then it seems to reason, she's for you."

"Thought you heard that fight." Rude, moronic brute still rang through Dylan's mind. "Didn't you hear her? She don't want me."

"Umph, we talkin bout the same girl here, bro? Since when did a little name-calling get ya down?" Wade chuckled. "Maybe she was just trying out a little love talk on ya."

Wade's attempt to lighten the mood worked, and though Dylan scoffed at him, he smiled.

Wade patted Dylan's arm. "You waited a while to find yourself a woman. And Skye, she's a good one. She's good for you, good for us all. Somehow we ended up with a little family, and I like it. This is the best we've ever had it." Wade stared at Dylan. "I know this must be hitting ya pretty hard. It seems strange and almost wrong, but it ain't. She and that boy are one of the few rights we've had. Don't blow this. We need her."

Dylan gave his brother a long look before getting up and walking deeper into the trees, heading for his forest sanctuary.

* * *

Dylan knew Wade was right about one thing. This was the best they've had it, maybe that's why he was afraid to face what he felt and try for more. But he and Skye needed to do something. Friends wasn't working -- it wasn't working at all.

So that meant Skye leaving. Which made her angry, and he rejected as soon as he suggested it or...

Dylan heaved a sigh, attempting to release the tight band around his chest. He ran a hand over his face. If everything else was out of the question, he must do the only thing left.

Well, he would try and see where it took them.

Dylan bit his lips together a few times and looked to the treetops. After the way he left her, she might never talk to him again. He had no choice but to do whatever it took to get back in her good graces.

He only hoped he could.

Twenty-One

A Different Man

Calvin whistled as he walked back to the car from his bathroom break at the side of the road. He knew they were getting close. They had to be.

There were only three towns in this area, and they already visited two. The first one was deserted except for a few Sick ready to croak. So, they had helped them along to the great beyond and used them for target practice.

The next town had a few surviving healthy. The townsfolk had barricaded the village as if that would stop Calvin and his little gang. It only made the already angry Calvin angrier.

He, Pete, and Tony chased down those healthy and had a good, old time. One Calvin would remember for an age. They'd even left a few alive, in case he and his men wanted to revisit.

Calvin put a hand to his aching head, too much drinking last night had him suffering today. He walked over to the car, no running for him today.

His hand tightened on the car handle when he saw it. A green minivan identical to the make and model of one he used to own. Before.

Calvin's thoughts shot straight back to the Before. He stood beside his wife as they deliberated the car's merits. His beautiful Michelle, his sun, and moon. If she said a minivan was what they needed for their growing family, then a minivan was what they would get.

Ten years and four boys later, the girl Michelle dreamed of finally arrived. That lovely little girl so full of light and energy was the first to waste away from this horrifying disease. None of his loved ones went easily, each turned into their own kind of pitiable monster.

After watching all her children pass, Michelle's grief turned inward. She became a shell of a person even before her first cough. She'd looked at Calvin, her tear-filled eyes wide, and said she was sorry. From that moment to the moment she closed her eyes for the last time, she cried. To this day, Calvin didn't know what she apologized for.

Calvin watched over every one of them, taking in any frightened, pain-filled look and each cry of confusion and despair. He tended to their every need. Because that is what good fathers did. They protected and cared for their families. Only, he reminded himself daily, he hadn't. It didn't matter to him that he couldn't. He failed, and they died.

When it was all over, Calvin was a different man. A maddened, hate-filled man, something his loving wife would never have recognized. The sight would have taken her to her grave if she hadn't already been there.

Every man still holding a wife or child became his enemy. As he sought peace from his pain, Calvin separated himself from the more polite society he was used to and found the unrestrained. People that would not only let him be the new man he was but took joy in his exploration. That was where he met Pete and Tony.

Calvin shook his head, tucking those memories of his family as far back into his brain as possible. Thoughts of Michelle could ruin his plans, and he didn't want them ruined. They were about an hour out of Colton. He held high hopes for it.

* * *

Frankie trudged to the bar as the black Lexus pulled up alongside him. Nowadays, he usually went to the tree line to watch the rare car pass by, trying to decide if its passengers were trouble or not, but today he had a powerful thirst. Frankie made a habit of stocking up the house with booze from one of the many nearby bars. But he failed to notice his dwindling supply and run totally out. And that would not do.

His gut twitched a little as he turned and looked at the car and the three men inside. Two of the men were definitely bruisers. Though he couldn't see it, Frankie would bet a bottle of rum at least one of them held a gun on him. The driver looked like a car salesman. Frankie would have dismissed him on sight, except for the hard glint in his eyes.

Frankie reckoned he was in this now and decided to play the good, ole boy. "Hey fellas, how can I help ya?"

The driver spoke, identifying himself as the brains of the group. "We've been looking for some friends of ours, with all the chaos we've lost touch. Could you help us out?"

Oh yeah, sure, your friends. Frankie barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "I'll sure help ya in whatever way I can."

"I'm looking for a woman that drives a sky-blue Jeep and has a kid with her, and two men in a big black Ford. Have you seen them around here?"

Frankie couldn't have been more surprised to hear those words come out of the man's mouth. Frankie's face gave him away, first with the startle then a hard scowl. He had a decision to make. He sized the men up again. These boys may be just what he needed to make things square with the Coles. "What do ya want them for?"

"We need to teach them a lesson," Calvin said a smirk on his face.

Frankie nodded.

The man in the backseat growled out, "The boy is mine."

"No," Frankie said, "the boy is mine. Literally."

Tony scowled. "He's fallen into some bad company."

"Yeah," Frankie agreed, "he has."

Calvin eyed the two. "Tony there is a little riled up. The boy cut him, and he isn't likely to walk right again."

"He did?" Frankie felt a bit of pride for the boy. He hadn't known the little pansy had it in him.

"Look," said Frankie leaning down on the car. "I pretty much know where they are, and I'm more than willing to help you. I want them erased from this earth, but the boy -- he is mine. They stole him from me, and when this is over, I want him alive and unharmed." He nervously glanced back at the hard-as-steel Tony when he growled. "Relatively. I guess you deserve to get a coupla licks in but no permanent damage."

Tony seemed somewhat appeased by Frankie's permission. And if a few shots at Jesse satisfied Tony, it was better than what the man initially intended. Besides, Jesse gave the man a life-long hurt, so he was owed a couple of licks. And if there was one thing his mama always said, it was that a boy needed a good beating now and then. Still, Frankie felt a bit queasy at the idea.

Calvin looked at Tony in the rearview mirror. Tony didn't reply, but he didn't object either. "Pete, squeeze in the back. We will let our new friend here ride shotgun."

Frankie slid into the front passenger's seat; sure his luck would change now. "Just one thing, I have a powerful thirst, and there's a bar just up the road a piece."

"Say no more, new friend!" Calvin said, "We are never opposed to a good drink, or two, or more. And we need to celebrate our new-found acquaintance. To the bar, it is!"

Frankie twisted down in his seat, getting comfortable. Yep, things were going his way now.

Twenty-Two

Salvation

It was one thing to resolve something in their hearts when away from the problem and another to open their problem when their heart was standing right in front of them. Dylan and Skye thought of a million ways to start this relationship, but every time lost the nerve to do so.

So, they stayed away from each other most of the day.

Dylan dragged himself back to the cabin that evening still undecided on what course to take. Skye made herself busy as soon as she heard Dylan's footsteps scuff across the wood porch. A quick glance at each other and an unspoken truce took place. No one said a word about the fight.

Skye gave Dylan the space she assumed he wanted and stayed on the other side of the room. But the one-room house was small, so they were still within sight, if not actual arm's length of one another at all times.

As the evening wore on, Dylan made his way to Skye's side of the room. He dropped down on the couch beside her and waited. When Skye didn't object to his presence, and Dylan settled in.

He glanced at Skye. She seemed happy. Here he sat picking at his nails, and she was lighting up the room with her smile.

It was clear Dylan was trying something new in their relationship. He was always attentive to her, but tonight he upped his game. After Skye unknowingly gave a small, helpless gesture struggling with a jar in the kitchen, he rushed to her side to help.

After opening the jar, Dylan and Skye returned to the couch. When he sat, he hauled in a huge breath and laid his arm across Skye's shoulders.

She stilled. Dylan waited only a moment for any reluctance on her part. When he was sure she was breathing again, he lowered his hand down Skye's back to her waist and pulled her closer to him.

Jesse's eye's widened, and so did his mouth. He was ready to burst until he got a soft whack and a stern shake of the head from Wade.

* * *

Skye's heart thundered at Dylan's touch. So many feelings raced through her, but the only thing she cared about was the fierce protection in Dylan's eyes. She glanced up at him from under her lashes, offering a radiant smile, showing Dylan her joy at the affection he showed.

Finally. The thought surprised Skye. It had been her who held back the relationship. She hadn't realized how much she yearned for this.

Skye snuggled a little closer to Dylan as talk swirled around her. She almost giggled. As was usually the case in a situation like this, everyone continued the conversation as if nothing unusual happened. Except for Jesse, he kept glancing their way, amusement covering his face. Skye caught his eye and gave the boy a wink. Jesse winked back and gave her a thumbs up.

After a while, Skye cleared her fuzzy head and paid attention to Dylan and Wade's conversation. Winter planning was the topic at hand. In this new reality, meals took intense preparation. A stocked pantry could take months to plan and execute.

The houses around them had been emptied out. In addition, some supplies were always difficult to find on the mountain. Fresh and frozen food was gone. Surrounding gardens had become thin, other than a late crop of root vegetables and the occasional overlooked squash.

Winter was on its way. They needed to go further out for the remaining supplies before it was too late. If they didn’t, they could starve. Personal feelings were wonderful, so was eating. The Cole household had been eating well. They wanted to keep it that way.

Skye looked from Dylan to Wade. "You don't think we're set for the winter? After all that canned food we found and the stuff we canned ourselves?" She waved toward the extra storage space the men built to hold it all.

"We have a lot of cans, no doubt about that," Wade said, "and with Dylan's hunting, we should be good. But it needs to last through the spring. Til we get a new garden going. I think we need to make a run to a big store or distribution center for some other things before winter comes."

Dylan nodded. "I'll ask around and see what'll be the best one to try. Someone might know somethin."

'I'll practice canning with the vegetables you brought in today,” Skye said. “I appreciate the training, but I want to try it by myself, so I'll be ready for next year."

"I wanna forage with Dylan tomorrow," Jesse said not wanting to be left out of the action. Skye smiled at Jesse. Stalking anything, beast or vegetable, in the forest with Dylan was fast becoming one of Jesse’s favorite things to do.

"Remember," Wade repeated the same instruction he gave with every fruit and vegetable they found, "when you’re chopping up the vegetables, keep the seeds." One of the problems they faced was that most seeds didn't reproduce properly anymore, so Wade hoped some of what they found were heirloom seeds.

Agriculture was new to Skye, and she had been unaware there was a difference between any kinds of seeds. But now she had been carefully educated that it was heirloom seeds most likely to give a dependable crop.

"Save the seeds, save the seeds," Jesse chanted as if it were a song. The adults laughed at his antics.

Dylan's deep laughter drew Skye's attention. Her gaze moved from Jesse to the man beside her. Their eyes met, Dylan's bold gaze holding hers until she blushed and looked away. His fingers tightened at her side.

Dylan changed the topic of conversation. "While I was out, I looked up the neighbors. No one in this area, has been sick or died in the last week or so. Maybe this thing is dying down a bit."

"That would be wonderful!" Skye said.

Casualties well over the seventy percent predicted by Disease Control had decimated the mountain. And it was better off than the towns. Those on the mountain had done everything they could to protect themselves from those infected. It led to some ingenious arrangements for helping others.

Skye had never seen such generous people. They shared help and supplies, often letting each other know where a needed item could be located.

When Skye mentioned this must be what it was like in the early days of the settlers, Dylan assured her it was always this way on their mountain.

When it seemed the essential issues were discussed, Skye quietly asked Dylan if they could speak on the front porch. Dylan nodded and grabbed a blanket. Once they were seated on the porch, he carefully wrapped it around Skye to keep the chill air off her.

Skye's stomach fluttered as she gazed up at Dylan and was pulled into the dark-blue depths of his eyes. She was content with that, was all she could endure really. Her hearing narrowed to the two of them, every thump of her heart, every breath he took.

Jesse's voice floated through the log walls. "What are they doing out there?"

Skye and Dylan laughed, breaking their gaze.

"So," Skye said with a shy smile as she traced a nameless pattern on her jeans, "I guess we've moved past friends."

"I believe we have," Dylan said with a serious tone.

Skye gave a nervous giggle.

He continued, "It's what you want, Skye, right? I can handle it if it's not. I reckon I'd rather have the part of you I can than nothin at all."

Skye nodded. "It’s what I want."

Her green eyes shone with happy, unshed tears. "But we need to talk. There are things in my past you need to know. Things making this harder for me than it should be."

Some movement or sound that Dylan made, Skye wrongly interpreted as irritation. Quickly, she said, "This isn't about you." Skye winced.

Her heart dropped, worried Dylan would mistake her meaning. And she was right. Dylan tensed and bolted to his feet, but Skye was faster.

Skye grabbed his bicep with both hands and pulled, stopping him. Dylan watched her hands slide slowly down his arm, past his elbow, his forearm and wrist to take his hand in her two small ones. She tugged his hand to her stomach and held it there, giving him no choice but to return to his seat beside her.

"No, listen! I know you think it is, but it's not. You are affected by my problems. But this problem started a long time ago. You- you aren't my problem. You are my salvation."

Twenty-Three

Family

Skye shivered. It had nothing to do with the chill, night air, and everything to do with her strong emotions. Dylan pulled the plaid blanket up higher on her neck.

Skye grabbed his hand back, needing an anchor of reassurance. Worried what she needed to say would make him want to leave her again. She tightened her grasp, and though it made no difference to his strong hand, her own knuckles whitened. Uncertain of his reaction, her anxiety got the best of her. She quietly cleared her throat.

Seeing her distress, Dylan turned toward her, laying his other hand on top of hers.

Skye looked up at him, gave a sharp chuckle, and rolled her eyes at her inability to start her story. She took a moment to lay her forehead against Dylan's arm, and he patiently waited until she was ready. Finally, she blew out a long breath and began to speak.

"I was married before, did I tell you that?"

Dylan was calm. "Okay."

Skye looked down at the old wooden floor of the porch. "It was right out of high school, literally, just two weeks after we graduated. We were young and crazy. We were going to be in the same college, and thought we would be together forever. Why wait? Why not start now?" Skye's lips turned down. "Obviously, forever didn't happen."

Dylan didn't make much more than a grunt before he said, "I'm glad, or I wouldn't be sittin here with you right now."

Her eyes flew to his, and she smiled. Skye raised a hand and stroked his stubbled face with her thumb before lowering her hand to his again.

"Me too. Because I'm with you, and also because I'm sure I would be dead by now. My ex wasn't all that great of a protector." Skye uttered a small, bitter laugh before she went on. "He wasn't involved in the college... incident, but of course it affected him too." Skye hated bringing this up, but it was the beginning of everything. "The one and only stipulation my family allowed the college was that I had to leave it, couldn't even step foot on the campus. And since we were married..."

"He had to leave too."

"Yes, and he had a ton of friends at that college, played ball. He was very involved, and he bitterly resented leaving. I told him to stay, and I meant it. I was the one who had made a mess of everything. But he didn't, he followed me to the next college. After we left, nothing was the same for him, which he rightly blamed on me."

Dylan snorted derisively, but Skye didn't agree. "It was my fault, Dylan, without a doubt. About that at least, he was right."

Dylan squeezed Skye's hand, letting her know he would've stood beside her, been her rock.

Skye nodded and kissed his hand before continuing on. "So there he was blaming me for ruining his life. And I felt guilty about everything, as I should have. From her death to seeing my friend's go to jail while I got out of everything. Our parents wanted to ignore it ever happened and wouldn't let me talk about it. I was a mess. He was a mess. It was just all…”

"Yeah, I see that."

"I swore off alcohol and drugs, but now he was always partying. He was seldom home. I rarely left it. He got sick of me, started bringing girlfriends back. And I- I didn't even really care.”

Skye shifted in her seat. "One day, he came home high, and it turned into this big fight, and he hit me. Not that bad, but that is how low I was. When he hit me, I just let him. Then I walked into the bedroom, pulled the covers over my head, and went to sleep. After that, I started to provoke him, hoping he'd hit me because I hadn't suffered for what I'd done. It wasn't horrible, I wasn't on the floor bleeding, but he and I knew it was wrong, that something vital was broken with us."

Dylan put a hand to her chin and tipped Skye's face to his. He ran a finger down her hair, pushing it out of her face. "It's okay, Skye. You don't have to tell me."

"I do. I want you to know."

"Okay, then."

Her throat tightened. "It went on that way for a while, but I guess, one day I decided I'd been punished enough. Because, for the first time, I blocked him when he tried to hit me. Unfortunately, that was also a day that he was particularly wasted. He got angry, irate. That day I was on the floor."

Dylan's jaw clenched.

"When he left, I packed up my stuff and moved out. I never looked back."

"So, with my background, you're worried."

"Honestly, yes, at first. Odds are, it would be a problem. But now I know you would fight anyone, including yourself, to keep me from harm." Skye shook her head, causing her hair to fall back over her face. "No, I learned back then how I could be. I was so overwhelmingly depressed, weighed down with guilt. I made horrible decisions. I haven't trusted myself since. You deserve someone ready for a relationship, and I wanted to make sure that I was."

Dylan pushed Skye's hair back and peered at her. "You are. You're the most stable person I know."

Skye gave a wobbly smile. "I don't know about that, but I'm a different person. All that horribleness changed my life. It made me better. That's when I decided I wanted to help people. I changed from a self-absorbed, fashion diva into a responsible, considerate adult. It took a lot of work. You would not have liked that other Skye, not one bit."

"I would've," Dylan insisted.

"No," Skye laughed, "that first day? I know you now, you would have jumped in your truck and happily left her on the side of the road, instead of giving her a home."

He gave her a blank look. "What do ya mean?"

"You gave us a home, Dylan."

He scoffed. "I didn't do nothin."

Skye beamed at him. He was so completely unaware of what he'd done. "Dylan, it was you who gave me something I didn’t thing I would ever have again. I was so scared, so unsure of everything. You gave us a home. You were to one who decided to help me with Jesse that day. You brought us here and took care of us, are still teaching us what we need to know. You gave us warmth and comfort in this cold, harsh world. You made us a family."

* * *

It shook Dylan. He just did what he thought he should do, what needed done. He hadn't realized what it really meant. That all along, he'd been making the very thing he'd been yearning for -- his own family.

Dylan looked down at Skye's smiling face with a new understanding of himself. His chest warmed as she said the words he had been waiting for.

"You have been my salvation, in so many ways. You made this family, Dylan, and you made us. You and me. However far you want to take us is up to you."

A slow grin lightened Dylan's face, but his voice became deep and raspy. "Let me show you how far I want to take us, darlin’.”

Dylan released Skye's hands and wrapped his arms around her. He drew her tight, holding her as if he was afraid to ever let go. Dylan's heart felt as if it would burst, but it was somehow a wonderful feeling.

Any remaining doubt faded as Skye's answering embrace reassured him that she meant every word she said.

Raising a hand to the back of her neck, Dylan pulled away, releasing her enough to peer deep into Skye's green eyes and gauge her reaction to his words. Love is what Dylan saw there, love and acceptance. Everything he had ever wanted. He slowly lowered his lips to hers, savoring every second of the journey.

And he thought, finally.

Twenty-Four

Tomorrow It Is

When Dylan and a slightly rosy Skye came back into the cabin, they got a thumbs up from Wade and a suspicious look from Jesse, but the awkwardness was short-lived. Wade was on the radio with Tom.

Skye rushed to the radio and pushed the button. "Tom, when are you two coming up here to stay?"

"I'm working on things, but there are people who need us here too. It's hard to know when we can get away."

"Bring them too, there are places for everyone. At least come for the winter. It will be safer." Skye listed all the reasons life on the mountain was better. She ended with, "And I miss you both!"

Tom laughed. Skye's list was quite lengthy, but she had some excellent points. "We miss you too. I'll talk to the others and see what they think about it."

Skye's shoulder slumped when they said their goodbyes. Tom hadn't committed to anything once again.

She sighed and picked up the shopping list she'd started earlier. It was getting longer and longer. She dropped into a seat at the kitchen table where the other sat.

Skye's brows knitted. When would Tom come up here? Colton seemed so much more dangerous than the mountain. She doodled along the edge of the paper as she worried. She squared her shoulders, worrying would do no good. Paper. They needed more paper. After writing it on the list, she looked over the plain white tablet. Skye added a hyphen and pretty. Pretty paper.

Skye glanced at Dylan and Wade as they discussed the route to the superstore the next day. What category would pretty paper fall in?

They divided the list into three categories. Most Important, Somewhat Important, and It Would Be Nice to Have. Wade and Dylan had been content with the first two. It was Skye and Jesse who wanted the third when they saw how sparse the men's anticipated needs were. And the fact that many of Skye and Jesse's requests were met with frowns.

Since the men were adamant about what went onto the first two categories, the third became a happy free-for-all for Skye and Jesse. As long as they ignored the scoffs and eye rolls directed their way. Jesse immediately named the toys and candies he dreamed about, while Skye added beauty regimen products she missed and desperately needed.

Wade and Dylan, so used to frugal living, felt even razors a complete luxury. When Skye added them to the Somewhat Important category, they objected.

"There ain't no way razors are that important. Move 'em to the Nice to Have," Wade insisted.

Skye disagreed. "They belong in Somewhat Important. I'm not saying to risk our lives for them. But if we can look for them, I say we get them."

“No, they ain't worth the trouble. I want to get in and out. A little hair never hurt anyone," Dylan said.

"Okay." Skye shook her head and pointed the two men. "Well, just remember that when I'm as bristly as the two of you." She erased razors from the list, moving it to the third column.

Dylan rubbed a hand over his somewhat hairy arm. He exchanged a look with Wade, who shrugged.

Dylan glanced at Skye with a smirk. "Keep it where it is."

Skye giggled. "Thought so."

Jesse leaned over Sky's shoulder. "Just remember my car kits."

Things on the Most Important list boiled down to gas, medicines, toilet paper, personal items, soaps, a few food staples, and first aid supplies. Along the way, they would check cars for gas. If they were fortunate, they would go past a filling station that still had fuel.

Tom had suggested they check out a superstore close to Fenton. Last he knew, there had been plenty of supplies left there. Tom warned, though, no one from his group had been there in the past month. It was possible another community came and cleared the store out.

Wade and Dylan didn't like going that far with Skye and Jesse coming along, but the superstore seemed the most likely place, and they needed everyone's help.

"I'm thinkin we should take all three vehicles and really load up," Wade said, "If we get more than we can use, we can always pass some items on to the others up here."

"We can get another car, and I can drive!" Jesse eagerly volunteered, his eyes lighting up at the thought of practicing his driving skills.

Skye rejected his plan. "You can drive some but not alone."

Jesse's whole body sagged. "Aw, you are no fun!"

"Actually, that you drive at all makes us very fun." Skye gently pinched Jesse's cheek as he rolled his eyes.

"I would rather you two stayed here or at Tom's," Dylan said, "but Wade's right. The more we get in one trip, the better."

"So when do we go?" Skye asked.

"According to the Farmer's Almanac, the weather is clear tomorrow," Wade said.

Dylan nodded. "Well then, if the morning breaks fine, tomorrow it is."

The sun rose the next morning lending a molten-yellow glow to the tree-covered mountain. Skye peeked out the bathroom window as she slipped on her jeans and t-shirt. With a nervous smile, she grabbed a hoodie and tied up her hair. It was exciting to see what the rest of the world was like. But Skye tried to temper the feeling. It could also be dangerous, and she would have to keep a sharp eye out.

Wade and Dylan got in their trucks. Skye climbed into her Jeep, Jesse beside her in the passenger's seat. She peered over at Dylan in his black pickup and sent him a warm smile. He winked back. Skye's arms felt empty. I should've hugged him before we left. He probably wouldn't think to do it. It's something I need to remember to do, especially on a day like this.

The drive down the curved roads was beautiful each turn offered a new view of the forest and mountains. Dappled light raced across the Jeep's windshield. Skye squinted at the green valley below. This might be the last time down the hill until spring, so she soaked it all in. "Pretty, huh?"

"Yeah." Jesse lowered the window, letting the crisp wind tousel their hair. A hawk swooped in front of them letting out a sharp call as if he scolded them for trespassing.

Skye glanced at Jesse as he tipped his head back onto the seat and inhaled the earthy aroma. The boy loved the forest. It was something he often talked about even when he was still with his dad. There was something it did for him, something deep inside. He couldn't name it, but it made him feel good even when things were bad.

The forest thinned as they neared Colton. Skye and Jesse eagerly scanned the town. It seemed quiet, like any other sleepy little village.

Until the spate of gunfire shattered the silence.

Twenty-Five

If You Stay

Dylan tensed at the sound of gunfire. When Skye slowed her Jeep, he raced up and around her, tires squealing. Dylan rolled down his window. “Get back up the mountain! Get back up that mountain now!"

Skye lowered her window, her finger white and numb as she mashed the button. "Dylan, they might need our help!"

"Wade and I will go. You go on up there now!"

"No! Dylan, I can help! We can help. I'm not leaving you down here!"

"Skye darlin, don't fight me on this. You need to get that boy up the mountain."

Several emotions crossed her face, but he won the battle the minute he mentioned Jesse. She would always keep the boy safe.

"Dylan." Skye weighted his name with her passionate plea for him to be careful, to come back to her. "I love you."

Dylan's gaze locked on hers. He swallowed a few times so he could say something, anything over the lump in his throat.

A soft smile covered her pink lips, and her eyes softened. "I know." She made a U-turn and headed back the way they came.

A warmth spread over Dylan's chest as he watched Skye drive to safety. Then he chuckled. Jesse's mouth had dropped open, and his eyes gone wide at Skye's words. This was all as new to the boy as it was to him.

Another spate of gunfire grabbed Dylan's attention. He turned right on the first street he came to and searched the yards. Wade followed him in the red truck. Once Dylan found what he was looking for, he spun into a driveway. He jumped out of his vehicle and ran to a tall tree. A white treehouse sat in it, a long rope ladder hanging from its mini hand-railed porch.

Wade was right on his heels. "Smart! Good thinkin, bro."

At the top, they scanned the neighborhood. "Looks like we're on the right side of this fight anyhow."

Dylan pointed out the far side of the small town where some men herded the Sick. Other men, he assumed Infected, shot towards townsfolk. The closer side of the battle was only a couple of streets from where Dylan and Wade stood in the treehouse. The people of Colton were fighting back.

"Looks like these Infected found out how to use the Sick to their advantage too," Wade said.

"Looks like." Dylan's heart sank. The numbers of the Infected were far more than the inhabitants of Colton. The odds weren't good.

"You see Tom?" Dylan scanned the fighters. "I got him. Well, let's go down and see if we can help out at this party."

"Now you’re talkin." Wade clapped his hands and rubbed them together.

Relief covered Tom's face when he spied them walking toward him, but his words didn't agree. "You should just turn around and head back up that mountain."

"Skye would kill us if we did that," Dylan said.

Tom tipped his head to the enemy. "They’re gonna kill you if you stay."

Dylan squared his shoulders. "So be it,"

"Enough of this talk," Wade said with a gleeful tone. "Let's crack some skulls!"

"Well, you two up our odds considerably. Having you here is like having another mini army."

"Are you done stroking our pride?" Wade pointed to the battle. "Whatcha got cooking?"

Tom raked his fingers through his hair. "We're barely treading water here. We need to keep them from getting any further into town. They've already murdered two families on their way in before we could stop them. There were kids, and they just mowed them down like they were nothin."

Wade bowed his head and shook it. "Those Infected -- they don't care. Everything, everyone is nothin to them. My bet is they are just hellbent on destruction. Destroy this town and everyone in it."

"They’re dyin anyway. Dyin in battle is a quicker, easier way for them to go," Dylan added.

"Regardless," Tom said, "We've only got one plan. Stop them by any means necessary." He waved over a few of his men and began to outline his plan as the others continued to fight. "The sound of their bullets are driving the Sick our way. We need to take them down."

A couple of the men mumbled, uncomfortable with what needed to be done. Tom reassured them. "You are all deputized. Shoot them wherever you want as long as they stop moving. We have to stop them. Our family’s lives are at stake! Do what you need to do to survive. Defend your wives and children. Those Sick and Infected are out to murder you and your loved ones.”

The Colton fighters began to make headway in pushing the central column of the enemy back. The enemy fell, some unconscious or dead, some rolling in pain.

More than once, Dylan winced as his shot found a mark. His stomach twisted tighter with each hit. Even if they were the aggressors, it was difficult knowing he caused their pain or worse. Did trained soldiers feel this way, or was it drilled out of them?

The Infected had no problems shooting to kill, and Colton men went down. There was no choice. The enemy had no mercy for them, they could offer none in return.

Flames erupted at two of the houses on the far side of town. The Infected threw a torch into the third. Beside Dylan, Tom cursed under his breath. Would there be a town left by the time this battle was done?

A bullet zipped past Dylan. Close enough the air stirred as it passed. There was a wail of agony as the shot found a mark. Turning, Dylan saw a young father, rolling on the ground in pain. Someone ripped off the bottom of their shirt and pushed it to the bleeding wound. Dylan pressed his lips together a few times. It would be of little use, the man had little time left.

Dylan turned at Tom's bellow. While they were fighting the central column of Infected, a second band made their way around to Colton's side. The Infected moved toward the men's ranks, taking down those Tom stationed there.

They also cut off Tom's way back home, back to Tricia.

Tom gasped as he looked back at his house where he'd left his wife. "I thought she'd be safe there."

Dylan scanned the streets and yards. There had to be a way a few of them could get through the battle line to Tricia. But if there was, he didn't see it.

What Dylan did see was a sky-blue Jeep screech around the corner. It knocked Sick and Infected out of the way, as it raced to Tricia's house.

Dylan's heart stopped when Skye blared the horn and every one of their enemies turn to the sound.

Twenty-Six

A Chance

Skye had headed back up the mountain, against her own inclinations, and against the desperate pleas of Jesse.

"Enough, Jesse! Dylan's right, we need to keep you safe!"

"But Mom! What if we lose them?"

A knot formed in Skye's stomach. "What if I go back down there, and I lose all of you?"

"At some point, Mom, that's a chance you're gonna have to take."

"Not today." Even as Skye spoke, the car was slowing.

"Mom, the way things are goin, we're gonna have to take a stand or everything, and everyone is gonna be gone."

The knot twisted. "We can't be part of a battle. Neither of us know anything about that. We’d be more of a hazard than a help." Skye ran a hand down her face. "We'll find a place to watch, then maybe we'll see another way to help."

Skye and Jesse went further up the road until they found a little pull-off. From there, they could see the town and the battle below. Skye suddenly wished they couldn't see it. She spotted Dylan, saw the war raging around him, and felt sick. Skye covered her mouth to hold in the gasps and small sobs, especially when someone behind Dylan went down, writhing in agony. "Jesse, I can't watch this!"

"Mom, look!" Jesse pointed to two young children, their small forms bent, their blond heads huddled toward one another. They clutched hands as they ran down an evacuated outer street. The children zig-zagged from one side of the road to the other, looking for help.

Skye shoved the car in gear. She sped to the little children. When she reached them, Skye slammed on the brakes, jumped out of the Jeep and threw them into the back seat.

The little ones wailed as Skye drove back out of town despite her assurances. Before she got far, Jesse pointed out more stranded people. A mother holding a baby frantically flagged them down.

Skye raced to the mother, and waved her in. Noticing the absence of vehicles anywhere in the area, Skye asked her, "Where are all the cars?"

The young woman patted one of the crying children as she jostled her baby. "When this started, the cars were moved to the other side of town for a blockade. No one guessed the Infected would get this far. Now they're coming, and we're all stuck here." She pointed out an elderly couple tottering down their driveway clearly hoping for a rescue.

Skye started toward the older couple. "Put the little ones in the cargo so we can fit them in." Once she picked the couple up, she shouted to another family that she would come back for them.

Skye raced up the mountain to the overlook’s parking lot and let everyone out before heading back down. She and Jesse made trip after trip. Skye focused on driving while Jesse searched for stranded people.

Once the word got out someone was rescuing them, more and more people appeared. After a while, the stream of people slowed. Skye and Jesse sat in the Jeep, making sure there was no one else.

Skye tapped her finger on the steering wheel. "Where's Tricia? Why wasn't she with them?"

"Maybe she's with Tom," Jesse said.

"Maybe." Tricia knew how to shoot well enough Tom may have thought she could help, especially since Colton's side was short on numbers. Still, Skye worried. She moved the car closer to Tricia's house, watching for any movement.

When the fight moved closer to her friend’s house, Skye saw gunfire coming from the second story window. "She's in there, Jesse! We have to get her out!"

Skye studied the area around Tricia's house. The Infected fought Colton men on the left. Skye's problem would be the Sick scattered around the neighboring yards.

"Jesse, hang on! I'm going for it!" Skye floored the Jeep, screeched around the corner and up Tricia's drive. She blared the horn and winced. It might be a mistake, but she needed Tricia down here as soon as possible.

The enemy was already coming for them.

Tricia raced out the front door, a rifle in her hands and her long red hair flying behind her. Skye held her breath as one of the Sick turned to follow her cousin-in-law.

"Mom, look!" Jesse screeched. Skye turned to see a boy, about Jesse's size, running toward the car. A Sick right on his trail. Jesse put his hand to his door handle.

Skye reached for him. "Jesse, no! You stay here. I'll go."

"I'm closer." With that, he was gone. Skye scrambled at her door, seeming to pull at everything but the door handle, fighting her way out just as Tricia slid into the seat behind her.

"Jesse!" Skye shouted.

"Where?" Tricia asked.

"There." Already surrounded by the Sick, Jesse dragged the terrified boy back to the car. "I don't have -- I don't have a weapon other than a knife."

"I have my gun," Tricia yelled as the women jumped out of the car and raced toward Jesse. "If they get close, shove them." At Skye's disbelieving glance, Tricia said, "I know it sounds crazy, but it works. The Sick ones, once they're down, they take a while to get back up."

Skye nodded. When Skye reached the horde, she shoved her way through them. Tricia used her rifle like a bat usually taking down more than one with each swing.

Skye pushed through tangled limbs and misshapen bodies, using her knife against those attacking her.

The Sick fought going down. But Tricia was right, once they were, they struggled to regain footing. This opened a way out for Jesse.

Jesse broke out of the ever-growing horde still holding onto the boy. One of the Sick reached out and grabbed at Jesse with its claw-like hand. The boys struggled to hold onto each other, but unbalanced, both fell.

Skye's heart was in her throat when she saw Jesse drop. The Sick rushed them. One of the Sick dragged the other boy, kicking and screaming, across the grass.

Everything slowed for Skye. What seemed like minutes was really only seconds,. Strangely though, sounds remained the same. Skye willed her feet to move, but she couldn't go fast enough.

"Skye!" Dylan's called to her. Skye searched and found him rushing toward her. Through the smoky, crowded battle Dylan appeared, disregarding his own danger, his eyes fixed on her.

He tore through the fight, taking a shot when necessary, stabbing with his knife occasionally, but not slowing for anyone or anything.

Dylan reached her, grabbing her arm as Skye grasped him. Each needing some sort of touchstone in the middle of all the chaos.

"Jesse!" Skye's ragged sob told Dylan what he already knew. There was only one reason she would be here fighting this hard.

Jesse cried out. Skye and Dylan sped to him, Tricia at their side. Skye pushed at the Sick and used her knife when she necessary.

The three of them made a hole through the crowd of Sick and found Jesse. Dylan pulled him from the pile. His hands gripped the boy as he wildly whispered it would be okay in Jesse's ear. Tricia reached the other child and rushed him back to the car ahead of the rest of them.

The Sick were on Skye and Dylan's heels. Dylan pushed Jesse to Skye. The boy's hands dug into her arm as she hurried him along.

Dylan's rifle roared more than once. Then the crack of the rifle butt bashing skulls sounded behind them.

Tricia shoved the boy she rescued in the car, leaped in and held the door open for the others. Dylan shoved Skye and Jesse into the waiting seat, then headed to the driver's side. The Sick trailed him. He slammed the door shut as their ungainly bodies hit the side of the vehicle. Their bloody spit smearing the windows.

Skye wrapped both arms around Jesse. He shook almost uncontrollably. "I'm not sorry," he mumbled, "I needed to save him."

"I know, baby, I know," Skye crooned, staring over the boy's head at Dylan. He took a second to glance from the tangle of Sick he drove through to her. Skye's wide, tear-filled eyes shared the thought swirling through her head.

We don’t know if Jesse is immune.

Twenty-Seven

One Piece

Another dull thump against the front of the Jeep brought Dylan's attention back to his driving. He honestly didn't care if he was shoving the Sick out of the way or running them over, but still, he made almost no headway.

The Sick surrounded the car at least three deep. Some Infected ran from the battle toward them, weapons drawn.

The Sick worked themselves up into a frenzy, their angry fists pounding the windows. Skye hovered over Jesse.

"Oh, Dylan." Skye's tone held a quiet desperation.

Dylan shot her a glance and a quick shake of his head. Skye thought she would lose everyone she loved today. That wasn't going to happen. "It's okay. We'll think of --"

"I have something!" Tricia fumbled with her jacket pockets. "I grabbed it as I flew down the stairs." She thrust her hand up between the two front seats. In Tricia's hand was a flash-bang.

Dylan let out a relieved chuckle. "If I didn't already have me a woman, I'd take you on, Tricia."

"Oh, you sweet talker, you say that now,"

Dylan rolled down his window as much as he dared. Even so, hands grasped and pulled at him. He yanked his arm away and threw the explosive as far to the front of the Jeep as possible.

It sailed over the Sick's heads. The noise and light startled the horde, and they quickly moved away from the source of it. It created a pathway for Dylan.

He took advantage of it and gunned the Jeep. Tires spun, and smoke drifted over the car before it took hold and jolted forward.

Jesse's eyes widened as they raced through the Sick. "I never seen them so close. They're disgusting." He wrinkled his nose at their foamy mouths and noses, bloodstained clothing and dirt-covered bodies.

"Look at that one over there," said the boy Jesse rescued. Jesse climbed into the back seat, and the boys pointed out the grossest examples to each other.

Skye whispered to Dylan, "Maybe we should keep them separated."

Dylan's heart sank. "Skye, whatever's gonna happen now, is gonna happen. They both -- they both got exposed, nothing we do now is gonna stop anything."

Skye's lip quivered. She caught it between her teeth as she turned her head to look out the side window. Dylan took her hand in his hoping he gave her some sort of comfort.

Tricia watched the two of them and smiled. "So, you got yourself a woman now, do ya, D?"

"Yep, you're fresh outta luck, Trish," Dylan laughed.

Trisha returned his laughter. "D, we've been runnin around together since babyhood. You always felt more like a brother to me. I'm real happy for the two of you!"

"Thanks, Tricia, that means a lot." Skye tightened her hold on Dylan's hand and smiled. But Skye was still shaken, and when a tear landed on Dylan's hand, he wasn't surprised.

"Hey, it's all over," he reassured her, "We're all safe now. You did good, real good."

"It's not over, and you know it," Skye said as they pulled into the parking lot where the rescued group watched the battle below. A battle still in full swing. "You're going to order me to stay here while you go back down there."

When they left the car and saw the chaos below, he reached for Skye, but he didn't answer. There was nothing for him to say. She was right.

Skye pulled her hands away and tightly wrapped her arms around herself. "I almost lost everything down there, and you want to go back. How can I watch you do that?"

Dylan took a step toward her and gently ran his hands up and down her arms as he stared into her eyes. "They need me. It'll be okay. I'll be back. I promise."

"You can't make that promise."

"I'll do everything I can to make it back here in one piece. That I can promise." Dylan gave her a little tug so she would let go of herself and wrap her arms around him.

Skye allowed it, snuggling against him for a moment. Then she stepped away. "Go. Leave now before I don't let you go."

Dylan yearned for her, to draw her back, and feel her warmth against him again. But if he did, he wouldn't want to go either. Dylan gave her a slow nod and walked toward the car. When he looked back over his shoulder, Dylan saw her staring back at him. Skye's lip was caught between her teeth. She was trying to be strong for him.

Dylan never had anyone care about him this much before. His chest ached as he moved away. Would this always be the way of it? Him walking away, leaving her crying.

One thing that comforted Dylan was that she had the knowledge to take care of herself now if need be. He’d given her that. A month or two ago, he would have been sure his death would mean hers, but she had proven herself. If the worst happened to Wade and him, Skye and Jesse had the cabin and knew how to care for all of Wade's off-the-grid equipment. They could trap, and fish as well as scavenge. They would go on.

A few of the adults volunteered to go back down for the fight. The trip back down was solemn. These people were not warriors, and they were frightened. They would have walked away from homes, but there were still people trapped in the town. Some of them were friends, some family, but all needed out. They were determined to help them.

When Dylan reached the battle, to his surprise, it had swung to the town's favor. Many of the Infected were zip-tied and lying face down in the grass beside a box truck. A few deputies still chased stragglers trying to run off.

Seeing Dylan, Tom asked, "Tricia?"

"Up at the overlook. Skye got a bunch of people up there out of the way. I left the kids with some adults up there for safekeeping. Can't say I mind just turnin around to head back up and get them. What happened here?"

"When you caused all that ruckus getting out of here, it divided the Infected. We got a jump on them."

When all was accounted for Colton had lost half its inhabitants, which had been meager to begin with. Some had been murdered by the Infected, two had died in the fires, and many had been bitten by the Sick.

All of those bitten had survived the airborne AgFlu, but no one was sure what happened to those who survived that infection but were bitten. Tom was willing to wait it out and see, but the townspeople clamored in fright. They decided to take those bitten to the containment center along with the Infected and Sick. More than likely, they were now doomed to a long, painful illness before the relief of death. But if they somehow survived, they would be welcomed back.

Dylan and Skye offered to stay to help clean up, but Tom refused them. "You go on ahead to the store. That's important too. The weather is bound to turn soon. Mind if I send a couple of people up with you? Might as well get some things we've been needin too."

Dylan readily agreed. "The more people have with us, the better."

Tom nodded and put a hand to his hip. "And Skye, I'm gonna talk to the town, but I'm thinking it's past time for us to move up to Cole's Mountain.

Twenty-Eight

Close

Tom sent two townsmen, Aaron and Curt Williams, with Dylan's group. African-American, brothers, and part-time deputies, the men had grown up in that vague region that was neither mountain nor town. They and their family had always liked by both communities.

Since Aaron and Curt's cars were stuck in the town's blockade, they took Dylan's old truck. The two would look for another vehicle on the way. Jesse and Wade drove Skye's Jeep so Jesse could practice, and Dylan and Skye went in his new truck.

Dylan glanced at Skye's worried face. Jesse's close call was still on her mind. "Surely, the boy's been exposed to this before, at school or in town."

"Or even my office. Yes, I know, that's what I keep telling myself. Jesse had to be. But if somehow, he wasn't --. Once we brought him to your mountain, he was separated from anyone who could infect him. If he somehow hasn't been exposed -- oh Dylan, he's at risk."

Dylan gripped the steering wheel tighter. "No use overthinking this. It'll just get you upset. We'll just keep an eye on him, is all. We'll know soon enough."

"How are we going to know? It can take a year to get full symptoms."

"Tom told me those who are infected know they are."

"That's what Anna Lynn said too. She said they will get one or two mild symptoms that don't go away before it becomes a full-blown condition."

"Well, like I said, no sense over thinkin it."

Skye bit her lip and stared out the window.

"Hey." When Skye glanced at him, he looked down at the hand he held out to her. Skye laid her small arm on top of his larger one and clasped his hand. "Odds are he'll be just fine. No worryin til ya know what you've got to worry about. Besides, you'll freak the kid out. You know how well he reads you."

"I know you’re right. I'll work on it."

The drive to the store seemed uneventful after the fight at Colton. They saw a few wandering Sick but none that threatened them even when the group stopped at a few trucks and filled up gas cans.

When the group got closer, Wade signaled them to stop at a hill overlooking the store. They studied the surroundings before driving down to the store's parking lot. It seemed Tom was right, the place looked deserted. There was only a few empty cars scattered the lot along with several items that had been dragged from the store and left in the sun.

"Well," Wade said to Aaron and Curt, "looks like you have your pick of vehicles."

"Sure does." Aaron squinted his eyes to get a better look, then pointed. "What is that thing down there?"

* * *

Calvin, Tony, Pete, and Frankie stood on the hill watching Skye and the others as they investigated the store below.

Calvin couldn't believe their luck. On their way to Colton, they saw the very Jeep and truck they were looking for pass by on the crossroads in front of them. Fortunately for him, the road was overgrown and hid them from Skye and her people. One more minute and they would have met right at the intersection.

It was perfect timing. After meeting up with Frankie, they had hit the bar he'd mentioned along with a few others, spending days in drink and relaxation. Now he and his men were all ramped up and ready for some action. Who comes waltzing by but the very people who would have the pleasure of their restlessness -- perfect timing indeed. It was time to show that woman and boy their place in this new world.

Calvin exchanged delighted looks with Pete and Frankie, but Tony eyes fixed on the boy. When Tony was like this, he reminded Calvin of a pit bull-shepherd mix he'd once owned, named Rocky. That dog was always pulling at the leash, ready to mix it up with any other animal out there.

But Rocky had a particular hatred for a yellow lab two doors down. When that lab walked anywhere within Rocky's sight or smell, Rocky tensed and stilled, eyes zeroed in on that dog and that dog alone. Fur stood all along the ridge of his back, and a low, barely perceptible growl came from his throat. If Rocky hadn't listened to Calvin so well, there would've been yellow lab dog guts all over the yard.

Calvin eyed Tony. He wasn't sure the man would listen as well as the dog. Tony had tracked the boy since they settled in this spot.

Calvin wasn't the only one who noticed. Frankie frowned and said, "No hurtin my boy!" wisely reneging on his invitation for Tony to give the boy a couple of licks. In Tony's current mood, a couple would be all it would take to do in the slight boy. Tony didn't respond.

Calvin approved. Good for Frankie, sticking up for his kid. A man should always take care of his family, no matter what. I hope the kid makes it.

Calvin glanced at Jesse before giving Frankie the once over. Taking in the father's hungover, haggard appearance, he doubted the guy had what it took to bring Tony down. Calvin would have looked forward to the match if there was more sport in it, but he could already see Frankie's crushing defeat.

Poor kid. What's coming for him isn’t going to be easy.

Twenty-Nine

Deserted

Skye and Curt took lookout, each looking down opposite sides of the road.

Dylan pulled her shoulder, "Hey, can you make out that thing there?"

"You have the best sight I've ever seen. If you can't, I doubt I can."

"Just see what you see." Dylan stepped behind her, extending his arm over her shoulder and pointing to what he was talking about.

It was a tall, red, slim structure. "To me, it looks like -- I don't know, perhaps a statue of some kind? But roughly made, like someone made it after, not before. Ask Jesse. He has the youngest eyes."

"Hey, Jesse, come over here and take a gander," Wade said. "Maybe your eyes are not all used up yet."

Jesse skipped to Wade's side. "There's holes in it."

Wade turned to Skye. "Put some binoculars on the list." Skye agreed. It was an excellent idea.

Dylan paced a little. "I don't like it. Means people are there, or have been there, for long enough to build that thing."

All eyes shifted from Dylan to Wade, waiting for him to offer his opinion. "Yeah, but they could be gone. Or it could just be a couple people down there."

"Or it could be twenty or thirty.”

"Naw. We'd see that many."

"Maybe not, it's a big store." Dylan threw out his arm. "We got the woman and boy with us. It's too big a chance. We don't need this stuff that bad."

Skye bristled. ”Hey, don't use us as an excuse. We knew what we were getting into. We can handle it. And we do need that stuff."

Dylan stopped and stared at her. "Really? I know you don't want to put the boy in danger after what just happened in Colton. I can't watch all ya."

Irritation flared in Skye. "Can you have a little confidence in us? You're the one who's been training us after all."

Dylan strode over to Skye. "Well, it's my job to protect you."

"And it's ours not to need your protection one hundred percent of the time."

She put a hand to Dylan's chest. "I appreciate you wanting to do that, Dylan. But you can't --." Skye noticed the raised eyebrows and elbow nudges around the group. Their conversation entertained the group a little too much. "Okay, this is a conversation for another time. We are here now. We need this stuff, if at all possible. Is there somewhere closer we can watch the place?"

Dylan huffed and walked a few paces away.

Wade shrugged. "Not as good, but maybe good enough."

The group moved to the spot Wade suggested. While they could no longer see the entire square of the building, they did have a better view of the store's front doors. Propped open, the glass entrance seemed to offer an invitation to enter. It was clear someone had been there. And if Dylan was right, they could still be.

They could now see the unidentified structure for what it was, a work of art. Handmade, it towered over the parking lot. A lift in the corner of the pavement explained its height. Someone had spent weeks building it.

Still unsure, Dylan went to scout it closer. While everyone waited for Dylan's okay, Skye watched Jesse terrorize some ants while the men kept an eye out.

Forty-five minutes later, Dylan came back. "People have been movin around down there. Hard to tell if it was a group or family. But, if we're going to do this, let's get it done."

Dylan and Skye took the lead. Dylan continuously scanned their surroundings as they drove down the hill to the store parking lot. Skye eyed the colossal statue as they drove under it. It was a statue of a man or parts of one. Every time Skye looked at it, she swore it was taller.

Maybe it was its size and shape, or that such a strange piece of art stood in this unexpected place, but it was eerie.

Painted blood-red, its body was created from piecemeal scraps of metal and wood. Poorly made, it stood on two twisted, misshapen legs. One arm reached out entreating passersby for help. The other limb went only to the elbow. With the rest of the arm in a jumbled pile on the ground below.

The face was the most finely constructed part of the piece. It contained more detail than all the rest of the creation put together. It showed a man in agony, eyes wide and mouth screaming.

Though roughly made, it was art. There was no doubt it represented the disastrous state humankind now found itself in. It both frightened and deeply saddened Skye. She shivered.

"Strange," Dylan mumbled.

"Yeah."

At the market's front doors, they parked and exited their cars as quietly as possible. Once inside, every scrape of a foot, every shift of weapons, and even a sniff echoed throughout the dark, deserted building.

Used to seeing the store bustling with light, people, and energy, to see it like this brought back the weird feeling Skye felt near the statue. Her mind flashed to every horror movie she'd ever seen. Putting her arm around Jesse, she pulled them both closer to Dylan.

People had been here. The checkouts sat to the left side of them. Notes along with money covered the conveyor belt left by honest-hearted people hoping things would get back to normal one day. The pile was covered with a thin layer of dusty dirt. No one cared -- money was worthless now.

To the right, the fresh fruit and vegetable section sat empty, not even an apple left. It was just as well. The smell of so much rotten food would've driven them out. A few broken jars of garlic lay scattered on the floor. They’d left a strong aroma but nothing else. Ahead, the shelving still contained a surprising amount of items on them. It gave the group hope they would find everything they needed.

Dylan gestured for Aaron and Curt to go with him to check out the aisles, while Wade, Jesse, and Skye would stay near the cash registers. The three men made it to the end of the rows then gave the all clear.

Each person grabbed two buggies to fill. Skye winced at the clamor as they clanged and screeched across the floor.

Lord, I hope no one is within miles of this place.

Thirty

Headlines

Skye stifled a giggle. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen anything so absurd as the large men speeding off with their buggies while shouldering their guns and bows.

Dylan swept a muscled arm through a shelf, dumping its contents directly into the metal cart. He looked up at her, frowned and gave a sharp nod in the direction she was supposed to be going.

"I know." Skye looked contrite.

"Then get."

Skye playfully rolled her eyes at him. His tone hadn't been as harsh as his words.

Skye turned the opposite way of Dylan at the next cross-aisle and headed to the part of the store that held personal items. Each person had designated items, and she had assigned herself this area. Skye had no faith the men would even remotely know the right soaps or anything else to get. And there were a few extras she hoped to sneak into the buggy.

On her way to personal products, she passed through the toy section and grabbed a couple of games Jesse requested along with all the model car kits left. She spied a red remote-control car and tossed it in the buggy too. Books, paper, pens, and pencils flew into the cart. They were back in high demand now devices weren't used as much.

In the personal section, she stuck to the essential things first like toothpaste, shampoo, soaps. When she claimed all they needed, Skye turned to luxury items. Moisturizers, conditioner, face masks, a couple of nail polishes just for fun, makeup, a brush all for herself, hair ties, and the many other things that a woman needs or wants after being deprived of them for so long.

Skye was losing breath by the time she was done. Though she would've loved to take time to peruse the aisles, Skye scooped up products as fast as she could, happy she wasn't a picky person.

Her eyes were on the cart looking over her haul as Skye whisked around the end of the aisle and almost colliding into Wade, Dylan and Jesse's buggies.

"Hey, you done? What the?" Dylan said, giving her his I-can't-believe-you-woman look as his eyes moved from the cart to her.

Skye looked at her supplies. Silently groaning, she noticed face masks and fingernail polishes on the top of the heaping pile. "Look, I got all the important products they had! Then I got a few things I wanted.”

"A few things? I'm not sure all that is gonna fit in the cabin,” Dylan mumbled as he flipped through the pile.

"Stop it. It's not that much." When Dylan didn't relent, Skye said, "Fine. Then dig through there and take out what you think I don't need." Skye looked from her stuff to the two uncomfortable men eyeing the numerous pink and purple packaged items.

Jesse looked from the men to the buggy to Skye, snickering behind his hands. Skye threw up her arms. "Oh sorry, guys, in case you hadn't noticed I'm a girl!" Jesse went from snickering to all-out laughter.

Wade turned to Jesse and thumped him in the head. "Have some respect, boy!"

"Wade!" Skye put out a hand to stop him. "Do you have to be so physical? You know I hate that."

"Yes, I do. And in case you hadn't noticed, we're boys." The three guys broke into laughter.

"Boys is right," Skye muttered under her breath as she pushed past them.

"Hey, you got me stuff!" Jesse pawed through the toys. "What's this?" He turned one of the books from front to back.

"A book for you."

"It's a love story." Jesse grimaced and pointed to a girl on the back of the book.

"It's not a love book. It's a dragon story. See." Skye pointed out the man, the dragon, and the title. "The Dragon Master."

"I don't know," he drew out, staring at the cover.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, give me that." Skye tossed it back in the buggy. "We are getting it. I can't even imagine what shopping for real would be like with you guys."

Dylan urged them back to the front of the store. As they rushed through the men and boy's clothing department, Skye grabbed jackets, coats, and sweatshirts. The men gave quick nods to everything. It was only when she veered to the jeans, they complained.

"We don't want no new jeans." Wade looked stubborn.

Skye's raised her eyebrows. "But your old ones all have holes in them."

"Yeah, and they're just getting comfortable," Dylan said as he threw a few packs of dark thermal tops and bottoms into his buggy.

Skye tossed some jeans in anyhow, at some point they'd be glad they had them.

By the checkouts, Wade grabbed several dusty magazines. Dylan picked up one. The headlines screamed Atlantis exists! Leaders talk with President and offer hope for AgFlu! In smaller letters below that, another title said, Aliens take all the healthy to Mars!

Dylan pointed to the Atlantis headline. "You ever believe any of that?"

Before all news stopped, crazy reports flew around. One was that Atlantians had the cure for the AgFlu. Major new channels circulated the story along with footage of the supposed underwater people.

Skye shook her head. "I never knew what to believe."

"Well," Wade said, "you know we couldn't ever believe what the President told us, that's for sure! And the media just did what he told them to do."

Jesse piped up. "Well, there ain't a President anymore."

Wade took a huge breath. Dylan and Skye shared a glance. Wade was about to launch into one of his conspiracy theories.

Dylan pulled at one of Wade's carts. "Come on now. There ain't time for all your ideas."

Curt and Aaron ran into the store and traded empty carts for the full ones. "Still got room in the trucks. Let's fill 'em up!"

"Well, put this in first." Wade pointed to his, Dylan and Jesse's buggies. "If that fills it up, just leave Skye's stuff off." Wade's eyes twinkled at Skye's outraged expression.

Skye turned to Curt and Aaron. "Every one of those items better be in one of those vehicles!"

"Yes, ma'am," they said before laughing as they headed out the front of the store.

"Come on." Dylan waved them to the hardware and sports section. "Since they’re doing that, let's get the rest of this stuff." Tools, nails, and screws in a variety of sizes were all thrown into the buggy. Then all the bullets, arrows and bolts, as well as, knives, fishing gear, and the only two guns left.

The four shot smiles at each other. They had everything on their list and then some.

Getting it packed in the vehicles took some doing. And they were reduced to laughter by the time the last item made it in the truck. After banging up the final tailgate, they turned to see six rough strangers advancing on them, weapons drawn.

Thirty-One

My Boy

Calvin and Frankie stood on the hill overlooking the large store. They observed Dylan's group as they rushed in and out of the building filling their vehicles with supplies. Tony and Pete had made a case to corner Skye and Dylan's group while they were still in the building before going to look for a suitable ambush location. But why do that when Calvin could let them do all the work and take the fully loaded vehicles when it was done? Then Calvin and his men could find a decent house and hole up for the winter somewhere.

Frankie scraped his shoe in the dirt and stones alongside the asphalt road. He was clearly working up his courage, and Calvin was pretty sure why.

Frankie heaved a heavy sigh. "I don't want Tony touching my boy. He's got more than a beatin in mind."

"That's not what you promised him earlier. The boy took something from him, and it's only fair he gets something in return." Calvin eyed Frankie then turned his gaze back to the store as if he were bored.

"That was the alcohol talkin. You know as well as I do, Tony wants more than that, he wants to kill him."

"Tony is a kinda rough guy. His reaction isn't surprising." Calvin waved his hand, he was done with this conversation.

Frankie wouldn't be brushed off. "What's wrong with you? That's my kid, my flesh and blood! You think I'm gonna stand by and watch someone take him out?"

Calvin watched another trip in and out of the store. Those people were like bees in a hive.

"Have ya ever had a kid?" Frankie said. That got Calvin's attention. "Would you've stood by and let someone murder him?"

A white bolt of shock shot through Calvin at the question. He'd run down the parent of every kid that called his son a bad name. No, he would never stand by.

Calvin bowed his head at the memory of his lost children, his heart heavy. He turned to Frankie. "Look, I get it. But I can't take away from Tony what I promised him. You're new -- you might not even stick with us. Tony's been with me from the beginning." Calvin stared at the woods and pursed his lips before glancing back at Frankie. "But I'll tell you what, if you can get the boy away. I won't stop you."

Frankie looked at Tony as he hobbled out of the trees. "Look at him, he's all muscle." Frankie glanced down at his own skinny frame and threw up his arms. "How am I supposed to do that?"

Calvin's eyes narrowed. "You do what any good father does. You protect your child by any means necessary."

Frankie settled and nodded. "I ain't been a good father. The drinking -- it makes me someone I don't wanna be."

"Well, that's an easy fix. Stop drinking." Calvin stared at Frankie. "Be a better man before it's too late, and you don't have a boy anymore."

The words seemed to resonate with Frankie. He grimaced. Calvin couldn't help but wonder if it was from his sorrow over being a less than stellar father or a future without a drink.

Calvin crossed his arms. "I'll do what I can if you promise to do what you can." He waited for an assurance that Frankie would, at least, make an effort to take care of his child.

"Yeah, okay, Of course, I will." Each word Frankie said became more determined.

"I'm not helping you with that woman your boy is calling mama now. She's getting her due. Just the boy."

"That's all I'm askin for."

Calvin glanced back to the store. "Well, now. It might be out of our hands." Calvin and Frankie watched as six men came out of the woods from the left of the building. Their guns aimed at Dylan's group. "Well, they almost made it out."

"We gotta save Jesse!" Frankie paled and raced to the car.

"And get that stuff." Calvin scanned the area, coming up with a plan as he headed back to the vehicle.

Thirty-Two

Hope

Skye trembled, shaken to the core. She didn't utter a word, but her lips shaped a silent 'no.' With one hand, she reached for Jesse, dragging him over to her. With the other, she grabbed Dylan's shirt, moving closer to him.

Loaded with weapons, the six men oozed menacing attitude. Hard, rough men, their mismatched, dirty clothing looked like a rock band gone wrong. They stopped, smirks on their faces. They knew they had the upper hand.

Dylan's stare quickly scanned the rival group. He turned and murmured, "Skye, take Jesse to the car. Meet us at the pull-off."

Dread come over Skye. She didn't want to go, to leave Dylan here. But the instant he'd spoken, he, Wade, Aaron, and Curt pulled their weapons in unison as if it was a silent signal alerting them to do so. Skye turned, pulling Jesse along with her. The men closed the gap they left behind.

"Oh, no, no, no," said the enemy's leader. "You stay where you are."

Skye glanced behind her. Sweat dripped down the man's filthy face creating tracks in the grime. He was awkward and twitchy, and Skye felt sure he was sick. She continued on until she heard the click of a gun.

The leader nodded toward Dylan. "Looks like you're heading up this little outing. I'm Gregory, and I'm the leader of this little band." Pride over his dubious accomplishment was evident. "What's your name?"

"Dylan. What do ya want?"

"What do I want? I'd say it's what you want." Gregory waved his gun at the trucks. "Too bad you came callin while we were out. You're not showing great manners raiding the pantry like you did. All that stuff -- it's ours."

Dylan glanced at Wade to take over the negotiations. Wade was the talker. Dylan had no patience with bargaining, especially when lives could be at stake, but Wade would love the challenge.

"Aww, we're real sorry about that." Wade's voice was as casual and friendly as if the two groups had met at the neighborhood bar. "We didn't know this was 'owned' by anyone. We just reckoned this bounty was for everybody. How did it come to be yours?"

"We live here now, so it's ours. It's all ours."

"I understand." Wade laughed. "Kinda the American way,." He scratched his head. "Thing is, we could use some of this stuff. How about we trade for what we got in the trucks? This is a store, so we'll buy what we took. Whaddya want for it?"

Gregory laughed. "What do we want? We want all our stuff back. We want to not sell it to you. In fact, because we now have to haul it all back in there, we are going to keep your vehicles as payment for the extra work we have to do."

Dylan and the others brought the guns that had drifted downward back up at Gregory's words. His people did the same.

"Whoa, Gregory!" Wade put his hands up. "Your gonna want to stop right there. You see my brother, Dylan, here? He's gettin angry. And while Dylan in full rage is a glorious thing to see, you’re not gonna want it coming at ya. Now, his girlfriend here says it ain't healthy. But I gotta say, it sure is entertaining, if you're not on the receivin end of it. So, before that happens, let's get back to talking. This isn't very neighborly of you. Here we are tryin to strike up a bargain, and you go saying that. Come on, let's make a deal."

"Oh, I'm a lot more neighborly than some groups. I see you got a woman with you. Do you know those are getting rather scarce? Women die quicker now than men, bit rough out here for a lot of 'em. I could be asking for her."

Relief flooded Skye over Gregory’s lack of interest in her. Regardless of the man's lack of attention, Dylan reached his arm back and pushed Skye directly behind him, his jaw tightening.

"And the kid, too. Kids are almost as scarce. A lot died when there was no one to take care of them. The world needs kids. I was kinda hoping they wouldn't die out, so life could, you know, go on."

Skye wrapped her arm tighter around Jesse as Gregory paused for dramatic effect. "So yeah, I could ask a lot more from you all. So the deal is this; you get to live if you leave within the next two minutes. Or you can die. It's up to you." As he spoke, his men slid the safeties off their guns.

Dylan's men tensed, readying themselves for the fight. Even Jesse’s grip tightened around the knife at his belt. The pressure was palpable, it would take little to set it off.

Skye examined Gregory, then the rest of his group. The man to the right of Gregory had a tremor so bad his gun shook like the tail of a rattlesnake. That was at least two sick in his group.

Skye knew what people wanted. Hope was the cornerstone of life. It always had been. Hope a child would make it to adulthood. Hope one found a mate. Hope together they could live a happy life, maybe produce healthy children. And the cycle went round again.

These men had none of that. There were mateless, childless, and dying. They needed what everyone else had -- something to believe in.

Maybe they hadn’t heard yet.

Skye stepped around Dylan. "Excuse me."

"Darlin', shut up." Dylan's resigned words told her while she often did the unexpected, now was not the time. He pushed her back again.

"No, please, let the lady speak."

Skye ignored the stress pouring from Dylan. "I can't help but notice some of you are infected."

"Why yes, you get a gold star. We are all, in fact, infected. Some of us have full-on sickness. Not a nice condition, let me tell you."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure it's not. We aren't sure that our boy, Jesse, has been exposed. Do you mind if I put a mask on him? To protect him?"

"If it makes you feel better, go right ahead. But I'm thinking no one here will live that long anyway."

"Well, just in case." Skye's hand shook at Gregory's comment as she pulled a mask out of her pocket. "And he's not going to die because you're not going to kill us. We will leave here with or without the stuff, that part has not been determined, but you're not going to kill us."

"Well, little lady, I was talking about the sickness taking us. It takes everyone sooner or later."

This is what Skye had waited for. "I know it seems like that, but some people do live through it. Wade, Dylan and I all had it to some degree and got better. Maybe you will too."

Shock covered the faces of the rival group. Clearly, they had been unaware of anyone's survival. The news did what Skye had hoped it would. It changed the focus from her group to something else.

When Gregory's men dropped their weapons and started to murmur amongst themselves, it seemed to have worked.

Thirty-Three

White Coats

"That's what them White Coats said," one of Gregory's men said. "They were right!"

White Coats?

"No, they weren't right." Gregory's voice was full of disdain. "And neither is she. You know what you've seen. It isn't true."

"But what if it is?" The men's murmurs grew louder as more of them joined in the discussion.

Gregory raised his voice. "She's lying! Now quiet down."

Skye took a step closer only to have Dylan grab her arm. "I'm not lying to you. Some people are surviving."

Gregory's men debated amongst themselves. "The White Coats offered a ton of money, jewelry, and ammo if we brought them some lab rats."

"Money ain't worth anything now, ya idiot."

"They said it would be. Everything would be the same again, once the scientists created a cure."

The word caught Skye's ear. "A cure?"

"Yeah," Gregory said, "They're looking for people who claim to survive it. People like you. Don't suppose you want to volunteer to help out the human race, do ya?"

Dylan scoffed. "What are they offering you money for, if it's volunteers they want?"

"Just to help escort you there." Gregory's innocent act wasn't convincing anyone.

"Yeah, right," Dylan growled.

Skye, though, was still curious. "Where are these people located?"

"We don't care," Dylan said in a flat tone.

Skye glance back at him. "Dylan."

"We don't care."

Dylan stood there every bit as tough as the men before him, his steely gaze taking in every movement of the enemy. A muscle worked in his jaw. It pulsed a couple of times before Skye understood Dylan picked up on something she missed. So she repeated his words, "We don't care."

Gregory gave a bark of a laugh. "Well, we do. They need some lab rats. It looks to me as if we've got some."

Skye's stomach turned. "You just said that you didn't believe any of this."

"Well yeah, but just in case. Besides, the stuff the White Coats are offering."

Skye clenched her fists. Gregory wasn't after the stuff, he was after the 'just in case.' She had ignited a hope, but she only had words. These White Coats may actually have a cure. Her wish of getting her people out of there got slimmer by the minute.

Wade spoke up. "Ya have a whole store full of stuff, buddy. How about you just let us go in peace?"

"Sorry, buddy, but I don't think I can do that." Gregory signaled his men. Their guns returned to their shoulders.

A cold finger traced its way through Skye. Her hand sought Jesse's as Dylan pulled her back behind him. "Go!"

Gregory's men would need to go through Dylan's to get to Skye and Jesse. It gave them a small window of opportunity. Skye turned and flew the few steps to her blue Jeep, yanked the door open and pushed Jesse inside. She ducked and uselessly covered her head when the deafening roar of gunfire erupted. The bullets tore into her car.

The shots flattened tires and shattered windows. When the shower of debris stopped, Skye gasped for what little air her pounding heart allowed.

"Jesse!"

Skye raised her head to find Jesse already scrambling back to her. By some miracle, he was not hurt. Skye wrapped an arm around his waist and jerked him back out of the car, onto the ground.

Gregory yelled, "Don't kill them, you idiots! They aren't worth anything dead."

One last bullet passed them like an angry bee, shaving a small piece of metal from the body of the Jeep and hurling it deep into Skye's arm. She groaned as it burned its way through her flesh.

A band of iron encircled her other arm and dragged her to the front of the Jeep. Dylan pushed Skye and Jesse to the ground. Skye covered Jesse, and Dylan covered Skye as he searched the parking lot.

The trail of blood running down her arm splashed small ruby droplets to the pavement below.

Dylan winced. "You're hurt."

"I'm fine. It's nothing." When Dylan yanked up her sleeve, looking uncertain, Skye assured him. "I promise. It's nothing."

He nodded and ran a quick hand over Skye's hair as he continued to eye Gregory's men. Two of the enemy lay motionless on the pavement while the other four sought cover behind empty vehicles.

Dylan's six people had made it through the initial gunfire. They crouched behind cars themselves.

Dylan let out an exasperated groan. "They've shot up all our cars. I'm not sure any of them will start now. We can't have you wasting time trying. I want you out of firing range. You and Jesse are going to have to run for it."

"Run?" Skye looked over the vast, sparse parking lot. "Where?"

"The tree line." Dylan nodded the way he intended as he shoved a small gun into her hand. "Lose yourself in the woods, you know how."

Skye drew in a breath. "Okay." The trees seemed so far away.

"We'll give you cover."

"And then you'll follow, right?"

"We'll try."

"Dylan."

Dylan nodded to Wade so his brother would keep a lookout for him. He put a gentle hand on Skye's face. His eyes softened as he drank in every one of her features. "You're lovely." His thumb stroked her cheek, just once. But Skye felt every slight movement of his calloused hand against her soft skin.

"You go to the overlook. If that doesn't seem safe, go farther. I'll find you."

"I know."

"You worry about you and the boy. I'll worry about me. Got it?"

"Yes." Skye brought her free hand up and on laid it on his. She bit her lips together, afraid she would cry.

Dylan pulled her towards him and kissed her forehead. His gaze sought hers again and locked, holding hers. "If this crazy, horrible, wonderful feeling is love. Then I love ya, darlin'."

Skye pulled in a breath and held it. For a moment, everything was still. She forgot where she was, what was happening. A hawk screeched above them. Dylan's rough hand moved against her, his resolved, beautiful face filled her vision. This time it was Skye who couldn't speak.

Skye started to move toward him, but before she could, Dylan whispered, "Now go." He stood, lifting her up with him.

"Dylan."

"I know." He smiled and gave her a little push in the direction he wanted her to go.

Thirty-Four

The Bad Guys

The second Skye and Jesse left safety, Dylan and the others laid down a protective layer of bullets. Gregory's men did not even peek around their shields to try anything.

The gunfire rang through her skull and reverberated through her body. But the sound which normally put her on edge now brought her comfort as she and Jesse sped across the broad swath of bare pavement.

However as soon as there was a break in the gunfire, Gregory sent two of his men after Skye and Jesse. Skye glanced their way and urged Jesse to run faster. The two men fired, their bullets hitting the concrete behind her and Jesse.

Skye turned at the sound of a cry. Curt was on the ground clenching his leg. Dylan pulled him back to safety as Wade returned fire.

Skye tripped over a crack in the pavement.

"Mom!" Jesse helped her up. "They're closer, Mom!"

Skye fired a couple of rounds behind her. It was unlikely she would hit anything, but the men slowed anyway.

Skye picked up speed, going as fast as Jesse could handle. Her gaze ran up and down the broken pavement, frantically searching for someplace to hide. The few scattered vehicles lay too far away to be of help. She and Jesse needed to make it to the trees. They had to.

Skye threw a glance over her shoulder. Gregory's men were gaining on them with each step. She could hear the slap of their shoes on the asphalt.

Skye and Jesse refused to give up. Breath labored, hearts pounding, they raced on.

"We'll make it, Jesse!" Skye huffed. The boy nodded, but their odds were low, and he wasn't the fool he pretended to be.

The men shot at Skye and Jesse's feet. A bullet to a leg was less likely to be fatal. But their own erratic movements along with those of their targets kept their aim from hitting anything vital.

They taunted Skye and Jesse. "You can't win. Just stop. Quit. Everyone else will be dead soon. Do you really think some woman and kid will get away from us?"

Skye clamped her jaw. "We've gotten away before by ourselves, and we'll do it again," she told Jesse. If they could make it to the tree line, they'd have cover. She and Jesse could use what Dylan taught them. They just needed the trees.

Instead of slowing Skye and Jesse, the men's words fueled them. Skye's spirits lifted when they were within yards of the woods. They were almost there, just a few steps, a few seconds, and they would be safe.

They were so close now they could almost touch the multi-colored leaves on the trees.

When the shots rang out, Skye jerked. Gregory's men thudded to the ground. Skye and Jesse turned expecting to see Dylan and Wade. But there was no one behind them.

Skye's gaze traveled to where she'd left him. Dylan's men were in hand to hand combat with Gregory's remaining men.

There was a stir in the woods. Skye whipped back toward it.

Through the thick line of trees stepped Calvin, Pete, and Tony. Skye's whole body clenched, and her mind spun. When she thought the nightmare couldn't get worse, Frankie came into view.

Skye started to pant, unable to draw a breath. She put a hand out to Jesse and took an unsteady step backward. Whatever Gregory's men had in store for them would be a picnic next to what these men had planned.

She whirled, pulling Jesse with her. She needed to get back to Dylan.

"Oh no, you don't. We finally found you, rebels. It's time you learned your place."

Thirty-Five

I Will If I Have To

Skye reluctantly turned back to the men, pushing Jesse behind her and raising her gun.

Calvin laughed. "You don't want to do that, girl."

Resolve firmed Skye's shaky muscles as she took a stance. "No, I don't, but I will if I have to."

Rage covered Calvin's face. "When will you learn?" He raised his own gun. Skye fired, but Calvin ducked.

Calvin returned fire. Skye's bones seemed to rattle out of their sockets as Calvin's bullet slammed into her gun. Her weapon dropped and skittered along the pavement. She looked down at her throbbing hands and saw a small chunk of flesh gone. Blood dripped from her hand.

Skye put her unsteady arms around Jesse. "Please, just don't hurt Jesse."

Tony laughed as he took one limping step toward them. Revenge for his injury was his only purpose.

"Dad!" Jesse gaze swung to his father, his voice breaking as he called out to him. "Dad, you don't want to be like this."

"You’re fine, Son," Frankie assured him, ignoring Tony's fiery glance, "You'll be fine."

"And Skye too?"

"Skye -- I can't do nothin about."

Skye stared at Frankie. Was it possible to believe him? She wanted to assume he would save his son from any hurt, even as her stomach dropped at his refusal to help her. Skye had no plan. There was none to have. There was no choice but to trust Frankie would at least not allow them to kill Jesse.

"Jesse," Skye kissed the top of his head and murmured, "go to your father."

"No."

Skye was not a stranger to the obstinate tone in Jesse's voice. He could be one stubborn child, but please, not now. She glanced at the men and saw they were in no hurry. In fact, they were enjoying themselves. Their eyes lit up as Skye squirmed, and they laughed at her realization that she had no choice but to surrender. They didn't want to rush this.

Skye dropped to her knees in front of Jesse and smoothed back his dark hair with her good hand. "Baby, I want you to survive. Your father will at least give that to you."

"I know. But if I go to Dad, the others will come for you."

Skye closed her eyes for a moment, then gazed at Jesse. "Honey, they will come after me no matter what you do. So please, go to your father."

"No."

Tears welled in Skye's eyes. This boy was aware of what he was putting on the line for her, and he was ready to do it.

"If we stall long enough," Jesse whispered, "Dylan will get here."

Skye threw a look over her shoulder. Dylan was by the cars throwing punches, blood over his face and upper body. She laid her head against Jesse. "We'll be long gone before he gets here."

"Dad," Jesse called out, "I've never asked for much, you never let me. But I'm askin that you let us go. Don't let them hurt Skye."

"Son, I'm not in charge here. I couldn't help her if I wanted to."

"Well, I gotta say," Calvin said, "I'm impressed by the kid. Putting himself on the line like that for her. Who would've guessed a whelp of yours would have it in him, Frankie?" He clapped. "This is turning into quite the show. Any more pleading? I'm really enjoying this."

Skye ignored him, keeping her focus on the boy. "Jesse." All her love and concern poured into his name.

Jesse put his hand to her hair and smoothed it, as she had done to him so many times before. "I'm not leavin ya, Dylan wouldn't leave you, and I won't either."

Skye took in Jesse's stubborn stance. Only the very young were able to be this reckless and still think everything would be fine. But there was no sense in arguing with him now.

"Okay, act like we're still talking about this while I take a look around." Over Jesse's shoulder, Skye searched the pavement and the tall grass growing along it for something, anything she could use as a weapon.

If Jesse would not cooperate with her plan of saving him, then she needed a different one. A plan to fight.

They still had their knives, but to get close to the men wouldn't be to her and Jesse's advantage. She berated herself for allowing Calvin to disarm her.

"I think we only have to concentrate on the three. Your dad won't hurt you." At Jesse's doubtful face, Skye said, "Well, you know what I mean, not as much as they will. Try to do what you did the last time if you get caught. We will run for it but, honestly, I have little hope of getting away. You need to prepare yourself."

She looked back at Dylan, wishing his swinging fists were at her side. "And you're right, maybe, if we can stall long enough..."

Jesse put a shaky hand on her cheek and pulled her face back to him. "Dylan and Wade will save us, Mom. I know they will."

Skye nodded. "Well, last time we saved ourselves, so let's try that first."

A ray of light hit Skye's eye, causing her to squint and turn her head. To the left side of Calvin, glass sparkled against the tarred concrete through the line of overgrown grass. There was something dark, maybe metal. She could see only a small bit. It may be nothing, but it helped her decide. They were going that way. Skye prayed it would be something she could use against these evil men.

"I love you, baby. Are you ready?"

Jesse solemnly nodded. Skye took his hand in her bloody one and stood, looking at the smirking men as regretful as she could. Calvin, with his short, blonde hair and trendy clothing, along with his natural way of speaking could have been a rather charming neighbor of hers before all this happened. She would have never known of the darkness that lay within him.

Tony, anger wrote in every line of his body, probably always tended toward bullying. A lack of law and order gave him the freedom to become someone vicious.

And Pete, overly tall and strong but not very bright. He could have been a rather loveable figure before but had fallen in with these two. There was no malice on his face as he stood there watching them. But there was also no doubt in Skye's mind he would follow every order given and enjoy it.

These men could not rule the world, not her world, not Jesse's world. She wouldn't let them.

You're going down. I don't know how, but you will not win this.

Thirty-Six

Defeat

Skye hung her head and sagged her shoulders as she faced Calvin and his men, trying to look defeated even as she tensed for their escape. Under her lashes, she took small, quick glances at the men as she sized them up.

Calvin barked out some comment about docile women Skye felt sure he thought was witty. The rest of them laughed, relaxing for a moment. This was the opportunity Skye had waited for, slim as it was. It was likely the only one she and Jesse would get.

Skye squeezed Jesse's hand, and pushing off the concrete, they ran. Jesse held tight as they sprinted to the thin patch of weeds Skye had made her goal. Maybe whatever was there would turn the tables for them.

"Hey!" one man called out as they ran right past them to the edge of the concrete. Their shoes scraped against the pavement as they started after Skye and Jesse.

Skye ignored the yell, ignored their feet pounding the ground behind them. All her focus was on that one dark, unknown object. Please, please, please!

The closer she got to it, the more she could make out. It was long and slim. Her hopes rose.

Jesse glanced back. The men were on their heels. "Mom!"

The long scraggly grass was no barrier as Skye's feet crunched the gravel and small bits of broken glass. Her hand slid around the dense, smooth weapon. Skye gripped it, pulling it out of the mud trying to keep it where it was. But she jerked it up.

It was all she'd hoped for and more. Skye continued to race toward the woods, barely slowing at all. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

"Jesse! It's good!" Skye tightened her grip on the lug wrench, its solid surface giving her the courage she needed. The men were close, she could hear them panting behind her.

Calvin was only steps behind Skye, then Pete ,with Tony awkwardly following everyone. Frankie hung back to keep an eye on Tony.

"Jesse," Skye gasped, "We will run as far into the woods as far as we're able. Use the trees for cover. Circle back to Dylan. If we get separated. That's what you do. If just one of us get to Dylan, he will know where we are."

"Okay." Jessie agreed, his young face as determined as any man's.

Skye and Jesse wove through the trees, jumping over tree roots and fallen limbs, hoping those would delay the men. Cursing began behind them. A heavy thud sounded like one of their pursuers went down, at least temporarily.

Skye slowed Calvin, but couldn't shake him. Soon he was right back on her heels. She could practically feel his breath on her neck.

She listened for the crunch of Calvin's tread on the fallen leaves, trying to figure out just how far behind her he was. Calvin sped up, taking an extra step for every two of hers. He would soon be on them. Skye readied herself, tightening her sweaty grip on the metal rod.

One more step.

Skye waited for the crunch. She dropped Jesse's hand. Grasping the lug wrench with both hands, she turned and swung it with all her force. The moment slowed, and the connect with Calvin's body seemed to take too much time.

When the blow came, they both cried out with pain. The shock of the impact reverberated through Skye's arms and shoulders.

Skye raised her weapon and came at Calvin again. He staggered back trying to avoid it. The second strike forced him to his knees, groaning. One more blow and he fell to the ground. Calvin groaned out insults but didn't stand.

She backed away from him, quickly scanning the forest for the others. They were behind Calvin but not as far as Skye would have liked. She had no more time to spend on Calvin. Still, it's something, maybe enough to keep him down.

But it wasn't enough for Jesse. As soon as Skye finished, he moved in and sunk his knife deep into Calvin's thigh. Jesse twisted it. Calvin's scream echoed off the surrounding hills.

In another place and time, Skye would've cried over Jesse hurting someone like that, but she had no tears to shed for Calvin and no time to do it. But when Jesse raised the knife again, Skye said, "Jesse, we need to go. They're coming."

Once again, they gripped each other's hands as they ran. They persevered until their bodies, dripping sweat and gasping for breath could do no further. Slipping behind some large trees, they caught their breath.

Skye clung to the rough, brown bark of one and peeked around it. Calvin was up, though limping. The men had fanned out, blocking the way to Dylan. Her hope of getting back to her group was gone.

The only way left was in front of them, a steep uphill slope. Half-way up the small mountain was the road winding down to the entrance to the store. Where Dylan was. Calvin blocked the direct way through the woods. Now the only way to Dylan was up and around.

Skye's gaze ran from the bottom of the hill all the way up to the road. It seemed much larger standing at the bottom. A scramble up the almost vertical hill would be no easy task.

Bit by bit, the men closed in on them. Calvin called out crude insults and taunts trying to provoke Skye and Jesse into revealing their position. "Ignore him," Skye whispered to Jesse when he stiffened in protest, "nothing he has to say is true or worth listening to."

She tipped her head to the mountain in front of them. "Can we climb it?"

"Sure, just grab onto the trees and bushes and pull yourself up."

Skye couldn't help but light a little at his optimism. She kept quiet rather than remind him she no longer had the energy of a twelve-year-old, that even her relatively few years behind a desk had undoubtedly taken a toll on her. "Sure, just do that," Skye said with a slight smile.

Once they ran for it, they would be seen, but that couldn't be helped. The men would soon be on them anyway. A nod to Jesse and they took off. A shout behind them told her they were spotted.

The strain on Skye's legs began immediately as she started up the incline. Skye and Jesse climbed side by side. They pushed hard and fast against the soft ground causing some of the dirt to slide away and trickle down the slope. Skye did as Jesse suggested. She gripped whatever grass, shrubs or trees she could to haul herself further up. The strain on her arms was tremendous.

Skye hissed as a clump of grass slipped through the wound on her hand, but continued on. It was much slower than running. It seemed as though they moved through molasses. Still, she thought they made good headway until she saw the men.

They climbed much faster than her, their greater upper body strength giving them an advantage. They were outpacing her and Jesse. Tony ascended faster than the rest, crawling up the side of the old mountain like a spider. His strong arms made up for his injured leg.

Her eyes widened. They didn't have much time. "Go, Jesse! Get to Dylan!"

Jesse glanced at Tony. "I'm going to draw him away."

"No!" Skye reached for Jesse, but her hand swiped through the empty air.

"Dad will come after him. That leaves you with two."

Not two that want me dead as bad as Tony wants you dead.

Skye continued to climb as Jesse moved away. Her stomach ached as Tony got closer and closer to Jesse.

Above Skye, a huge rock protruded from the soil. If she could get to the right side, she could cross it to the left where Jesse headed. From there, she could drag Jesse up. Maybe they could defend that spot.

Skye pushed herself and reached the large, smooth top of the stone. She grabbed hold of the cold rock. Below her, Pete and Calvin followed. Skye shook her head. The evil spawn will not stay down.

Skye pulled herself onto the stone. Then raced the few steps across to Jesse's side.

Jesse was right. Tony followed him. The man was relentless, like a pit bull with teeth buried to the gums in a chew toy. Skye swallowed a gasp as Tony gained on Jesse.

* * *

Jesse heard the snap of branches behind him. He turned in time to see Tony pull his arm back.

Pain exploded across Jesse's face. He slammed against the stony soil, stunned. Only instinct kept him clinging to a small tree bending with his weight.

Skye screamed Jesse's name. Frankie quickened his pace as he trailed Tony.

Tony clenched his fist again. Skye yelled a warning. Jesse waited for the punch to come, then turned to let it harmlessly speed by him.

It threw Tony off balance. Jesse kicked at him, hoping the man would fall. He didn't.

Instead, Tony stabilized. Then he grabbed Jesse's ankle and pulled. Jesse clung to the grass and bushes for as long as possible. The man shook Jesse until all he held were a few weeds.

Tony said nothing, his face communicated it all. Eyes narrowed, determined to hurt the boy. He held the boy over open air -- a straight drop to the ground. The fall would probably not kill Jesse, but it would wound him, maybe severely. It was clearly what Tony wanted.

Upside down, Jesse frantically sought any handhold possible. It was at least twenty-five feet down. He had no intention of hitting bottom.

Tony slung him around by his ankle, playing with him. A bit of grass ran through Jesse’s hands -- the whip-thin branches of the brush -- once even the trunk of a good-sized tree until Tony made sure his head rammed into it causing everything to spin worse than it already did.

Tony stopped swinging him and laughed. Something bad was coming. At first, Jesse held his breath. But as the seconds ticked by and Tony baited him, Jesse got angry.

"I ain't sorry!" Jesse yelled, "I ain't sorry, and I'd do it again! I will do it again!"

Tony growled. It wasn't the kind of growl Dylan gave when trying to ward off unwanted questions.

This was deeper, harder. Before the world changed, Jesse hadn't known what that sound meant. Now he did. It was the sound men made as they prepared to battle.

Jesse had pushed Tony to the breaking point. One of them wouldn't make it through the day. Jesse's insides tightened.

"Kid," Tony snarled "by the time this is over, you're going to wish that is all I did to you!"

Jesse's eyes widened as they looked from Tony to the ground far below his head. He felt the man's hand loosen from his ankle and his free fall start.

Jesse’s hands scrambled, scraping the dirt. It shoved deep under his nails and stirring up the smell of the damp earth. Above him, Tony laughed, and Skye screamed. Once, Jesse caught hold of some brush, it slowed him. But the friction cut his hands, and the blood made them too slick to hang on to anything.

The landing was worse than Tony's punch. Jesse yelled as he slammed to a halt. He lay stunned. There was a strange noise. Him, trying to breathe. His chest jolted up and down attempting to draw in air. But unable to, it would quickly abort and start again. Everything started to go dark. Then for some reason, his lung hauled in a loud, noisy breath. It was weird, but it worked.

Jesse looked around. He wasn't on the ground; a small tree had saved him. He lay back against the tree, facing the blue sky.

The loud gasp hadn't been enough, and he was having trouble pulling in another. Jesse needed a breath, just one. His whole body protested his lack of air, his arms and legs flopping. Then a bit, only a little, but it was something.

With his next try, another strange sound came from his throat or chest. Jesse couldn't figure out where. It was like a strangling sound, but it echoed somewhere deep within him. He gagged, and finally, a real breath.

Jesse took a moment to savor the air before testing his limbs. Satisfied, he wasn't broken, he wondered at the dirt falling down on him. He tracked it up to its source.

Tony charged down the hill like an enraged bull. His red face locked on Jesse as he skidded almost without stopping using the rocks and branches to control his descent. As he neared Jesse, Tony bent his leg and raised it.

Jesse watched him come. A chill of fear came over him. Tony was going to stomp him as he lay with his back draped over the tree, and that would hurt. It would hurt very, very much.

Jesse tried to roll over, but a sharp pain stopped him. He tried again, but it was too late. Jesse braced for the impact.

Thirty-Seven

The Only Thing

Skye stood at the edge of the rock above Jesse and Tony, her hands covering her mouth. Frankie was too still too far away to get to Jesse in time.

Skye couldn't stand there and watch as this monster beat her boy. Her gaze flicked from the edge of the rock she stood on to Tony.

She did the only thing she could do.

Skye dove off the mountain ledge straight for Tony.

Tony wasn't as large of a target as Pete would have been, but he was big enough. Branches and twigs left deep welts, and an icy fear raced through her. The drop felt longer than Skye imagined. She crashed into Tony and gasped.

Her stomach rolled as she grabbed at the flailing Tony. Skye coiled her arms and legs around Tony's neck and body. He would not shake her off. Tony jerked away from the slope, ripping grass and branches as he struggled to hang on.

Once Tony found a hold for one hand, he pummeled Skye's legs which were wrapped around his middle. She tightened the arm around his neck, restricting his air. Tony gasped and grabbed Sky's arm. His iron fingers dug into her flesh as he forced her to let go. But before he could, he lost his grip on the mountain and plunged downward, taking Skye with him.

Together, they rolled over bushes and scraped against stones until Skye pushed away from him. There was a crunching thud when Tony hit the trunk of a large tree. After that, he limply bounced once before continuing the fall. When Tony hit bottom, he was still.

A low whine escaped Skye as the ground rushed toward her. She slammed onto the dirt only seconds after Tony. Stunned and gasping, Skye lay there beside the unconscious man. The treetops did a crazy dance in her rattled mind.

Did I hit my head? I think I may have a concussion. The words were the only calm in her swirling head.

After the turmoil, the world suddenly seemed quiet and peaceful. As if it were a slow Sunday afternoon and she had chosen to rest here. Skye heard the wind blow gently through the trees and watched them stir. She listened to the birds calling out to one another as they flew overhead.

Then Jesse screamed.

Shaken and with little rational thought, Skye struggled to her feet. He needs me. She ignored the pain and the strange slide of her body. It never occurred to Skye he screamed over concern for her.

Skye looked up. A dirt cloud followed Jesse as he half ran, half scraped his way down the side of the mountain. Skye tried to speak, to warn him to slow down. But when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. Jesse neatly hit bottom with both feet, as though he were getting off a slide. He rushed to her.

With care, Jesse led her away from Tony. Limping, she followed, confused over the tears and fear covering Jesse's face as he glanced up at her. Skye groaned in pain when she put a hand to Jesse's face. "I'm okay, Jesse. It's okay. Let's find Dylan."

But Skye moved too slowly. Tony may be down, but Calvin, Pete, and Frankie were back on the ground and followed them.

"She killed Tony," Pete said.

Skye shook her bleary head. If Tony hadn't been chasing them, he wouldn't have been on that mountain to be killed.

"As good as killed him, anyway," Calvin said, "Look at him--all knarled up over there." Tony was a twist of arms and legs. Only a skilled physician would be able to help him now, and the world was short on those.

Calvin sauntered after the shuffling woman and boy as if he had all the time in the world. "Look what you did, Skye. Do you think we are just going to let you go after that? You just can't learn, can you? What an idiot you are, to think that you can stop us. Us!"

Agony shot through Skye's battered body with every step she took. She hurt beyond anything she'd ever felt before. A heavy headache began. When she wiped at her face, she brought back a bloodied hand. Skye stared at it for a moment.

Still, these men wouldn't leave her alone.

A sob escaped Skye before she felt her bracelets roll across the skin of her forearm. Strength. She swallowed the next cry. This had to end. "Please go, Jesse. I need you to go. Now."

"I already told you, I ain't leavin' you."

There was only one hope left to her as unlikely as it seemed. Skye turned to face Jesse's father. Her gaze begged the man as she forced him to take some responsibility. "Frankie."

Frankie refused to look at Skye. Her voice low and gasping, weaker then she would have liked, she pleaded with him. "Please, Frankie, save your son." Frankie turned his gaze to the ground.

Gathering up whatever might she had left, Skye yelled, "Frankie!"

"Yes, Frankie, save your son," Calvin said, imitating Skye. "Don't worry, Frankie, I'm going to save him." He pulled his gun from his pocket. "I'm tired of this game. It's cost me a nice pair of shoes." With genuine sorrow, Calvin looked down at his scuffed up dress footwear. "Not to mention Tony. She isn't worth that. I wanted more time with her, but I'm ending it now." Calvin raised the gun. "Pete, get the boy, and hold him back."

Pete lumbered over to Skye and the boy. Jesse clung to Skye as tightly as he could, but one meaty hand to the middle of Skye's chest and one pulling Jesse's arm was all it took to separate them.

Jesse fought, beating on Pete, but it was as if a fly buzzed around the large man. He paid no attention to the boy at all. Pete walked a few steps to the left of Skye and stopped, holding the struggling boy.

Skye stood as best she could, bleeding from numerous cuts. The anguish from the trauma to her body plain on her face. These were her last moments, and so many thoughts passed through her mind, but one more than any other.

Skye turned to Jesse, her gaze filled with concern as the tears cascaded down his face. "I love you, Jesse. No matter what happens, remember that, and be a good man. Make sure Dylan knows I love him, that my last thoughts were of him. And Wade, tell Wade I love him too. You're all my family. You're all-"

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Calvin said as he pulled the trigger.

Frankie launched himself at Calvin a second before the gun fired, knocking the weapon and Calvin's usually perfect aim off. The bullet didn't hit Calvin's precise target, but it did hit Skye.

Skye studied Frankie. He had tried to save her, someone his son loved, and he hated. Frankie had finally become a father to Jesse. She smiled, and he nodded back.

A strong, persistent burn grabbed Skye's attention. She raised a hand to it and felt blood running from a wound. Then she slowly sank to the ground.

"Don't do that again, Frankie! I say who lives and dies. Now come on, she'll be gone soon enough," Calvin said, "Get your boy and let's go. I'll see if Tony has any life in him."

Frankie shook his head. “I ain’t stayin with you, Calvin. I’m taking my boy and leavin.”

Calvin stared at him for a minute. “After everything I’ve done for you? No. You’re just leaving.”

Calvin raised his gun and shot Frankie in the head.

Jesse stilled and started to weep. Pete looked from Calvin to Frankie, then away.

An unearthly cry echoed through the forest behind them. Calvin visibly shivered as he turned in time to see the wild men bursting through the trees.

Skye's worries eased as Dylan's roar fill the woods. It surrounded her, comforted her. She could finally rest and let the darkness take her. Jesse would be okay.

Thirty-Eight

Skye

When Dylan sent Skye and Jesse off, he was sure they'd be safer in the woods than beside him. He'd kept one eye on them as they started their race across the empty parking lot and huffed out a breath of relief when they appeared safe.

Gunfire raged around Dylan. Once Gregory ordered the firing to start, he didn't let up. Dylan and his men spent most of the time cowering behind the cars. Curt shrieked when a bullet caught him in the leg.

Every time Dylan got the chance, he fired Gregory's way. Once he heard a yell and hoped one enemy went down.

The gunfire from the other side slowed, and Dylan's men got their chance. But mid-blast to the enemy, Wade caught Dylan's attention. Dylan glanced back to see Skye and Jesse running into the woods with four men on their tail.

Dylan's heart slammed against his ribcage. For a second, he froze. A bullet buzzed past his head, startling him back to the fight.

Anger and fear mixed fueling Dylan's aggression. He was ferocious, determined to get this done. The woman and boy needed him.

The shots became more sporadic as bullets ran low. Dylan raced around the car to tackle one of Gregory's men. He pulled him to the ground, pummeling him. When that man was no longer a threat, Dylan went to the next.

This one had more fire in him. He got the upper hand and rolled Dylan, bashing his head against the pavement. Dylan grunted with each hit but pushed his way back up.

Dylan pushed the man back against a car and slammed his fist into his face. He didn't let up until the man was reeling.

Dylan looked to the woods as he wiped the blood from his face.

Shaking out a hand, Wade joined Dylan. Aaron lay on the concrete groaning from a beating he had taken. The Coles tied the last of Gregory's men and told Curt and Aaron to watch the four of them.

Dylan reloaded his crossbow, then he and Wade bolted across the parking lot. Dylan's blood ran cold when he heard Jesse's angry, desperate scream.

They raced to the edge of the concrete and found two of Gregory's men on the ground, dead. Dylan and Wade exchanged a sober glance and headed into the woods.

The enemy hadn't bothered to hide their trail so following them would've been easy, even if Skye and Jesse hadn't deliberately left evidence of the way they had taken. An anguished yell from Skye urged them along. Another  screech from Jesse sent a shudder through Dylan.

The men flew through the forest. They shoved past brambles pulling at their clothing and vaulted over rotted fallen trees. A single thought drove them, to save the ones they loved, no matter the cost.

As they neared the edge of a small glen, Dylan scoured the scene through the trees.

Skye stood alone, her shoulder and arm at an awkward angle, but straight and tall as possible. Dylan had never been more proud and more terrified in his entire life.

A large man held Jesse from going to her. But the boy was a whirl of limbs as he fought the big man with everything he had. Two other men stood across from Skye, one with a gun. The other was Frankie. Dylan groaned.

All this Dylan took in as he rushed toward Skye, only a few yards to go.

The man across from Skye spoke, a bullet exploding from the gun he held. Skye put a hand to her middle, looked at Frankie and dropped.

Dylan halted, stunned. Shook to the core, he hardly noticed the shot that took down Frankie. His legs refused to move, his lungs unable to take in oxygen.

A roar rose from a place Dylan didn't know existed. He stared at his love, the brightness of his life as she lay broken, so pale, and covered in blood. He watched her release a sigh, and go still, so very still.

Dylan's vision narrowed to the man with the gun. He plunged ahead, picking up speed until he broke free from the forest.

Dylan released the rage he continuously held at bay and let it run unchecked, adding the agony of Skye's death to the wrath that already lived within him. Dylan felt the heat move over him, would not have been surprised if his breath became fire.

Wade breathed heavy at his side, but Dylan wanted this for himself. He pulled ahead.

A swipe at Pete's skull with the hard crossbow had the big man staggering and holding his head. Dylan knew he could leave the rest to Wade. Frankie was already down with a bullet to the head. Tony moaned in the background. Dylan moved on to Calvin.

Fear washed over Calvin's face as an enraged Dylan came at him. He stumbled backward, his eyes stretching larger and larger as Dylan closed in on him. Calvin lifted a shaking gun at Dylan.

Dylan aimed his bow and fired, hitting the arm in which Calvin held the gun. His target cried out, dropping the weapon and grabbing at the arrow.

Dylan lunged at Calvin, fists pounding, even as the man apologized for every single wicked thing he had done his entire life.

Dylan's head whirred with rage. Still, Calvin's confession got through. Slaughters and unimaginable cruelties spilled from the man as if his admission would stop Dylan's fists.

It wasn't only Skye, his own beautiful Skye, that suffered at this madman's hands. There were others.

Wade appeared, pulling at Dylan.

"No! He needs to die," Dylan said through gritted teeth.

"She ain't dead," Wade said, "I know he does, but Skye ain't dead."

Dylan released the balled-up chunk of Calvin's shirt he held and let him drop. He stared over his shoulder at her. He was afraid, afraid that on this surreal day, this was the part that was not real.

Shirtless, Jesse pressed his t-shirt to Skye's bullet wound. The boy kept calling out to her, hoping she would wake up.

"Keep 'em all down," Dylan said, his voice curt. "If they move shoot 'em dead." Wade nodded and pulled a whimpering Calvin closer to Pete.

Dylan hurried to Skye. Blood covered her middle, her face, ran down her arms. He moved to gather Skye in his arms but stopped worried he would hurt her more. She looked so small.

Dylan swallowed the sobs trying to escape. Skye may be alive now, but she wouldn't be for long. He planted a foot on each side of Skye and bent to check her pulse. Some of the tension left him. It was stronger than Dylan expected.

Dylan waved at Jesse's hands and gently pulled back the shirt pressed against her wound. The knot inside Dylan tightened. The position of the injury alarmed him. Skye needed more than them, to recover Skye needed a hospital, a doctor.

"Help her, Dylan," Jesse pleaded. Dylan looked at the boy's scared face, knowing it reflected his own. How did he tell the boy maybe no one could?

A rustling came from the bushes to their right, and a black look settled over Dylan's face. He stood and loaded his bow. Beside him, Wade did the same.

Thirty-Nine

Fix Her

Doctor Paul Kinder, his daughter Bre, and Kelsey Lang navigated the steep hilly roads on their way to Colton. After rescuing Kelsey, they located exactly what Paul hoped to find -- a mobile medical unit.

When he heard gunfire, Paul pulled his large vehicle over to the side of the road. From where he sat, Paul could see the superstore and its parking lot. He glanced at the girls. "You know what to do."

"Dad!" Bre pointed at their old neighbors. "That's Aaron and Curt down there!"

"You sure?"

"Yep, that's them all right, propped up against the car there."

Paul peered over his daughter's side of the vehicle. Aaron and Curt sat on the pavement, holding a gun on four other tied men.

He drove into the parking lot, eyeing the scene as he went. There was no doubt a shootout took place here. Many of the scattered vehicles were riddled with bullet holes, and at least three men had injuries consistent with bullet wounds.

Paul rolled up beside Aaron and Curt, but when he went to get out of the car, they stopped him. "Doc," Aaron said around a swollen lip, "It sure is great to see you, but you need to go on and find the Coles." Aaron waved at the woods behind him. "They went that way, after Skye Jackson and Jesse Bailey. We've heard screams."

Paul nodded and turned to the girls. "I'm leaving you here to start on Aaron and Curt's wounds. Check on Aaron and Curt the way I taught you. Do not go near the other men, or distract Aaron and Curt from keeping an eye on them. Keep your weapon on you at all times."

Kelsey and Bre quickly nodded. They knew the drill. This wasn't the first time they'd come across people who needed help. They each grabbed a ready emergency kit and headed over to the brothers.

Paul pulled a large, black tote bag from the back containing a large selection of emergency supplies and ran the way Aaron pointed. Since neither Dylan nor Wade were regular patients, he hoped they would recognize him.

Paul winced as one shot , then a second echoed through the trees. A flock of birds took flight, and everything was still for a moment. A roar shattered the silence. Small creatures scurried in fear and the heavy thuds of men fighting filtered through the woods.

Paul wasn't eager to join the fight, but he'd never been one to turn his back on someone in need either. He pushed through a final layer of brush and halted, throwing his hands in the air.

The scene was one Paul would never forget. The wild men of Colton had become wilder.

A shirtless Jesse stretched over Skye, one hand holding his bunched-up shirt to her bloody middle, the other on the leafy ground steadying him. His body shielded her as his stare fixed on Paul as he emerged from the brush. A look of pure resolve covered Jesse's young face.

Dylan stood guard, taunt and towering over both the woman and boy. Ready, with his crossbow in hand, and an icy glare in his eyes. Wade stood to his left, his own bow raised and his jaw firm.

If Paul wasn't already certain of their fierce determination to protect Skye, the low growl he swore was coming from the three of them proved it.

Paul's heart thumped. He had seconds to speak before an arrow found a bullseye in him. "I'm Paul, a doctor. I'm the doctor from-"

"From Colton," Wade said.

With those words, the weapons dropped, and Dylan motioned him over, his fierce expression turning to worry. "Can you help her, Doc?"

On his way, Paul saw four men laid out on the ground, two beaten, one twisted up, and one shot dead. He glanced at Dylan out of the side of his eye. How glad Paul was to be on the right side of the Wild Cole Brothers. He didn't say a word. It was clear these men would receive no treatment until Skye was cared for.

Crouching beside Skye, he examined her. Dylan, Wade, and Jesse barely gave him enough room, but he managed. Blood oozed from the numerous cuts covering her body and face. Several large bruises already formed including one on her forehead. Her shoulder was at an odd angle. Paul winced hoping it was an easy fix. The bullet would be, by far, her most serious injury. He worried it nicked her an organ.

While working, Paul glanced at Jesse. "How is it you and Skye are here with the Coles?"

"Skye, Wade, and Dylan saved me from my dad. We live with them now."

Paul looked at Dylan. Dylan stared back as if daring Paul to object.

Paul didn't. Instead, he said, "I should be able to help her, as long as there isn't more damage than I'm anticipating once I get in there."

"Okay, where?" Dylan quickly scanned the area. "How soon?"

"Back in the parking lot. I have a mobile medical trailer."

When Dylan rush to pick up Skye, Paul put a hand out to stop him. "Whoa, carefully, carefully. Slow and easy, that's the way we do this."

Dylan gave a sharp nod. "I can do that."

* * *

Dylan wiped the sweat from his forehead before he gently picked Skye up. His body was out of control, sweating and chilling at the same time. If Dylan let himself think at all, his mind immediately went to life without her. He was terrified.

Dylan did what he had seen Skye do many times. He hauled in a deep breath and slowly let it out. He could do this. Pick her up and walk back to the parking lot. Everything would be okay. The instant those words ran through his mind, he regretted it. They felt like a lie.

On the trip through the woods, Skye groaned a few times, and Dylan reassured her. She didn't fully wake, and everyone was grateful for that.

Once they arrived at the medical trailer, Dylan carefully laid Skye on the exam table. He leaned over her, and tenderly pushed her hair out of her bloodied face.

"Darlin'?"

Her green eyes fluttered open. Skye uttered a low groan but offered a little smile when she saw Dylan looking down at her.

"Dylan." She attempted to raise a hand to touch his face. When Skye failed, Dylan took her hand in both of his larger ones and bent his cheek to her. He needed to feel her warm touch. They gazed at each other before Skye drifted off again.

Paul started an IV. When he saw Dylan watching him, he explained. "Fluids. And meds to keep her sedated while I do my work." Then Paul turned to Dylan, attempting the most dangerous task he needed to perform, asking this man to leave. ”Dylan, if you would like to step out, I can begin."

"I ain't goin anywhere."

"Dylan, I need to concentrate on this. I can't do that if a family member is here. So if you could step out."

Dylan stared at Paul, letting him know what he thought. He didn't move.

Paul ignored his stubbornness. It wasn't the first time and wouldn't be the last someone worried about their loved one. "And if you could send Bre in here, she will assist me."

"She's a kid. I'll help you." Dylan's gruff voice broke. "I -- I sent her out there. I did this. I can't leave her now, don't ask it."

"I don't know what happened, but I know you would never intentionally hurt this woman. You mooned over her before this all started. Frankly, I didn't think you stood a chance." Paul laughed. "Guess I was wrong."

"I didn't. Then the world ended, and everything changed." Dylan bent his head over Skye.

Paul put a hand on Dylan's shoulder. "You don't want to be here. I promise Bre is an excellent assistant. This would be a good time to get those men who did this back here and locked up in one of those trucks."

Dylan nodded. Keeping busy probably was the best thing. But before Dylan answered, a bang at the door and raised voices alerted them to Jesse's presence. "I wanna see her, and you can't stop me!"

Dylan grimaced, seeing himself in Jesse. "Let the boy see her, then we'll go and let you be about your work."

Paul nodded, and Dylan opened the door. Jesse burst in almost tripping into the vehicle as he did so.

Dylan righted him. "Hey, slow it down, boy."

Jesse fixed his gaze on Paul. "Did you fix her?"

"Not yet, as soon as you've seen her."

Jesse moved to Skye's side and looked down at her. "But you're gonna, right?" Jesse pleaded as he raised his hope-filled eyes back to Paul.

That was something a doctor could rarely answer with certainty, and Dylan knew it. He saved Paul from being forced to respond. "He's gonna do his best. Say what ya want to say, and we'll let him get to it."

Jesse laid his head on Skye's upper arm and moved her hand to sit on the back of his head mimicking the many times she'd smoothed his hair. He stayed there for a minute murmuring in her ear before standing up and scrubbing at his eyes. Jesse narrowed his eyes at Paul. "You better do a good job!"

"My very best, I swear."

"Okay, then." Jesse threw another suspicious look over his shoulder at Paul as he left.

* * *

Paul was pretty sure Dylan felt the same as Jesse. As he laid out his tools, he wondered how prim, proper Skye Jackson had gotten all tangled up with the Cole boys. Clearly, she and Dylan had a thing going on. Paul mainly knew her in a professional capacity. He would never have guessed this grit and determination lay under all that make-up and heels.

Paul chuckled. Well, you just never know, do you?

Forty

The End of Me

Dylan whistled sharply and nodded Jesse to follow him. They walked together to the box truck on the opposite side of the parking lot from the woods.

Dylan pointed at the vehicle. "If I can get that runnin, it'll be good for transporting the prisoners."

"Why are we doin this? We should be with Skye!"

"Best to let the Doc do what he's gotta. This'll keep us busy."

Jesse crossed his arms. "Busy don't mean I'll forget what's going on."

"No, it don't."

Dylan tried to shove any thought of what might be happening to Skye away. If he thought about that, he'd go crazy. And if he were honest with himself, it wouldn't bother him one bit to shoot those three in the head right here and let them rot. Not after what they had done to his woman and boy.

They were murderers and rapists. Destroyers. The one admitted it. If they were going to live by the gun, then they shouldn't be surprised when they died by one.

But he knew Tom tried to keep the law, as best he could. Dylan had been helping him do that. Now wasn't the time to be changing, no matter how much he wanted. Dylan trusted that Tom would handle the situation to his satisfaction. Those men would die at some point. If Dylan needed to wait a bit to help Tom, he could do that.

The box truck's engine roared to life when Dylan hot-wired it. He climbed into the driver's seat to find Jesse hurriedly rubbing at his tear-stained face with his shirt's long sleeve.

"You okay?" Dylan asked Jesse.

"I'm worried 'bout her."

"Yeah. Me too." Dylan patted the boy on the shoulder. Jesse seemed small sitting in the ample passenger's seat, but he was old enough. "I want you to see what happens to men that act like they do. You took what they dished out, and I'm proud of how ya did. Now you get the satisfaction of retribution."

Jesse's lips thinned as his face hardened. "What are we gonna do?"

"We're gonna load them, none too gently, into this truck like the animals they are and take 'em to town. Then we are gonna gladly watch as the law does its worst to them. They're gonna die Jesse."

"Good. They wanted my mom to die." Jesse glanced away and back. "What about my dad?"

Dylan was careful to keep his face impartial. "What do you want done?"

"Can we -- can we bury him?"

"We can do whatever you want."

Jesse nodded and looked up at Dylan. "He saved me, you know. And Skye too. He pushed the gun so it didn't kill her. That's why Calvin killed him."

Dylan raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know that.” It seemed, in the end, Frankie did something right. "We'll have a real nice burial for him."

Jesse rubbed his eyes again. "I'm sad even though he wasn't -- well, he wasn't--"

Dylan squeezed Jesse's shoulder. "We always love our parents, even when they don't deserve it. Can't help ourselves. Nothin to feel bad about."

Jesse nodded.

Dylan and Wade wrestled Calvin and Pete into the back of the truck as Jesse stood guard. If they needed to bash the vile degenerates now and again to get them to cooperate, they weren't overly upset about it.

Dylan, Wade, and Jesse stood over Tony. "This the one who wanted you dead?" Wade asked.

"Yep."

Wade kicked at Tony. "What d'you plan for this boy?"

Tony's gaze slid away. Dylan and Wade dragged him, screeching, through the woods and threw him onto the floor of the truck. They weren't too sure he'd make it back to Colton, but that didn't worry them much.

After that, they loaded Gregory and his men into the box truck too. Then they leaned on the bumper of a car facing the medical vehicle and willed the doors to open and everything to be okay.

It seemed forever before Paul stepped out. Dylan felt his heart sink, and the blood leave his face. He couldn't live without her. He couldn't--

Paul glanced up and smiled. Dylan sighed away all his anxiety.

Paul clapped Dylan on the shoulder. "She did real good. There wasn't near the damage I worried about. She's still out. Give her a minute to rest while I patch up these two," Paul indicated Aaron and Curt, "then I'll take you in to see her."

Wade smacked Dylan and Jesse on the back as they all beamed. "Looks like we might all make it home in one piece after all."

"I'm sure hopin so," Dylan said.

When Paul led them into the trailer, Skye rested easy. In spite of the low lighting, it was clear her color was better, and the blood washed from her face.

Dylan eased his way to her side and tenderly took her hand. "I remember the first day I saw her." He shot a quick glance at Wade. "Walkin down the sidewalk with that saucy way she has, in those fool-headed heels of hers. I've never cared much for those, but I knew right then, she could wear whatever she wanted." He chuckled as he slowly shook his head.

"Then the day Skye ran smack right into me, and I moved her out of the way. For the first time, I touched her." A smile curved the edges of his mouth. How had he got so lucky? Dylan's brow knitted. "When I saw her on the side of the road, my heart stopped. It stopped, Wade. I wanted her so bad I would've done anything she wanted. And it scared me to death. I knew it'd be the end of me. And I was right. From then to now, I've never wanted to be away from her, not for a day or an hour, even a minute. Every time I am, I'm just counting the seconds to when I'm near her again."

"I know, little brother," Wade said, "I know. I told ya, you got it bad."

"It ain't easy, bro."

"It sure ain't."

Skye stirred, her hand inching toward her gunshot wound until Jesse stopped her by taking it in his. "Hey, Mom."

"Hey, Baby," she said softly, opening her eyes and squeezing his hand.

She gave Wade, who stood at her opposite side, a smile before turning her eyes to Dylan. Carefully, he smoothed her hair from her forehead. "You're all patched up, darlin'. You ready to go home?"

"I am." Skye's green eyes were brilliant for a minute before turning hard. "Did you get them?"

"I did. We did. We got the degenerates all loaded up, ready to take to Tom. Then I'll just wait for the word."

Skye knew what he meant. He waited for the day he would play executioner. "They are evil, Dylan. The things they said they did."

"Don't you worry about that. We'll get it all figured out."

Skye nodded, putting her full trust in him that they would. Her eyelids drooped, she was still sleepy from the anesthesia.

Paul noticed. "If everything's ready out there, the best time to transport her is while she's sleeping."

"Sure thing, Doc," Wade said, "We're all ready."

All the supplies had been reloaded in a second box truck found at the back of the store. Aaron tried to drive, but given his beaten state had trouble. Paul sent Kelsey over to them.

As the timid girl got behind the wheel, Aaron and Curt exchanged a glance.

Paul laughed. "Yes, I know she's tiny, but she's a good driver. I have her take turns on that thing." He pointed to the medical trailer that was almost as long as a bus.

Curt leaned forward looking over his brother to see her. "How old are you, girl?"

Kelsey shot him a displeased look. "I'm fourteen, which means nothing now. I've been on my own for a while. So I -- I know how to do things, like drive big trucks."

Paul chuckled. "I leave you in good hands."

On their way out of the superstore's parking lot, Dylan looked back at his now bullet-riddled shiny new black truck and Skye's bright blue Jeep. He grimaced. Being a new truck owner hadn't lasted long. Surely there was a car lot somewhere with another pickup with his name on it. And he'd keep his eye open for another blue Jeep so he'd see Skye's dark hair waving in the wind.

In the meantime, he would enjoy hitting every pothole and dip in the road while listening to the thumps, curses, and moans of the rotten men in the back of the truck.

As they took the curve overlooking the store, Wade pointed back to the plaza. "Shoulda hit up that medical supplies place back there while we were at it."

"Doc, didn't say he was low on anything, did he?" Dylan asked.

"No, he didn't mention nothin."

"Let's worry about that another day then." Dylan put the truck in gear and roared up the hill. "I'm more’n ready to get home."

Forty-One

The Beginning of Them

Skye woke to bright morning sun and the bang of a hammer against wood. She smelled breakfast cooking before she heard it. The sizzle of eggs in the pan and a curse from Dylan right before something crashed.

"You okay in there?"

"Yep. Don't you worry about it."

Skye smiled. Dylan had been incredibly bossy with her since she'd been injured. Though she had to admit if the roles were reversed, she would be the same. Skye's injuries had been dangerous enough for constant monitoring, so if everything else hadn't scared him, that did. And he got pushy when he was scared. But then, Dylan was rather pushy all the time.

Skye didn't remember the trip back to the cabin. But as soon as they were able, Wade, Dylan, and Jesse caught her up on everything. Calvin, Pete, Tony, Gregory, and his men were all in Tom's jail awaiting trial. Tom wanted to do this by the book, and he'd somehow found a judge willing to make the trip to Colton to oversee the proceedings.

Jesse had given his dad a beautiful burial. Surprisingly, most of the Colton had turned up for it. Skye was sure that was more for Jesse than for his father. But in the end, Frankie had done the right thing, and it had cost him his life. Jesse could be proud of that, proud of his father now.

Tom and Tricia, along with the other Colton townsfolk, were preparing nearby empty cabins for their move to the mountain. Each time a hammer hit a nail, Skye got a little happier. Soon all her family would be together.

Dylan made his way over with Skye's breakfast. He handed her the plate and sat on the bed beside her. He took her hand, as he always did, with a slight question in his eyes. Dylan was sure of his own emotions but continued to be a little vulnerable about hers. Skye squeezed his hand, reassuring him as she did each time he came to her. His head dipped a little as he looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

From a clinical point of view, it made sense to Skye that it would take time for him to know their relationship was real. From a personal, though, she hoped it wasn't too long. Though a timid Dylan was rare and charming.

Already it was fading as Dylan cleared his throat and sat straighter. "Eat your breakfast now."

"You know, you're entirely too bossy for my taste lately." Skye laughed.

"Me? Woman, how dare you. You've been bossin me around for days."

"What?" she started to argue but looking around at where he pointed, she saw everything she'd ordered him to fetch. She shrugged and giggled, then raised his hand and kissed the back of it. "Okay, we're both bossy."

Taking a bite of fluffy eggs, she moaned her appreciation. The man sure knew how to cook. They ate quietly for a while, enjoying the peaceful time together. Skye looked around the cabin, then at Dylan. "I'm just happy to be safe at home."

Dylan let out a huff then stood and walked to the window. He leaned an arm against the trim as he stared outside. Skye wasn't sure what she said to provoke his reaction, but he would tell her if she gave him the time. It didn't take long.

"Skye, there ain't no place that's safe." Skye could tell from his low rough tone this wasn't something he wanted to discuss but felt he needed to.

"But-"

"No, there ain't." He turned back to Skye. Dylan threw his hand out. Exaggerated gestures meant he was upset, he needed her to understand. "Sometimes you take the longest time to get something in your head. All that's happened, and ya still don't get it? You're always lookin for the safe place but there ain't one. There never was. Do you think that Wade and I or Jesse had a safe place, ever? We've always been looking for the next blow. It's always coming from somewhere. You just have to figure out where. That big, fancy life you had, you didn't live in the real world. You lived in an illusion, a bubble, and you're still tryin to. It's time to stop. It's gonna get ya killed."

Dylan had lived in an entirely different world than she had before all this. He knew things, things that kept him alive, things that kept them all alive.

She needed to respect that. Dylan was right her big, fancy life had seemed safe. Yes, she'd had problems, large ones. But if she was honest, most of those were of her own making, nothing like Dylan's troubles.

While she needed to believe most people were good, there had always been those types like Calvin, who could quickly turn to evil if they let themselves. And there had always been those who only kept civility because they were forced to.

Dylan would view it differently, as the sad experiences in his life trained him to see it. He saw everyone as bad until they proved otherwise.

Skye lived in his world now. Seeing it Dylan's way was how she would stay safe, how she would help keep Jesse and her family safe.

"I understand, and I will work on that," she said in a quiet voice. "Still, I'm happy to stay home for a while, anyway. All this running around, climbing mountains, getting beat up and shot at is really not me."

Skye's effort to diffuse Dylan's emotion worked, and he smiled. "Really, I wouldn't've guessed that."

"Come here. Sit with me." When Dylan settled on the bed, she took his hand in one of hers. Skye raised the other to the side of his face and stroked his stubbled jaw. "I promise I won't do anything to jeopardize this family. Only save it. I trust you, I follow you, I love you. You just say the word, and I'm right there with you."

"Just say the word?"

"Yep."

"Anything I want?"

Skye laughed. "Anything within reason."

Dylan snorted. "Oh, now it's within reason. Always a catch with you."

Skye pulled at Dylan, raising her lips to his, savoring him when they met. Then she laid her head on his shoulder and breathed in his scent. This was exactly where she wanted to be. "I love you."

"I love ya too, darlin'."

Skye was a bit surprised the words came so quickly to him. "That's the second time you've said that. Some people have trouble with that."

"I've said it a lot more than two times. You just weren't awake to hear it." He pulled back a little and laid his forehead on hers, gazing into her eyes. "It ain't hard to say it to you, not at all."

Skye smiled and kissed him again. "It's a big deal."

He tried to dismiss it. "Yeah, whatever."

"No, not whatever. It means a lot to me." Skye ran her hand through Dylan's thick hair then teased him. "But I have to ask, the first time you told me you loved me, I get the crazy and terrible but wonderful? That's a bit optimistic for you, isn't it?"

"Yeah, well, I was in the moment," he smirked. "Don't hold it against me."

"Oh, I'm going to." Skye moved closer, wrapping her good arm around him. "I'm so going to hold it against you."

"Stop," he said even as he pulled her tighter.

The sudden pounding of feet on the wooden porch prepared them for Jesse's arrival. "We really need our own room," Dylan said, complaining about his one-room cabin, as he pulled away, grimacing his displeasure at the interruption.

Jesse chatted non-stop about his part in the building work. She recalled when it took everything she had to get him to say more than two words at the same time. A warm glow started as he continued his animated story. This was her son. She helped Jesse become this, something he would never have been without her.

"Come here." Skye waved him over when he stopped to take a breath.

"Not again!" Jesse moaned as he moved closer.

"Hugs on demand for the foreseeable future." Skye reminded him with her arm stretched toward him.

"Are ya gonna cry this time?" The boy eyed her wearily.

"I'm trying not too."

Jesse made an exasperated sound as he moved in for the forced affection. Skye kept it short, then ruffled his hair as he found a spot for himself on the bed.

Her face softened as she looked at Wade, who trailed in behind Jesse and now stood in the doorway, then to the boy and Dylan. This disease had taken so much from her, but it had also given her so much. Her family. A family she would never have had.

A man she would never have had.

Skye reached for Dylan's hand, interlacing her smooth fingers with his rough ones. Sometimes love didn't come with crashing cymbals and bright lights.

Sometimes it came quietly, in a small gesture or a touch. Something that began deep inside and grew until it breathed with every breath and throbbed with every heartbeat. Only then could one see it for what it was.

This was the strongest, surest love. One Skye was certain was right and true.

There had been no dressing up, no dating, just a quiet merge of two lives. A look between the two of them, a step toward each other, a matching of strides and there it was.

The beginning of them.

Sanctuary’s Aggression 4: The Girl

This box set is compiled in the order in which the books were written.

The Girl is a short backstory about Kelsey, who will continue to appear in the series.

The prequel books, The Beginning and The Atlantis Cure, can be read first or where they are located in the box set.

The prequels are important to the conclusion of the series.

Thank you for reading the series. :)

Copyright © 2019 Maira Dawn

All rights reserved.

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and a resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

Cover Art by Maira Dawn

Contents

1. Fenton

2. The Diary

3. Another World

4. Boyfriends

5. Dirt

6. Under Normal Circumstances

7. Sirens

8. Jason

9. Only Dad and Me

10. Breathing

11. Endings

12. Never Be Alone

One

Fenton

No one walking the streets of Fenton, West Virginia in July would have recognized it come September. Known as number five on Best Living's Top Ten Most Beautiful Cities of the South, it was a jewel set among the beauty of the Appalachian Mountains.

Since the outbreak, it was something else altogether.

Abandoned vehicles littered the street. Some parked, one or more doors ajar, along sidewalks as if the drivers stopped, hopped out for an errand and never came back. Most vehicles, though, offered no rhyme or reason to the way they were left.

Cars and trucks crossed lines, lanes, and even walkways. Windshields and windows were cracked. Sometimes doors were completely missing.

The intersection of Fifth and Elm held the sight of an accident that would stay forever memorialized on this street. Below an unlit traffic light, a smashed smart car was under a crushed SUV that was under a semi, the remains of the drivers still in their seats.

If a person could pull away and view the streets from above, they would find the once bustling city almost empty of any healthy humans. A few huddled in what they hoped would be safe places.

Others preyed on them.

Through this chaos, one lonely girl picked her way through the ruined road, forlorn and despondent. Her hodgepodge of stained clothes too large for the small frame she inherited from her Asian grandmother. Her brown curly hair, once her pride, scraped back off her face, unwashed and limp.

Not long ago, a walk down this fashionable street would have been a pleasant and eagerly anticipated outing for her but not today. Now, she walked with slow, careful steps, her eyes alert and her body tense for the dangers awaiting her.

Death couldn’t come quick enough. It happened to everyone. Why couldn’t it just do it and be done with her. She cursed her instincts, the ones that took hold when danger wrapped its long arms around her. They had her fighting running, trying to save her pitiful life.

She wished they would stop.

At the infamous intersection, she peeked around the stack of cars. She was alone.

Always make certain you’re safe, Kelsey. Check as many times as you need to.

It was his voice she heard when she struggled to live — her dad’s. He had taught her safety before all this started, and continued to instruct her after.

Kelsey did as he advised and checked again before continuing down the deserted road. She peeked into the wrecked vehicles as she did each time she walked this road. Where were all the drivers? Did they get sick and just walk away? It was a mystery she would never solve.

A few of the vehicles still carried their decayed, stinking passengers. For these, Kelsey held her nose and stepped a bit faster.

Reaching the end she slowed, dragging one foot in front of the other. Her boot disturbed the dust on the road. She let out a deep sigh.

Every day she walked a few blocks around the city and made sure her little nest was safe while looking for some way out of this place. But each lap left her with less and less hope.

I was done with all this long ago.

An eerie wind whistled through the open doors and windows of the downtown buildings, pulling curtains from their window casements. The tattered cloth waved at Kelsey in the same way a shredded flag waves surrender on a battlefield.

I’m not the one to surrender to, I’ve already given up.

Kelsey's over-large cowboy boots scuffed along the road. Little puffs of dust scattered into the wind behind her. Though the sound seemed insignificant, there was a slight echo from the silent city walls.

It’s so noisy. I can’t hear anything she’s saying.

For a moment, her friends walked beside her. She shook her head. This happened too often lately.

No. They’re not here. No one is here with you. Don’t think of that, think of the shoes.

Kelsey glanced down at the red leather boots she had taken from the looted store. The already smashed window lured her with its easy pickings. Still, she felt guilty about taking them, regardless of her need.

She’d grabbed the first pair she saw and ran as if there were someone still around who cared, and now she paid for it. They were too big for her small feet, so she scuffed.

Better than stepping barefoot on all the glass. At least my feet are healing now.

She reached down and pulled on the top of the boots, running her hand down the smooth leather. Since her family had moved here, she'd harped on them to buy her a pair of boots. Nothing even as grand as these. To have the shoes now and not them made her stomach hurt.

Maybe I’ll look for something else today.

She wouldn't. Every day she thought it, and instead each day she wandered through the empty streets picking at garbage and scavenging food whenever she could, her emotionless face showing little connection with this world.

The scrape of metal on metal echoed down the road. Trembling, Kelsey ducked behind a car waiting for the next sound. How close were they? Did she have time to run? She couldn’t let them catch her again.

Crouching behind a Chevy, she peeked up through the bottom edge of a cracked window. Her gaze darted left to right and back again.

No one. Maybe.

Kelsey scrambled onto the hood of the car and scanned the area. When she was satisfied, she continued her journey.

An unfamiliar garbage pile caught her eye. Perhaps there was something good in it. Leisurely, she picked through the trash, tossing aside what she didn't want and putting what she considered valuable in a small shopping tote she carried with her. A can of green beans went into the bag. Old rotting vegetable peels tossed to the ground. Thank goodness, she could still be picky, but how long would that last?

Kelsey hardly remembered the last time she saw a garbage truck driving through the city. It hadn't taken long for the outbreak to take hold here. A city had too many people in too small of a place, and sicknesses spread quick. After that last green garbage truck, everyone had piled trash in the streets.

It wasn’t all that bad. It helped her scavenge easier. Breaking into homes would be so much harder. Of course, sometimes she came across a body in the piles. Kelsey shuddered.

She picked at something in the garbage heap. Halfway through the stack was the sharp corner of what seemed like a book. She put her thin fingers around it and pulled.

Nope. Not a book. A diary.

Two

The Diary

The diary’s front pages were torn away. It had no cover and no name. A sadness came over Kelsey, an emotion she hadn't known she was capable of any longer. Surely all her sadness had been used up long ago, but no, here it was playing with her again.

She skimmed over the words of what was now the top page, reading around the stains.

Normal. I’d almost forgotten that.

Kelsey raised her head and squinted at the tall smoke-damaged city building closest to her. Not what it was now.

She tightened her grip on the book, looking up and down the street to make sure it was safe. Then she smoothed out a neighboring pile of junk, pulling an old, thick blanket that rested on the top over it and sat down. She wiggled into it creating a little nest of sorts. Doing this made her seem more garbage than human, it was how she had hidden in plain sight many times before.

Kelsey laid the book on her lap. Don’t do this. No good will come of it. Ignoring her own advice, she began to read.

Three

Another World

July 15

Mall Day with Anna!!! If there is anything that makes a regular day a better day, it's got to be the mall! Because, for the most part, it's the only place I'm allowed to go with my friends.

I bought an eyeliner. Not normal eyeliner, amazing eyeliner! The kind you can never find, that glides right on, no problem, and stays on too, no smudges, mudges or mess.

Oh man, I can't stop giggling. I sound like a make-up commercial.

Anna found a pair of jeans. She thought they were great. I thought they were meh. But it's her butt, and she was stuck on those jeans, So, I thought I should, you know, support my friend, bad butt or no.

* * *

Kelsey raised her head and closed her eyes, letting the slight wind lift her hair. How childish the words seem, how innocent.

To care about such silly things as malls, shopping, and all that punctuation seemed overwhelmingly stupid now that living was a struggle. It was as if those small concerns belonged to another world. Kelsey heaved a deep sigh. They had.

Put the book down. Walk away. But she gripped the diary tighter.

The story means nothing anymore. Kelsey shook her head. No, that wasn’t true. It is important, all stories are. And if some part of her had forgotten that, by the end of the diary it would all come back.

Four

Boyfriends

July 16

I saw Jason! I swear a bright, shiny light surrounds that guy.

I was coming from the JCPenny's end of the mall with my friends, and he was coming from Macey's end of the mall with his friends. And we just sorta -- met up.

So, we headed to, yep, the food court. Where else? Anna was all for it, she likes one of Jason’s friends. It went great until we got kicked out cause a couple of Jason's stupid friends decided to have a food fight.

Anyway, I couldn't stop looking at him!

I caught him looking at me a couple of times. So maybe...

Great night, wonderful night, fantastic night until I got home and saw my parents watching a crazy video they found on YouTube. They were so serious about it too. The guy was shot by the cops a whole bunch of times and wouldn't go down. Creepy!

See, this is what happens when old people get hold of tech.

July 17

Can't go out. The parentals think the world is too dangerous. Pfft, where have they lived, like, all of my life!

I feel like I should be running around the house in a kilt and a blue face shouting, "You can take away my... um, something, but you can never take away my freedom!" But I don't have a kilt or any blue face paint. And I can't leave the house, so...

This is what I get for watching Braveheart three times in the last twenty-four hours. Hey, there's nothing else to do!

All of this because of some rumor circulated among the parents about the creepy, weird dude on YouTube.

I told them it was a hoax, and they happens all the time. But what do I know, I'm only fourteen?

I guess they don't believe in hoaxes...

July 20

After three very boring days at home with my actual family, ugh, the twins drive me crazy, I made it to the movies today.

That's right, the Real Teens of Fenton City are out and about again. Look out, people!

Before I left the house, the parentals had a long talk with me about self-defense. And they gave me a lot of ideas on what to do that boils down to this -- if I try to shoot someone and they don't die, I need to run. What?

Well, I don’t have a gun, and I wasn't planning on shooting anyone so...

July 22

Jason asked me on a date!!! I’m screaming, literally screaming!

I’m writing this down, so I never forget it. When I’m an old, gray biddy of a woman, I want to remember how it felt when Jason, the most wonderful guy I've ever met, asked me out.

I was sitting on my bed binging Netflix when I got a text that said, "Hi, this is Jason."

Shocked, I stared at the phone for ten minutes before moving. Actually didn’t move. Only stared at the phone.

We started texting a bit. My hands shook so bad! He said he and his friends were going to go to the movies tomorrow night and would me and my friends like to go.

So of course, I text a short, little "yes" while yelling, "Of course, you idiot, of course," so loud my mom came into the room. So, then I realized I needed to ask her if I could go, to which she, thank goodness, laughed with me and said I could go.

Now I need to figure out my outfit, hair, and makeup! Oh, boy.

July 23

It was perfect, no, not only perfect, perfectly perfect!

I will admit, it was a little awkward at first. It is very different meeting up by arrangement rather than by accident. You know what I mean?

You have to converse and keep the other person, you know, entertained. You're checking them out, and they're checking you out, and you both know it. To see if there is something there, something that could become, I don't know, more. Yeah, something more.

After the movie, Jason gestured me over to the side of the lobby, then he lightly touched the back of my hand. He said he had a great time and wanted to go out again.

I almost swooned right there on the lobby carpet, like swooned with a capital S, it was so perfect. Of course, I said yes, right then and there.

July 26

Three days I waited for a text from Jason, and can you believe he was waiting for me to text him? All this time, he was worried I didn't have a good time on the date, and I was worried he didn't!

I told him straight up that I had a great time, and I couldn't wait till our next one. He seemed so happy to hear that.

We sent texts for like an hour before his mother needed him for something.

Do you know how happy I am? I can't even tell you, that's how happy I am!

July 27

Okay, weird…

The parents had the news on during dinner. I don't know why they do that. Between Baby Mariah crying and Frick and Frack, Mick and Mack or whatever and their crazy behavior, we can't hear a thing.

But they all shut up for this. Well, Dad yelled, "Shut up!" super loud, and then they shut up. Some freaky girl in Ohio bit her mom all up. You should have seen the marks. They were... they were horrible. She literally took her mom's skin off.

The girl was all strapped down to a gurney, and she was still trying to bite the paramedics. She was rocking the gurney back and forth trying to get at them, and they are all trying to jump out of the way of her chomping face.

It was disgusting and real creepy. But the worst part is that this is an illness. What kinda flu makes you want to rip the flesh off of someone else?

And then at the end of the segment, the news lady says that there are others with this disease.

What?

I am so freaked out right now...

Five

Dirt

Kelsey raised her head and carefully smoothed the page of the diary.

That's when everything changed, with the girl.

Kelsey remembered the news report about that sick, and it seemed, crazy girl. She leaned against the wall of junk. Who would've guessed it was the beginning of the end? But looking back she could see it now.

She let out a long, slow sigh and picked at the dirty, brown hair clumped over her shoulder. When was the last time she’d washed it? It was hard to remember what clean hair felt like. Did it even matter anymore?

She rubbed her rough hand over a grimy cheek. She’d always been so strict about her facial regimes. Now she was fortunate to find enough water to wash off the worst of the dirt.

Kelsey shot a glance downtown. The last time she tried showering had been a horrifying disaster. After the electric was out, most showers no longer worked. She tried a few of the empty houses she came across with no success. She needed a place with a generator. Picking out the city building closest to her, she started the five-block trek.

Five blocks hadn't been much before, but it was crazy long now. One never knew what was around the corner let alone blocks away, but Kelsey was filthy and determined.

She'd reached the building fine and scanned the outside before going in. It looked safe, and when she pulled on the door, sighed in relief to find it open.

Kelsey crept the darkened hallways looking for an employee area. She stopped and listened for any noise before entering a new place. Finally, ending in the basement, where she found what she was looking for, a working shower. Fluffy white towels were even laid out on a shelf beside it.

She stripped off her dirt-encrusted clothing, laying out a new set to put on when she was clean. Kelsey pulled a bottle of shampoo and a bottle of conditioner she had taken from the trash piles. They each had just enough to get the job done.

Kelsey still remembered the brisk feel of the water as it hit her skin, the soft lather of the shampoo as she kneaded it into her hair and the silkiness of the soap as it slid down her skin. Oh, to feel that again.

Finished and dressed, Kelsey stood in front of a mirror as she combed her hair when she heard it. The slap of shoes on the cement floor. A sliver of fear ran through her, and she froze before scanning the area. There was nowhere to hide other than the shower stall, and her tell-tale watery footprints said everything. Kelsey grabbed her pack to make a run for it, but it was too late.

A gun came through the door first, and then a man. He swung the weapon her way and held it on her as he put his back to the block wall. “Well, well, what do we have here?”

Kelsey eyed him but didn’t say a word.

When he demanded her name, she told him but clammed up again. It was only when he lowered his gun, Kelsey could begin to think. The man wasn’t all that tall and was a bit on the tubby side, she may be able to outrun him. Her heart sank as she scanned the distance from him to the door. He was closer to it than she was.

“We have a group,” he said, “we can take care of you if you are alone. Are you by yourself?”

The question felt like a trap so she lied. “No, my dad’s with me.”

The man’s eyes flew to the door. “Oh, yeah? Where’s he at?”

“Just waiting. I better go.”

The gun came back up. “Your dad can be part of our group too, though we have a lot of men. Ladies on the other hand…”

The way his voice trailed off and the look he gave her made her feel sick. Kelsey took a step toward the door. “Let me go. I want to go to my dad.”

“Sure, we’ll do that. Tell me where he is.”

Kelsey’s mind worked in overdrive as she tried to think of a way out of this room. She used a tactic she’d seen in an old movie. “Oh look, your shoes untied.”

The man looked down.

Kelsey raced toward him, knocking him against the block wall. His gun clattered to the floor, but Kelsey didn’t wait to see what happened.

Flying down the hallway, her new tennis shoes squeaked against the tiled floor. Up a flight of stairs and out the front door. Someone stood there, but shocked by her sudden appearance didn’t move until she was out of sight.

Kelsey had zigzagged through the neighborhood, in and out of backyards and alley until she was sure she had lost them.

After finding a secure house, she had locked every door, drawn every blind and laid panting on the couch. She would never try that again. Dirty was bad, but it wasn’t bad enough for that.

Kelsey twirled a strand of her long hair around her finger and shuddered. Since then she’d often heard screams coming from the building. She’d almost paid a terrible price for clean hair. Her dull eyes scanned the eerie, empty street.

Eerie was bad but she’d found worse. Kelsey was used to the lack of company now. Her laughing, chatting friends were all gone as far as she knew.

Nothing is the same anymore.

She wasn't the same clean, happy girl she once was, but it lifted her spirits to visit the way things were even for a little while. She should stop reading, right here, right now.

You know what’s coming. What will come for the girl in the diary, for me, for everyone. What still comes.

Death.

Kelsey scrubbed the tears from her eyes and glanced at the diary, once then twice. She couldn't stop. The bit of imagined normalcy pulled her back in. Her reluctant fingers toyed with the diary, then inched the page over and she began to read.

Six

Under Normal Circumstances

July 28

So... yeah. Now I am stuck at home again.

No way I can convince the parents that the news was an Internet hoax, though honestly, doesn't it feel like it is most of the time?

I'm trying to hide from all my siblings by staying in my room. I mean, they know I'm in here, where else would I be? But if they don't see me maybe they will forget about me and then I don't actually have to talk to them.

So far, so good.

July 29

No more word on this mysterious sickness. Mom promised that if we don't hear any more about it, then I can go out with my friends and Jason.

Jason and I are texting like crazy. He's imprisoned in his home too, but he's an only child, so score for him.

I love seeing his little picture light up my screen when a new text comes in.

And he likes me! He really, really likes me!

July 30

So can you believe it? Mom's letting me out of the house. Dad has been going to work, and no one is sick there. She checked, and there are no cases of that disease here in Fenton.

I hope Ohio keeps it up there.

Everything would be perfect, except that Jason can't come out and play. He has a cold. Don't worry, Diary, he called me, and said he doesn't feel that bad. He doesn't sound sick at all only a little stuffy.

He'll be fine.

I'll miss him but a day with friends is better than being stuck here.

I'm off.

And I'm back and adding this-

Jason asked me to be his girlfriend! Can you even believe it!

Yes, it was through a text which would, under normal circumstances, be lame but with everything going on is quite okay.

Of course, I said yes right away, maybe even before he was finished asking the question!

He's so amazing!

July 31

I haven't heard from Jason in, like, 12 hours now. I know. It's not like we're married or anything, but he was texting me constantly. Now nothing for 12 hours.

I'm worried.

I’m watching the news and people are protesting that sick people have rights and shouldn't be quarantined. I know it may seem harsh, but it's also kinda necessary if you don't want the whole world to get sick.

August 1

I still haven't heard from Jason, so I asked Mom to call his mom. When Jason’s mom didn't answer her phone, my mom started asking around.

Jason is in the hospital. Their neighbor said it happened really fast. He was fine one minute and couldn't breathe the next, but last they heard he was doing okay.

I begged mom to go see Jason, but she said it isn't safe. If this is the chomping disease, we need to stay far away. I get it, I really do, but I want to see Jason.

I'm so, so scared for him.

August 2

The baby got sick last night.

* * *

Kelsey ran a hand over her face. Everyone lost someone, maybe all the someones in their life. How many had she lost?

She pictured them all, one by one, from the first to the last. Then silent as the city around her, she hugged herself and slowly rocked side to side.

A tear rolled down her face, fell onto the opened diary and joined the other dried tears that had stained the book long ago.

Her dirty finger ran down the page tracing one of them. I'm the last one now.

Seven

Sirens

August 2

The baby got sick last night.

One minute she was fine, then she started coughing, gagging as if she couldn't catch her breath.

Dad called the ambulance, and Mom went to the hospital with her. The ambulance’s red light flashed all around me as they took Mom and the baby away. It felt like it was the end of something, and I was sinking down into the front yard.

Mariah is so little. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Do babies get through this better?

Dad talked to Mom and so far, the baby is doing okay. He says Mom will let us know when we can go and see her.

There are sirens everyone. Ambulance sirens taking away the sick ones, and cop sirens taking away the bad ones. Riots break out all the time now. Dad says it's even dangerous getting groceries, so he watches the news and carefully picks the time of day to go.

The news said some pyro is starting fires on the South side of the city, but so far, they've been able to put them out.

Aren't things bad enough without people adding to the chaos?

* * *

Kelsey turned the page, her dirty fingers leaving smudge marks on its edge. The next one was blank. Her mouth turned down. She studied the empty page before continuing on.

Eight

Jason

August 3

August 4

I couldn't write yesterday. I just couldn't.

We went to the hospital to see the baby, and the great thing is, she does seem to be doing okay. So of course, I got bored and irritated at being stuck in the room, especially as the twins were so out of control. I'm surprised they didn't kick us out of the hospital, the way those two acted.

I told Mom I was going to get water or something. She loaded me up with a list of food and drinks for the entire family, then she made sure my gown, gloves, and mask were secure, and off I went.

But before getting the food, I stopped by the nurses' station and asked what room Jason was staying in. No way I could be so close and not check on him.

I was so happy I was going to see him, that's what I remember, bright, shiny happiness.

The door said Family Only, but a girlfriend is like family, right? And that is the last thing he texted me, that I was his girlfriend.

I shoved open the heavy door. It resisted, pushing back against me. I think now it was trying to hold me back from what was inside.

The room was dim with no light other than what the darkening sky offered, only a small glow through the window.

As my eyes adjusted, I thought -- I thought he slept. Peering through the shadowy room, I saw his face turned away from me. I tiptoed over to him, smiling.

I would watch him wake up and see how happy he was to see me. But the closer I got; the more things did not make sense. Somehow, they didn't register. I didn't get it.

Straps held his arms to the bedside. I huffed, wondering why they would do that to him. I wanted to help him, so I walked closer.

Jason's hand twitched. I heard a low groan.

He’s waking up. I smiled and reached out, laying my hand on the bed railing.

Another moan.

He must be having a nightmare. I'll kiss him awake, and he'll feel better.

My mind refused to see what was literally right in front of me.  I lowered my mask and leaned up over the bed railing so my lips could reach Jason's cheek.

Dried, bloody spit covered the lower part of his pale face.

That is odd. That was exactly like the girl --

Before the thought finished crossing my mind, Jason turned, lunging at me.

Or what had been Jason.

Horrified I jumped back, my foot catching on a chair. I fell as the chair skittered and banged across the floor causing a racket that fueled Jason's rage.

His upper body arched off the bed. His eyes blazed as he tried to reach me, whining and growling. Only his restraints held him in check.

A nurse rushed into the room and turned on the light. It was then I clearly saw what my beautiful Jason had become.

Much of his tan skin was now so blue it was hard to tell he had ever been another color. Bloody foam dripped from his mouth as his beautiful eyes wildly darted around the room.

"Jason?" I asked, my outstretched arms pleading. He still had to be in there somewhere.

Jason stilled, his questioning gaze lingering on my face. His mouth worked as he tried to form what words his delirious brain allowed.

He called to me, garbled and slurred, but clear enough.

He knew me! I stood and tentatively walked toward him. Jason held his tethered hand out to me as well as he could, palm up, begging me to come to him. Tears filled his eyes, then escaped making little trails through the blood splatters on his face.

My heart seized and fell. I took another step toward him before the nurse lightly laid her hand on my shoulder.

Again, he tried to speak and finally moaned, "I'm sorry."

I gasped, my heart weighing heavy as he struggled with the disease, willing him to overcome it, even though it could never be so.

He lost the battle, twitching a few times before continuing his mindless efforts free himself.

I raised my hands to my mouth, covering my uncontrollable sobs. Tears dripped off my face to the floor below.

My voice cracked as I called out to him again. "Jason?" This time, there was no acknowledgment. He was gone. Bloody spit flung from his face as he twisted and turned searching for freedom. But freedom wouldn't come for him, he would never find it.

My beautiful Jason was a monster.

August 5

The baby died.

All I do is cry now.

Nine

Only Dad and Me

August 6

It's only Dad and me now. Mom and the boys are at the hospital. We came home from burying the baby yesterday and were barely through the front door when the twins sneezed. Both of them in unison. I froze and looked up at Mom and Dad’s pale faces. Her lips quivering, Mom tenderly laid a hand on their foreheads. She squared her shoulders as she said they had a fever and insisted she would go back to the hospital with them.

She and dad fought a bit about who would take them. Someone should stay here with me. They didn't want to risk their last child getting the disease. I know it slipped out, but it was like the boys were already gone.

It's so quiet here now. I miss mom. I even miss the boys.

August 7

Dad has been in touch with Mom. The boys are doing okay so far. Mom talked to some people who said their sister knew some people who were sick and got better.

The news said everyone who catches this dies with no exception, but maybe that's not true. Maybe the boys will get better.

I hope so. I really, really hope so, even if they are a pain in the butt. I wouldn't mind them so much now.

August 8

Dad and I put on our masks and went to the grocery store. Almost everyone wears one now but it's weird. The masks make it hard to breathe, and I hate them. I feel like I'm strangling but then I remember that if I don't wear one, I might suffocate for real. After that, I wonder how the twins are doing. Are they--

So, I try to stop thinking about that.

The shelves were pretty bare at the store, but we were able to get enough groceries to last a couple of days. The grocery guy told Dad that there would be more coming in. It's only low now because people were panicking and buying everything they see, but the store is still getting deliveries. Dad is worried they will soon stop.

As we left the store, Anna and her some of her family entered. We ran to hug each other, but our parents stopped us. We aren't supposed to get that close to other people anymore.

"Anna." For a minute, I could only say her name and stare at her. So much had happened since that day at the movies with her and Jason. It seemed so long ago.

Anna looked at me, her big brown eyes filling with tears.

"Are you doing okay?" I asked. She started crying for real, then I started. I looked at my dad for permission before I reached out and took her gloved hand in mine.

"This is all that's left," Anna said. I knew what she meant, her family. There was only Anna, her mom, and one sister. Her dad, brother, a sister, and her grandparents were gone.

"The baby's gone. The twins are in the hospital. And Jason--" I started saying, but I couldn't finish.

She tipped her head. Her voice became shaky as she listed all our schoolmates who were sick or gone. It was a lot. What would school be like when it started up again in a couple of weeks?

We promised to text each other, but I don't know if we will. Something was happening to us. We were sad and afraid, afraid to be close to anyone.

August 9

The news announced the hospital is filled to capacity, and they are sending people to school gymnasiums, but Mom said the nurses promised the boys would stay where they are.

August 10

The boys are still doing okay. I asked her if they were blue or foamy, and she said they were not. I hope she is telling me the truth.

Dad said we need to forget bad things for a little while. We're playing a different board game every night. We gave up watching TV because they break in with bad news all the time, and it makes us more and more frightened.

I tried to get Dad to watch Netflix, but we couldn't decide on a show so, for now, it's games.

My favorite is Jenga. I always beat his butt.

August 11

School was supposed to start in a week or so, but since this AgFlu thing isn't getting any better and the gyms are filled with the Sick there won’t be any classes yet.

Anna did text me only to tell me about more friends that were sick or gone. I'm glad school is postponed. It will only be a reminder of everyone who’s gone, and of Jason.

But, on the other hand, it would also mean things were normal and normal, I have now decided, is just fine.

I can't wait for normal.

August 12

Mom came home today.

The twins didn't.

I couldn't ask.

I didn't need to.

August 13

August 14

The power goes on and off at all hours without warning. It only adds to this horror show we're living in. It scares me, and it makes everything so much harder. We have to hurry and get everything done while it’s on. Dad says he’s surprised the electricity was on this long.

No air conditioning is the worst in August. Right now, I sure wish we still lived up north.

We can't have a lot of windows open. It makes Mom crazy to have them open because you can hear people coughing, and Mom is worried about the rest of us getting sick. She's either fussing around like everyone is still here or sitting in her room crying. She thinks I don't hear, but I do.

Dad says it is going to get dangerous because people are getting sick and not going to the hospital. Soon they will be like--

I can't think about that.

Dad bought a gun. Mom was so angry with him. It was the biggest fight I've ever seen them have. She wants to go out to the country, but Dad says it is too late to make it there and where would we go anyway.

The country sounds good to me, and West Virginia is full of countryside. We could find somewhere to go.

August 15

It's like I'm numb on the inside. I know what's happened, but it doesn't seem possible that it happened.

Sometimes I wake up and think everything is normal and then I remember.

Sometimes I wake up crying.

August 16

Nothing happens but bad stuff.

I don't want to write down how many people died today or how many of them I knew. Kids who were my friends, that were my brother's friends or my parent's friends, or babies--like ours.

The news tells us that every day.

Dad doesn't want to watch, but Mom can't stop herself. The regular news guy is dead now, and they have had three other newspeople and now this lady. She'll pry die too. They all will.

We all will.

* * *

Kelsey jumped breaking her connection with the story when a bottle clattered onto the pavement and rolled. It was close. Afraid to look, she pulled her feet up and leaned into the pile of junk trying to become one with it. The last time she’d done this, they’d walked right by her.

After a minute or so of silence, she peeked around the stacks of trash. A fluffy black cat widened its green eyes at her. “Oh, Ebony, come here.”

It wasn’t the first time the cat came around, and when Kelsey could she fed it something. She pulled a piece of jerky out of her pocket she’d saved for Ebony and put it in front of her. Ebony immediately aimed for the meat and chewed on it.

Kelsey stroked the cat’s back. “Cats are disgusting when they eat you know.”

Ebony growled at her as she continued attacking the jerky, and Kelsey reminded herself to say nice things to the cat. It’d been a long time since Kelsey last seen Ebony, and she wanted her to stick around. It was lonely without her.

Kelsey waited for the cat to finish eating and picked her up, sitting her on her lap. Ebony stretched, then settled on Kelsey’s lap with a big yawn.

“Good girl,” Kelsey whispered to her as she started reading.

Ten

Breathing

August 17

They were outside last night -- at our doors, at our windows. The Sick. I think I’m going to throw up.

They roam the city now, sometimes in groups, sometimes alone. Last night, we made a mistake, a light was left on. Mom says they only want us to help them. Dad says they don't know what they’re doing, but I think they do. I think they want to do to us what that girl did to her mother.

I heard Mom whispering to Dad. She said most start biting, something to do with the rabies virus. Only the fortunate ones don't get like that, the ones that go quick.

It feels like everyone in the city is sick now, and they are coming.

Coming for us.

August 18

The Sick are still here. Dad made a little spot in the attic. If they get in, we can go up there and pull the door up. We can be safe.

They might have enough sense to climb to the second floor, but Dad says they don't have enough sense to pull down the attic access.

August 19

The Sick moved on. Apparently, we didn't entertain them enough, which was just fine with me. I don't like to think of them terrorizing someone else, but maybe I’ll be able to sleep now.

The electric is out most days now.

There's a fire somewhere, it's been raining ash all day. Mom is freaked out about it, worried a fire in the city will get out of control. We don't even know if there’s a fire department anymore.

Now she spends her day going from one window to the next searching for the fire. Dad told her we would see smoke first, but she doesn’t listen.

I'm worried my mom is going mental.

August 20

We had power for a couple of hours today, but there wasn't any real news. There was a guy on there, but he obviously wasn't a real news guy.

He stammered through the news like a drunken 10-year-old. Not that I know what a drunken 10-year-old would be like, but I imagine a lot like he was giving the news report. He even started talking about people from Atlantis.

Sheesh, I could do better than that.

August 21

They're back.

They are louder this time, moaning and shouting. I can't stand the noise. I put my hands over my ears, but I still hear them.

They just don't stop.

August 22

They started banging on the doors and windows. Some are so sick and stiff they don't make much noise, but some are still strong. They pounded on the windows so hard the glass shook with their efforts. My eyes got bigger and bigger as I waited for them to shatter.

Dad had us pack up and go to the attic.

August 23

The Sick still moved around the house this morning, but by this afternoon they were gone so we climbed down the ladder. As mom's foot touched the landing, she sneezed. She sank to the floor and sobbed.

August 24

Mom hasn't sneezed again. I told her it was probably the dust in the attic, but she shook her head. She doesn't believe me. She says she knows, somehow she just knows she's got it.

But she hasn't sneezed again, so I think she is wrong.

I hope she is wrong.

August 25

Dad says we need more food, but we shouldn't walk all the way to the store. The groups of Sick are out there somewhere, and we don't know where. He decided to scavenge at the neighbor's house.

Mom and I were the lookouts. Mom stood on the front porch and looked down the left side of the road, and I watched the right from the living room window. Dad didn’t want me out of the house. At first, I argued with him, but as I looked down the road my sweaty hand clenched the back of the couch.

My heart pounded so hard I was shaking when Dad walked out of our yard into theirs. What if the neighbors were still in their house and are sick? Or don't want to share their food and fight him? Or what it's just bodies in there?

I couldn't stop shaking until he was back home. He got a couple of bags so at least we don't have to go further, but when we sat down to eat their food, it was weird.

It was a sad night. At dinner, we all started remembering the kids. I don't know why, maybe because before dinner was always this loud, chaotic event. Now it is so quiet, just the sound of the forks scraping the side of the cans.

First, Mom started crying, then Dad and finally me. We all sat there and sobbed as we shoveled cold green beans into our mouths.

I miss them so much.

August 26

Mom started coughing this morning, and she hasn't stopped. Dad told me to stay away from her but I told him if everyone else was going to die, I wanted to die too.

He came over and grabbed me by the arms and said, "You are going to make it. You’re the one who lives."

"And you too Dad! You haven't gotten sick. You'll make it too."

Dad was slow to answer. "Maybe, honey, maybe I will but you for sure."

I started shaking with anger, so I said, "Live for what Dad? And how? If you and Mom aren't here? How am I supposed to do this all by myself? I can't!"

"You can, baby, you're so much stronger than you know."

I kept screaming at him that I couldn't do it until he stopped.

Now, Mom and I are sitting on the couch, my head on her arm like I used to do when I was young, and she is stroking my hair. Her eyes have a faraway look in them as if she's waiting for the AgFlu to take her.

She told Dad if she gets like the others to shoot her. Said it right in front of me. They aren't even trying to hide anything from me anymore.

I hope Mom goes quick. I don't want to see that.

August 27

Someone came to the house today.

Not the Sick.

He said he was from the hospital, that he was here to help people. Dad swung the door open, hoping the man could get relief for Mom. As soon as Dad opened it, the man pushed inside. He had a gun and said he wanted all our money and anything valuable.

Mom started laughing, this loud cackling crazy laugh. I think she just broke. It freaked the man out, and he started waving his gun around.

It all happened so fast. So much blood, so much death, you'd think it would have taken a long time. But it didn't. It didn't take any time at all.

I'm not sure who shot first. I didn't even know Dad had his gun on him. All I know is that when the noise stopped, I was the only one breathing. If what I was doing could have been called breathing.

* * *

Gasping, Kelsey looked up from the diary, tear-filled eyes wide and a hand on her heart. She reached under her hair and clothing for a thin, fragile chain and pulled it out, looking at the charm attached to it. Her dad bought this for her days before the first report of the AgFlu. Her slight body shook with sobs as she remembered.

"It's got your name on it, honey,” he’d said, "see, look, Kelsey Lang."

Kelsey kissed the necklace and tucked it back under her protective layers of clothing. She leaned back and looked at the bright blue sky. A few white puffy clouds floated across it. The sky shouldn't be this pretty with all the bad things happening. It should be grey, dull, even raining.

She stroked Ebony and stared at the upward for a few moments telling herself she wouldn't read the rest, it was too sad. But Kelsey knew she was lying to herself, there was no way she could stop now.

Eleven

Endings

August 28

I'm in the attic.

The sound of gunshots brought the Sick back. I can hear them out there. Why didn’t we leave for the country? Maybe it would’ve been different there.

I'm so, so scared. I’m shaking, and I can’t stop.

Dad, you were wrong, I can't do this. I just can’t.

August 29

The Sick are gone, but worse was still down there. It’s been two days. Mom and Dad need to be buried.

I forced myself downstairs. Mom, Dad, and the man were sprawled on the living room floor. I could've pretended they were sleeping except for the strange angles of their limbs and the looks on their frozen faces.

I didn't want to touch them, but I couldn't leave them there like that.

It was horrible. I can't -- I just can't –

Even as I pulled them outside, my stomach heaving, I couldn't believe it. It was--is a nightmare. And I can't wake up. I can never wake up.

I wrapped a clean, white sheet around Mom and Dad but not him. I will not do anything kind for him.

I would have buried them, but there's only concrete around here. The small patch of grass we have is as hard as concrete. I know, I tried – really tried -- to dig a hole for them.

After I was done, I went into the house and saw Dad's gun on the floor. I picked it up. I put it to my temple. I thought I could end this misery right here, right now.

But then I remember all the stories of botched suicide jobs people have done. I don't know what I am doing. I could lay here and suffer for days, weeks.

Isn't that what I am doing now?

It could be worse.

It can always be worse.

September 5

The house next door caught fire. I watched the flames as they moved from the far side of the house to the side closest to us, to me. All I thought was that it was kinda pretty. Maybe I’m cracking up too.

I waited until I could feel the heat, then I calmly packed a bag and walked out the door.

Now I'm sitting on the sidewalk across from our house watching it burn as I write this.

I truly have nothing. No family, no friends, no home. I wonder how long I’ve got.

I am alone.

Alone.

I'm sitting here, head in hands, trying to decide if that's good or bad.

Where do I go?

Do I care?

I need to decide. I hear them coming.

September 18

I can't seem to let myself die. I just keep going, and I don't know why.

I walked today.

I just walked around the city.

I found I can evade the Sick.

It is the healthy I have to worry about.

October 7

Today I-

Why am I even writing in you anymore?

I'm done. Signing off.

This is the end of Kelsey Lang's Diary.

Maybe the end of me.

Twelve

Never Be Alone

Kelsey remembered her disgust and despair the day she flung this diary onto the street like a piece of garbage. Those emotions had stayed with her, haunting her. Disgust over what the world had become, and despair that her life would never be any more than this endless journey around the city.

She flipped through the blank pages at the end of the book and pulled the journal to herself hugging it as if it were one of her lost loved ones. In a way it was, it was all she had left of them. Everything else had burned in the fire. Her fingers tapped the chain around her neck. She had the diary and the necklace.

Her dad had been right. He’d been right about a lot of things. Kelsey had survived. She never got sick, not even one little sneeze. And she’d taken the skills he gave her and built on them, learning where to hide, get food and supplies, and how to stay safe.

Dad would’ve been so proud, so happy. I should be too. But she couldn’t be. There was no place for her in this city. She wasn't sick, and she wasn't a bad person. That was all that was left here.

If only her Dad had taken them out of here, but maybe everything would’ve turned out the same. Maybe he’d been right about that too, and it was too late.

Kelsey raised her dull eyes to the darkening sky.

How long could she last here? She was just a kid. At some point, she would do something wrong, and either the Sick or the others would find her. She wasn't sure which would be worse, but the constant fear was more than she could take. How many times had she started to reveal herself so this would all end? Too many times to count.

Kelsey jerked her head up. She knew all the city's sounds and was aware the instant one was out of place. She tipped her head. This was one she hadn’t heard for a while.

The hum of an engine. A car. A car was coming down the road. Her gaze narrowed as it came closer. A dark-blue SUV slowly swerved around what garbage it could and crunched over everything else. Sometimes the vehicle heaved up over the debris and slammed onto the pavement again.

Kelsey stood transfixed by the sight. It was doubtful it was the Sick, it was probably the others. She should run, but she couldn’t. She could get dad’s gun out of her pocket, but she didn’t.

This is it. Whatever happens here is the end of my story.

Kelsey felt numb as she watched the car come right up beside her, and as it continued to pass her by. Sitting in the front passenger's seat, a teenage girl looked directly at Kelsey, and their eyes locked. The girl didn’t look evil like the others.

The girl in the SUV looked puzzled at first before excitedly saying, "Dad! Stop Dad. There's a girl!"

The SUV jerked to a stop. Kelsey sat in the pile of junk, heart pounding, awaiting her fate. Either she would die, or she would be rescued. She wasn't sure it mattered to her anymore. Both ways put her out of her misery.

The teenage girl rolled her window further down. Her clean white-blond hair bounced against her shoulders as she chattered too long and too loud. ”My name is Sabrina Kinder, but my friends call me Bre. This is my Dad, Paul.  He’s a doctor. Are you alone? Do you want to come with us? We're leaving. It is just me and Dad now, and we're leaving the city."

In spite of the shock of what she was seeing, and hearing, Kelsey took a small, involuntary step forward. She stared at Bre, then Bre's dad, and back trying to decide if this were real.

Maybe I finally cracked. They look normal and clean, too normal and clean.

Tentatively, Kelsey reached out to touch the side of the vehicle. When her fingers met steel, she gasped and pushed harder. She looked at Bre with wide eyes. They were real.

How long had she been by herself without saying a word to anyone but the cat? After a while, the days and the nights had merged. It could have been one day or one thousand.

Her voice cracked from disuse as she said, "I'm Kelsey. I'm not -- not sick. I've -- I've never been sick. Yes, I'm alone, and I want to leave the city. Please, please let me leave."

With a look of sympathy, Paul pushed open the passenger door and watched Kelsey climb in. "Are there any others? We've heard there are child survivors around here, and we've been looking for them."

Kelsey shook her head no, wondering if she was a child any longer.

A sad look in his eye, Paul looked around. "I can't save them if I can't find them, but I can save you, Kelsey."

Kelsey nodded but kept her head down. She didn't want to do anything that would change his mind about taking her away from here. Then hearing a meow, Kelsey peeked up to give Paul a questioning look. When he agreed, she called Ebony over, running her hand over the cat’s back as she entered the car.

"Kelsey." Paul waited for her to look at him. "Kelsey, you're not alone anymore. You'll never be alone again."

Silent tears filled Kelsey's eyes and rolled over her cheeks. These were not sad tears for the Kelsey of the diary, or even for the girl sitting on the junk pile.

These were happy tears. Joyful tears for the Kelsey right here, right now sitting in this car, driving down this street.

The street leading out of this city.

Kelsey put a hand to her necklace. You were right, Dad. I’m the one who lives.

Sanctuary’s Aggression 5: The Trial

This box set is compiled in the order in which the books were written. The prequel books, The Beginning and The Atlantis Cure, can be read first or where they are located in the box set.

The prequels are important to the conclusion of the series.

Thank you for reading the series. :)

Copyright © 2019 Maira Dawn

All rights reserved.

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and a resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

Cover Art by Maira Dawn

To my Mother, who helped instill in me a love of story. And to my Father, who encourages my writing even while slightly baffled by the process.

Contents

1. Skye

2. Kelsey

3. Tom

4. Jesse’s Request

5. We Were There

6. Horde

7. Humanity

8. Grey Day

9. Face Off

10. The White Coat Question

11. Big Sister

12. Sue Ellen

13. Tension

14. Court

15. Testify

16. Attacks

17. Fight

18. Judgement

19. Nightmares

20. Barbarton

21. Storm

22. The Overlook

23. Potatoes

24. The Exchange

25. Remembering

26. Want To

27. Of Course

28. End Up

29. Praying

30. Family

31. Waiting

32. Heartbeats

33. Uncle

34. Children

35. Tears

36. Dreams

37. Baked

38. Evil

39. Disease

40. Argument

41. Tough

42. Memories

43. Every Minute

44. Mountainside

45. My Girl

46. Wrong

47. Tough

48. Hang On

One

Skye

Skye knelt on the ground, churning the dirt and shoveling some of the dark, soft soil out of her way. One by one, she set the seedlings she had started in the house into the holes she had made, patting the dirt down around them. Beside her sat the row cover Dylan had made, a lightweight plastic frame to protect the winter vegetables. With care, and if the weather held out, in a few weeks, they would have fresh kale, broccoli, carrots, and beets for the dinner table.

After finishing the row, Skye sat back on her heels, wincing as she did so. Though her body protested today's work, the gunshot wound had been healing well.

She took a breath, letting out a happy sigh at her progress, then lifted her face to let the sun warm it. The weather had been rainy and cool for a while now. The bright day was a nice change.

A smile lit upon her lips as she looked over the property. Since planning their future together, there had been some changes. She and Dylan had decided an expansion of the cabin was crucial. One bedroom for her and Dylan, one of equal size for Wade and a slightly smaller one for Jesse. The building work was progressing nicely with the help of a few neighbors. The frame was up, and now the men worked at it around their chores. It would be done in no time.

What would her life be like now if there'd been no AgFlu? She'd like to think she would've done more than just notice Dylan on the streets of Colton or that he would have approached her. That somehow, they would've been able to merge her work with his love of this mountain. But the odds of any of that working out in the old world would have been small.

In that world, they had been like two sides of the same coin, never designed to be face-to-face. But in this after-pandemic world, they complemented one another and stood together to face the challenges it brought. Even when those challenges were right down the mountain.

She glanced toward Colton. It’s where Calvin, Tony and Pete were being held until their trial. She shook her head. No need to worry about that now. The trial would come soon enough.

Skye scanned the tree line, searching for both Dylan and Jesse. Dylan, because he wouldn't be happy seeing her outside. And Jesse because he was due back from hanging out with Kelsey and Bre.

Jesse had turned thirteen this month and felt fully capable of making his way from one cabin to another on the mountain. Even though a watch had been set up for both Infected and any strangers who might roam through, her son's new-found freedom made her nervous. There were dangers on this mountain. She'd already held her breath for weeks after the battle in town, worried Jesse would come down with the AgFlu, but when he hadn't gotten so much as a sniffle, her concern lessened. He seemed to be one of those with natural immunity. Remembering her bout with the sickness, Skye's stomach turned. She was glad Jesse hadn’t gone through that.

In a hurry to be on his way this morning, Jesse had squirmed out of her goodbye hug. But not before she noticed what regular meals were doing for him. Though still short for his age, his once boney frame was finally gaining muscle.

Skye chuckled as she remembered his reaction when she asked when Jesse would be home from playing. He had almost choked on his breakfast.

"Mom! We ain’t children. We don't play. We hang out," he said as he laid his head in his hand. Apparently, she had made one of the greatest social blunders a parent could make.

Her heart warmed. She loved these little interplays, part of a normal life, with healthy interactions. It meant the world she was able to give it to him.

A rustling in the brush caught Skye's attention. The tall grasses parted, and Dylan stepped through. Across his broad shoulders, he carried a good-sized deer. Wade appeared, seemingly out of thin air, from behind the house and congratulated his brother. Dylan said something and nodded Skye's way. Wade turned and shrugged.

"Oh man," Skye mumbled to herself. "I'm caught." She sometimes thought that if Dylan had his way, she wouldn't be allowed outside the house.

Wade took the deer from his brother and walked toward the gambrel to hang it up. Dylan headed straight toward her.

He planted his feet and towered over her as she crouched by the garden. "I remember tellin’ you to stay in the house."

"Umm, I believe I heard, and I quote, 'I reckon you might wanna stay in the house today.' And well, I didn't want to."

Dylan scoffed, "Woman, I swear."

"Pfft. Stop trying to intimidate me. Come here and help me. I only have a couple more then I'll go in."

"You're the bossiest woman I know." Dylan crouched beside her.

"Well, we're a good match then because you are the bossiest man I know." Skye smiled sweetly at him and kissed him on the cheek.

"Ain't none of my tricks work on you. How am I supposed to get you to listen?" He ran his hand over her hair.

"Your intimidation tricks? They actually work better than you think, especially when you are worked up. When you’re angry, you are one scary-looking dude. But you don't need that with me. You just need to love me, that's all." Skye placed one of the delicate plants in his large, callused hands.

Dylan chuckled. "Just love ya, uh? You gonna heal on love?"

"I'm fine. I needed some air and don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing. And before you say I couldn't have defended myself—Wade was out here. So, see? Protected."

Dylan barely contained his laughter. "You didn’t even know he was out here. You think I didn't see your surprised face when he came walking around the corner?"

"Just set the baby plant." Skye waved her hand from him to the hole in the ground and rolled her eyes. How did he manage to see literally everything? She ignored his knowing look as he gently laid the seedling in its new place.

After layering the dirt on it, Dylan stood and put the row cover over the new plants, then he held a hand out to Skye. "Come on, darlin'."

Skye brushed her hands together, knocking off the dirt clinging to them. Grasping Dylan's fingers, she stood on shaky legs. She was happy for his assistance. Once standing, she put an arm around Dylan. He returned the embrace, being careful of her wound.

The two slowly made their way toward the cabin just as Jesse emerged from the woods. The boy ran to them, eager to discuss his day.

When they reached the front door, they waved Wade over. It was evening now. Time for the family to come together and grow tighter bonds. Struggles awaited them, and they needed to be ready.

Two

Kelsey

Earlier that day, Kelsey had settled with Jesse and Bre on the hard ground in front of the cabin she shared with Doctor Paul Kinder and his daughter. The house sat in a little clearing with three other log homes, each with cherry red or sunny yellow curtains peeking through the kitchen windows. Dylan had mentioned that before the AgFlu, a large, extended family had lived in the cabins. None of them had survived.

He didn't like to talk about it. Kelsey understood that. If she could erase her time in the city before Paul had rescued her, she would in a heartbeat. Before she could stop it, pictures of her lost family and friends shuffled across her mind. She pulled in a quick breath and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

Kelsey ran her hand over the back of her once scrawny black cat. Now the animal's fur was sleek, shiny even, and she purred in contentment. As one of the few pets among the mountaintop's inhabitants, Ebony received a lot of treats.

She looked from her own large cabin to the other three smaller ones. Aaron occupied the house across from hers, and his brother Curt lived with his family in the one to Kelsey's right. The one to her left housed an older couple, and she didn't know them very well.

Cabins in the new community on Cole's Mountain had been carefully divided so each area would have enough strong people to defend it. Kelsey believed her group was one of the most powerful, and that calmed her fears a bit. The horrors of the past few months still haunted her.

Jesse reached over and ran a hand down Ebony’s spine. The cat pushed her head against his palm, wanting more petting and loving every minute of attention.

The sharp twang of a hammer strike came from inside the doctor's house. Paul had been banging away at something all day. They had all been working for weeks to fix the cabins up. What more could possibly be left?

Another round of pounding ended in an exclamation of pain and a wild string of odd curses. The young people exploded into a fit of giggling.

"Dad should really watch those fingers of his, he's the only surgeon we know of," Bre said as soon as she could catch some air.

Footsteps thumped their way toward the front door, and Paul pushed open the screen, quickly saying, "Bre, get some more nails from Aaron."

"Oh, boy!" Bre said under her breath as she rose to do as he asked. "He's on a roll with something now."

Kelsey and Jesse smothered more laughter as she walked away.

"And you two!" Paul said. "When I'm done here, we'll have another first aid class."

The doctor had said that being the only person with medical training didn't sit well with him, so he had begun giving medical education to all interested. Not only would the training be useful to everyone, but it also helped discern who had enough skill and interest to move to more advanced areas.

Bre was a no-brainer. One of the first things she'd told Kelsey was that she dreamed of becoming a doctor from the time she could crawl. But Paul also encouraged Kelsey and Jesse to take the first-aid classes. The more people who knew medicine, the better.

Jesse and Kelsey nodded at his hurried instructions. They still had a little more time. Jesse pulled a cd player out of his backpack and turned it on. He was so proud of the thing. Dylan had picked it up for him on one of his scavenging trips. Kelsey didn't really know what Jesse's life had been like before all this, but she did know that Skye and Dylan weren't Jesse's real parents. She eyed the care he took with the little machine. He acted as though he hadn't had much in the way of possessions before the AgFlu the way he treasured the music player.

He looked at her, excitement twinkling in his eyes. "This is a good one, Kels."

Kelsey agreed as she listened to the song, tipping her head toward the breeze blowing across the little glen and letting it pull her curly, brown hair across her face.

Here is so much better than there. If only her parents and three siblings had made it. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine them sitting beside her. The baby would either be sleeping, crying, or eating as all babies did. Her twin brothers pushing and jostling in some kind of rough play. Her mother—Kelsey stopped and quickly shoved the memory of her family away when a thin knife seemed to pierce her heart. It didn't happen. Pretend your life started the day they found you on that trash heap in Fenton.

Soft footfalls and the faint clank of weapons hitting one another caught Kelsey's attention. She opened her eyes.

Dylan and Wade strolled toward her and Jesse. Big, muscular men decked out with weapons, as always. It was too reminiscent of her time alone. Her eyes grew as they got closer, and she contemplated fleeing until they nodded a greeting at her. Too late.

They squatted beside Jesse, speaking to him in low tones. Kelsey slowly let out the breath she'd been holding. She reminded herself for the hundredth time they were on her side. They had started this community, for heaven's sake.

Jesse talked easily with the two tough men. He often reminded her that they were protectors and he would know, so she needed to stop being afraid of them. Instead, she must trust him and them.

She was trying, but after coming from a place where she couldn't trust anyone, it was hard to do. And honestly, her dad would've given these guys a wide berth even before Fenton went down. Of course, that's what probably made them perfect protectors.

Wade pounded Jesse's back and laughed. Kelsey winced. Why did men do that? She hoped he never did that to her. She'd be flat on the ground with the first thump.

When Dylan ruffled Jessie's hair, the boy ducked his head and quickly fixed it, giving Kelsey a quick look out of the corner of his eye.

Dylan looked from the boy to Kelsey to Jesse again. He softened his usually gruff voice. "Hey, Kelsey."

The quiet voice. He rarely used that. She must look like a scared little rabbit. The girl tried to shake off her nerves, but her voice still cracked when she said, "Hey."

In her defense, she didn't talk much anymore, so her speech was often rusty.

"Look what they brought us." Jesse leaned toward her and fanned out some new CDs. "Lynyrd Skynyrd. Have you heard of them?"

Kelsey shook her head and started picking at the seam of her jeans.

"Me either," Jesse said. "But I'm sure they're good if Dylan and Wade like 'em." He put one of the CDs in the player. She nodded her agreement, wishing that talking didn't seem so hard for her now.

Before, words flowed effortlessly and in vast quantities. Yet now, it was as if any speech had to be pushed out of her, if it came at all. Skye said it would get better, Kelsey just needed to give it time.

"You'll like 'em, girlie," Wade said as Kelsey peeked up at him. "All the best southerners do, and I'm sure you’re one of the best."

Kelsey smiled and uttered a quick laugh as Wade's laughter bellowed through the clearing. He was teasing her. He knew she was from Ohio.

"She'll like it anyway," Jesse said. "Won't you, Kelsey?"

She nodded again and managed to say, "Yes, I will," as the first few notes of a new song started to play.

"Yeah, we'll make a mountaineer of her yet, won't we, boy?" Wade said. Jesse laughed, agreeing.

"You gonna come see Skye later?" Dylan asked, referring to her regular appointments.

She nodded.

"I'm gonna stay here 'til then," Jesse told him. "Paul wants to do a first aid class. Then, I'll walk Kelsey over."

"All right. Just remember, though, your momma's got chores for you to do."

"Yes, sir."

Dylan rose and started to ruffle Jesse's hair again but stopped short. "Okay then, see ya later. Keep an eye open."

Kelsey sat a hand on Ebony's soft fur and looked around the clearing as the men walked away. The neighbors bustled around the area building, cleaning, cooking, and gardening. This was a good place to be. It was safe.

Well, as safe as anywhere was anymore.

Three

Tom

Tom was tired of the drive down the mountain. Tired of leaving Tricia, tired of walking through that jail door and tired of seeing those three men, if that's what a person wanted to call them. There'd been a significant portion of those on Cole's Mountain who had pushed for the death penalty to be enforced on the day Wade and Dylan had dragged these men here. Tom couldn't say he hadn't considered it, but it was important to him to have this done the proper way, if at all possible.

The Cole brothers were among those who pushed for getting this thing done. Tom could tell it'd taken everything Dylan had to bring them back alive, especially since he'd been bringing Skye back half-dead.

There was a long list of charges against the three men. Not only what they had done to Jesse and Skye, not the least of which was the attempted murder against her and the actual murder of Frankie, Jesse's father. In addition, the men had boasted about committing a host of other crimes as they had chased down Skye and Jesse. Tom reckoned it was a good enough confession for him.

He hoped any judge who made it here would feel the same way.

The doc had only half patched up Tony, mainly because he hadn't expected him to live more than a few miles travel down the road, let alone the whole way back. But he had made it. Now Tony rotted in a cell along with the other two, still the orneriest one in there. As mean and sneaky as the sheriff knew him to be, he never turned his back on that one.

Tom gathered up the meals from the back seat of his cruiser and went through the front door of the Colton jail. His deputy sat in a chair, feet up on the desk, and a book in his hand.

Tom tried to rotate the officers, so this lonely post wouldn't be so bad. Even once the culprits were taken care of, someone would still need to be there to watch for anyone with criminal intent moving through the area and for gangs of Infected looking for trouble.

Tom handed the deputy a plate of food he’d kept hot in a thermal bag and a couple of snacks. “How’s everything been?”

“Quiet out on the streets. I haven’t even heard a piece of trash blow by.” The deputy hooked his thumb toward the entry to the cells. “They’re another story. Every so often they get all riled up. I just ignore them and it calms down.”

Tom tipped his head to the officer. “I appreciate you volunteering.”

“It’s all part of the job.”

There was no question in Tom’s mind that this was probably the stupidest situation he had been in. Making the hour trip down the mountain almost every day seemed idiotic. But as of right now, Colton had the jail, the only controlled place to keep these animals.

Tom put a hand to the smooth door handle and heaved a sigh. People kept asking if he wanted them dead, as if he questioned that these three deserved death sentences. There was no doubt that he wanted them in a grave—many times over for what they did to his cousin. But Tom was a lawman and, as such, had sworn to uphold the law. More than that, he believed in it. And sheriff or not, he was not going to just up and kill people without the proper procedure. Not until he knew, without a doubt, there was no proper procedure to be had.

So, he'd been on the radio to all the towns in the area and finally located a judge. What's more, one willing to travel to Colton. It seemed though the regular courts had locked their doors as more and more people got sick, this judge had started an old-fashioned circuit.

The magistrate added Colton to his rounds. He was only a few stops away. If everyone was patient, these men would get the judgment they deserved.

Tom pulled the door open and entered the cell area, scanning it with a sharp eye. On seeing him, Tony rose and limped to the bars closest to Tom. "Coward! Keeping us in here! There ain’t no law. Be a man, fight me!”

Ignoring the taunts, Tom crouched and quickly scooted Tony’s packaged meal through the bars attached to the grey concrete floor and walked on. Tony stretched through the bars up to his shoulder as he tried to reach the sheriff, but Tom made a wide berth.

Calvin whined his usual excuses, "I'm not a bad man. I just got caught up with bad people. I can mend my ways. I was a sales guy before the world went to crap. I'm not normally like this!"

The slimy man wasn't kidding anyone. He'd be up to the same evil tricks if he ever got out of here.

Pete was quiet, as usual, with the typical confused expression covering his face. What was he confused about? Being in jail? Or that murder was a punishable offense?

The sheriff gritted his teeth as he picked up the customary mess they'd made. It was their ritual to throw dishes and leftover food out of their cells and onto the block wall across from it. Tom had solved part of the problem by cutting their rations and serving everything in plastic containers. Still, they did what they could.

Tom grumbled to himself that this would all be over soon. As he left the room, he glanced over his shoulder. He hated these men, and any like them. He always had, but the anger burned hotter now. The world was in turmoil. People needed all the help they could get. And there were goons like this out there looking to become tyrants.

Tom said goodbye to his deputy, promising to send his replacement down in the morning. As he got into his cruiser, he glanced into the back seat. A few days ago, he’d caught Jesse trying to sneak a ride to town. The boy had refused to tell him why, so he’d told Jesse he needed to let Skye know what he was up to. Jesse hadn’t been too happy with him about that. Tom slid the cruiser into drive, reminding himself he needed to talk to Skye about the incident.

Four

Jesse’s Request

Jesse punched the back cushion of the couch he sat on. It'd been five days since Tom had said he must tell Skye why he tried to sneak into town. He had two days left.

Another punch. He didn’t want to tell her, she might say he couldn’t go, and he didn’t want to hear that. Or she might get really mad. He didn’t know what Skye did when she was really mad—at him, anyway.

Jesse rubbed his hand across his stomach, it ached. The same way it used to hurt when he knew his dad would be angry. But that was stupid. Skye wasn’t going to wale on him, that much he knew for sure.

The springs in the couch groaned as he twisted and fell against the cushions. Skye turned from the stove to him. “Jesse, you want to give that couch a break? It’s not like we can easily buy another one if you beat this one to death.”

His face turned from her, Jesse rolled his eyes and blew out a long sigh. “You just go to a neighbor's empty house and take one. No big deal.”

“Well, how about we take just care of the one we have?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jesse saw Dylan and Skye exchange a look. Here we go. Jesse, is there anything the matter? he parroted her words in his mind before she actually said them.

“Jesse—”

“I’m fine, geez! I get a little rough with the couch, and you wanna have a session!”

“Okay, you’re right. That’s unfair of me, not everything requires a heartfelt conversation, but if there’s anything you need to discuss, you know you can,” Skye said.

Jesse gritted his teeth, then spoke in careful measured tones, “Yes, I know.”

There was another glance between the two of them before they went back to making dinner. From his chair in the corner of the living room, Wade cleared his throat and drew Jesse’s attention to him. The man didn’t say a word but raised an eyebrow at Jesse.

“Oh, for—" Jesse said before jumping up off the couch and going out the door, making sure that it slammed with just the right amount of force.

As he went, he heard Skye say, “Jesse! What? Wade, what did you do?”

With amusement in his voice, Wade answered her, “All I did was look at the kid.”

Jesse hid out at the Doc’s house overnight, sending word of his whereabouts through the men who kept the late watch of the community. Over breakfast, he talked the problem over with Kelsey, who encouraged him to get the talk with Skye over with. The look she'd given him said he was getting way too worked up about it, and when she told him, he just needed to calm down, he finally got the message and headed home.

Wade was already gone when he got there, but Dylan and Skye were cleaning up after breakfast. Both offered hellos as Jesse dragged his feet across the floor toward them.

He’d wanted to lead up to what he had to say nice and slow, gentle in the way he said it. He'd thought of tons of different ways to say it, but what came out was, “I want to see those men that—those men in jail. And I’m gonna do it whether you like it or not.”

Jesse winced. The words had come out rough, belligerent even. But he was still glad it was said.

But what the boy had been hoping for was psychologist Skye, calm and controlled. That is not what he got.

* * *

The words hit Skye like a punch to the stomach. It took a moment for her to catch her breath. Her mind spun. She and Jesse had worked so hard on all the damage from his father. Couldn’t he see the danger in seeing these men? Even if all Calvin, Tony, Pete could do was hurl angry words, those words could scar him for life, as some of his father’s had. Jesse already had so many painful memories, why did he want to add one more?

All her training forgotten, the therapist left, and the mother stayed.

“No. Absolutely not.”

Dylan groaned. “Skye, hear the boy out.”

“No. This could do so much—”

“Skye!” Dylan’s hard voice cut through her swirling thoughts.

She looked up at him, her own sure gaze battling with his and opened her mouth to argue. Before she could utter a word, he took her arm and dragged her from the cabin.

Outside in the chilly air, she angrily pushed Dylan away and wrapped her arms around herself. “Dylan! What are you doing?”

He paced in front of her. “You needed stopped before saying something you regret.”

“I don’t think I will. I said no, and I meant it.”

Dylan stopped and took hold of her arms, staring her in the face. “You need to listen to that boy.”

“If you think for one short minute, I’m going to let him see those vile men, you’re wrong.”

“They can’t hurt him sittin’ in that cell.”

“You’re wrong, Dylan. The vile words that slither from that Calvin’s lips—” Skye put a hand to her mouth. “The things he’s already heard them say. They could further damage Jesse. I don’t want him near them.”

Dylan crossed his arms and stared at her.

“You weren’t there, Dylan. Not for that. You can’t understand.” Skye took a long breath and laid her hand on his forearm. “I don’t understand why you think this is a good idea.”

His voice softened, but his stance did not. “You know why.”

Skye did know that there were victims who felt facing their attacker empowered them. She got that. But not her Jesse. Still, she listened as Dylan explained.

“Those men killed his father, darlin’. Almost killed you. Tony beat the snot out of the kid. Jesse felt powerless, and he needs to get back his power. Seeing them behind bars will help do that.”

Skye was silent for a minute but nothing Dylan had said changed her mind. “He’ll see them at the trial.”

“Skye. We don’t know when that will be. You know it’s better to resolve things quickly. Your words, darlin’.”

She narrowed her eyes at Dylan. Why did he always use her own wisdom against her?

He put his hand on hers. “The boy is gonna feel what he’s gonna feel. You and I both know that. The thing is, what are you going to do about it?”

“Not let this happen.”

“You’re thinking like a mom and not a therapist.”

“I am a mom!”

With a gentle finger, Dylan pushed a bit of her hair back off her face. “Yeah, darlin', but right now, he needs his therapist. Am I right?”

Skye heaved a sigh. “Yes, you’re right.”

“What would you have told a client, you know, before?”

“Dylan, he’s a child. These kinds of decisions are not his to make.”

“He left childhood behind long ago, you know that. If this boy says he needs to see them, then he does.”

Skye gazed at the forest tree line. “And you understand this because you would feel the same way?”

“Yeah.”

“He had to know I would hate the idea.”

“Course he did, that's why he was scared to ask you. Did you see his face?”

“No, I was too busy yelling.”

Dylan chuckled. “See, that there’s the trouble with yelling.”

She scoffed at him, “Look who’s talking.”

He gave her a little tug, and she moved into his arms and laid her head on his chest. She breathed in his soothing forest scent as she tried calm her queasy stomach. “I won’t let him go in there without me, and I don’t think I can do this.”

“I’ll be there,” Dylan said as he pulled her tighter. “And one thing I’ve learned about you is you can do just about anything once you get your mind wrapped around it.”

“That may be, but I will repeat that I don’t agree with this. It is a bad idea, and it’s me who will have to pick up the pieces.”

“Darlin’, stop.”

Skye pulled away. “No, Dylan. I don’t agree. A bit of talking and a little snuggle isn’t going to change my mind about what is good for our boy. I’m sorry, but that’s how I feel.”

Dylan let his arms fall to his side, looking lost. She felt a twinge of sadness and reached for his hand, pulling him back to the house.

* * *

Jesse watched Dylan and Skye from inside the cabin. He’d known she’d have a problem with it, but it was even worse than he’d feared. She was so protective of him. He appreciated it, had drunk it in at first. Because before her, the last time he remembered being protected was, well, never. But sometimes it was a little much. Skye tended to forget that he was a pretty independent kid.

But this time, he couldn’t budge. These men took something from him. Tony had tossed him like a ragdoll on that steep slope. Skye. Jesse shuddered. Her pale face. Her fall. Thinking she was dead.

Then his dad. Saving them, but only at the cost of his own life. The only good thing his father had ever done. And Calvin had twisted his dad in knots, leading him around like a sad puppy before he'd stood up to them.

Jesse didn't want to be a sad puppy.

Calvin, Tony, and Pete were vile snakes. He knew that. The things they admitted they’d done to women and children still curled his stomach.

Every act they'd admitted to had seemed like one heavy stone after another, crushing him. And it only gotten worse with each passing day. Maybe if he saw them in jail, powerless to hurt him or anyone he loved, maybe he could finally stand tall again, finally lay his head down and rest.

The last thing he wanted was to hurt Skye. He just needed this to end, and he didn’t think it would until he spat in their faces.

Five

We Were There

Dylan and Wade slipped silently through the forest, bows in hand, guns strapped to their backs. The slanted morning sun made laser-like streaks of light through the trees, causing the men to squint as they walked through one. On alert, Dylan kept an eye and ear open for any Sick or Infected. Better to be on the lookout then to be sorry later. They often roamed back into cleared-out areas. Spying their trap, Wade moved to release their prey, most likely their dinner for tonight.

On the mountain, if a man could hunt, he did. It provided for his family and gave something to trade with those who didn't. And to willingly give, if need be, to the widows and orphans who had little means to provide for themselves. There wasn't a lot of them, and they more than did their share of work, helping out around the community, cooking, sewing, and more. And some of the younger ones were being trained in outdoor skills. The corner of Dylan's lip curled. One day, some of those kids might be better than him.

Once Wade stuffed the snared rabbit into his pack, the men headed back home. Knowing the area safe and the need for silence was gone, they crunched through the trees disregarding the twigs snapping under their feet.

"Been kinda tense around the cabin," Wade said. "Nice to be out here for a while."

"Yeah." Dylan took in a deep breath, inhaling the earthy smell around him, a scent that had become his own. "They'll hammer out the details. I’ve got confidence in them.”

"Still," Wade said.

Still, Dylan had to agree. It was nice to be outdoors, to feel the crisp air against his skin, and to roam the forest. He’d felt the tension melt the minute he stepped through the tree line and pooled again as he turned back toward home. And it had to do with everything but Skye and Jesse.

Skye was the sun in his life now, and the boy made him happy. It was as if he’d always wanted them, always known they were coming and just hadn't realized it. To be near Skye gave him the same feeling he had running free in the woods, and that was the best compliment he could give to a person.

“Skye and the boy will be fine. But when they come to an understanding on the details, I reckon I’d like you to come along too, Wade.”

“Ya know I will, bro.”

Dylan nodded. A little more muscle never hurt.

Wade threw him a questioning look. “If it’s not that, what’s got you troubled, brother?”

Dylan shrugged, hoping that would satisfy him, but his brother just raised his eyebrow higher.

Dylan continued through the forest as he explained. “Before it was just us, takin’ care of ourselves. You, me, and this forest.” He gestured toward the trees. “Like today.”

“Somehow, we’ve become something to people,” Dylan said as he glanced at Wade. “Something way more than anyone believed us capable of before the world fell. I thought—I always thought that was something I wanted. Now, I’m not sure what I think. It’s a lot.”

Dylan ran a hand over the back of his neck. “It’s one thing gettin’ a woman and a boy. It’s another to get a whole village.”

The men stopped. Wade held his tongue until Dylan had his say. For a moment, they listened to the wind rustle through the trees. Somewhere to their right, small claws scrabbled up tree bark. Probably a squirrel or chipmunk on its way home with dinner, just like them.

Dylan kicked at some green moss clinging to the tip of a rock poking out of the ground. “Everywhere I turn, someone needs something. Advice, lessons, help of some kind or another. I give it willingly. But I think, do those townspeople remember that I’m the guy they used to side-eye and make snide remarks about?”

“D, what did you think would happen when you gave the invite for them to come on up here?”

“I reckon I thought they’d look to Tom.”

“Tom don’t know squat about how to live on this mountain. He’s lived in town his whole life.”

“I know. I just—I just never asked to be one of their leaders. Sometimes, I wonder how long their gonna stay all fired up about us until they reckon they don’t need me—us, anymore.”

Wade vigorously shook his head. “Ain’t gonna happen. They renamed the mountain, bro. After us. Tom said because when everything else was in ruins, and no one knew what to do, we were there, helpin’ out on the mountain and in town. The townsfolk started calling it that, and it stuck.”

Wade poked Dylan’s arm. “Tom said it’s fitting cause the town was named after our forefathers. They gathered people together and made a town. Now, we’re doin’ the same thing.”

“I know,” Dylan said as he rubbed his arm. “And I gotta say it means a lot that we’ve somehow restored the family name to the good standing it once had.”

Wade waved Dylan on. “Don’t worry. We got this.”

Dylan nodded and pushed through a bit of brush, then stopped. Something seemed out of place.

“Hsst,” Dylan said to get his brother’s attention. Wade glanced back and stopped.

With the men quiet, the wildlife came alive. One, then two, birds twittered in the trees around them, a chipmunk scurried, a squirrel chattered. None of that was what Dylan waited to hear.

He scanned the forest. There it was. The long, low moo of cattle. The men exchanged a glance and changed direction, heading toward the sound.

The forest gave way to a small opening where eleven cows laid or stood. Those lying chewed in contented silence. The five who stood were clearly distressed. From the herd's rough condition, it seemed like they may have been roaming for a while.

The men’s eyes lit up as they glanced at each other. It was like finding treasure. They could breed these beef cattle with the bull one of the neighbors owned. It would be the beginning of a regular meat source for the community.

As Wade got closer to the small herd, he made a sound of disgust. "Looky here," he said, pointing to the cow closest to them.

The flesh on the cow’s back was torn. Its thick skin laid open, hanging from its body, flies covering the oozing wound. Wade waved his hand over the insects, disturbing them.

Dylan’s head jerked back in surprise. “Is that—? It can’t be.”

"Yep, it sure is, brother."

A human bite mark. One of the Sick had ripped this skin apart.

"It wasn't for food," Dylan said. "See, nothing is gone, it's just ripped up. 'Sides, once the illness gets advanced enough that they're attacking people, they can't seem to keep anything down."

"Skye said the rabies part of the virus rewires the brain so victims bite to spread the disease. Pry what happened here," Wade said.

"That's some tough hide to get through. It’s one strong-minded disease."

"And one good set of chompers."

Dylan pointed out the other group of cows. “Let's look at the others.” He looked over the calmer animals. “These look good. Better put those other ones down, but these we might be able to use. We can talk to Doc about it.”

Wade nodded his agreement. “Let's get back home and figure this out then."

The men walked through the forest, heading for the truck they'd left on the side of the road. After laying their bows in the bed of the vehicle, a faint sound caught their attention and they stilled. Raspy, heavy breathing snaked through the forest. It was unmistakable.

A large pack of Sick was in there somewhere.

Six

Horde

Dylan and Wade exchanged glances. With careful steps, they grabbed their bows and headed toward the guttural clamor. Once they were close enough to see the horde, they knelt and took a moment to work out a plan.

Wade pointed out the ten Sick milling around directly in front of them. Dylan nodded toward another eight restlessly pacing the forest off to the right.

Six of the eighteen had compromised limbs. Some so bad they did little more than clumsily drag a leg along behind them, causing a pull-hop kind of walk.

Dylan glanced at two Sick who seemed to have little difficulty walking. Their potential for speed was troubling.

Other than that, it was almost impossible to discern much about the group of Sick. So much dirt layered their clothing and body it was difficult to tell the original color of their clothes, hair or skin. The whites of their wild eyes seemed stark against their filthy faces and snarled messy hair. Red foamy drool hung in long wobbly ribbons from the lips of the sickest of them.

Dylan sadly shook his head. It was the fortunate ones who died quickly. Those who lingered only suffered, roaming and frightened. And this group looked as though it been out here a long time.

He stared at their eyes. Was there any thought or emotion left in these people? But if there was anything at all, it was confusion and terror. For the most part, though, their eyes seemed vacant. And it was better that way.

When Wade started to move to the left, Dylan put a hand on his arm. He gestured toward a Sick man and woman caught in the brush. Without success, they tugged and pulled at the thin branches, weeds, and thorns binding their legs, seemingly unable to understand why they were trapped.

Although just as dirty as the others, their lips were clear of the bloody froth. Dylan’s finger curled around the crossbow trigger as he ached to help them to stop the inevitable progress of the disease. Soon they too would have the red spit and slowly suffocate from it. But it wasn’t his place to do that. Not yet.

The time would surely come when anyone who came across someone Sick would have the authority to take care of them. But Tom was the man in charge of these matters, and as Sheriff, he wanted them taken to the closest containment area. Dylan didn’t really agree that course of action was the best for these people.

Wade eyed Dylan and whispered, “What are we doin’ here, D?”

Dylan sighed and lowered his bow. “What Tom wants.”

“It’s a crock, is what that is.”

“Tom likes to believe there’s still some kind of government left. It’s what holds the man together. I ain’t taking that away from him.”

Dylan pointed through the trees. “There’s a cabin back in there. If it’s empty, it’s as good a place as any to corral them until we get help moving them to the detention center.”

Wade circled around to the cabin, made sure it was empty and came back to Dylan. Then the two brothers walked toward the horde of Sick.

Some half-heartedly limped toward them, but others moved closer to the entangled man and woman as if unwilling to leave them.

“It’s okay,” Wade said. “That'll work too.”

The two men stayed just in front of their shuffling, stumbling followers, leading them to the cabin. After moving them through the front door of the house, the brothers walked out the back, leaving the Sick inside.

Dylan and Wade returned to six left outside, four roamed and the man and woman still stuck in the brush.

The roamers were the ones who worried Dylan. They were more limber and would be faster than the ones already secured.

He tensed and faked a move toward them.

The four Sick’s breathing quickened, causing them to snarl. They hesitated for a moment then hurled themselves at Dylan and Wade.

Dylan scurried backward, away from the horde. Wade turned and ran toward the cabin, luring them to it. Three followed Wade. One went for Dylan.

Still scrambling backward, Dylan lost his footing, going down hard and huffing a loud breath. In the next second, the Sick man was on him, teeth snapping.

Dylan shoved him away, pulling in some much-needed air. The smell of the crazed man almost caused him to retch. His aroma came from not only his lack of hygiene but the smell of rotting flesh.

The Sick man was on him again. That close, he was overwhelming large, massive, and still terribly strong. Dylan had to work to keep him from ripping at his flesh.

There was no doubt the ill man would do it. Between his scummy, dripping teeth were bits of skin and muscle. It had probably been this group who had been at the cattle.

Holding his breath as he fought, Dylan punched his attacker and quickly reached toward his belt for his knife. Before he could get to it, he was forced to bring his hand up to stave off the iron-like hands beating him.

Dylan rolled from one side to the other, avoiding as many blows as possible. On his second turn, he again made a move for the knife. He strained to hold the man back with a hand on his shoulder.

With Dylan’s focus on retrieving a weapon, the Sick man slipped from his hand. The next second, teeth chomped at his face.

Forgetting the knife, he shoved the guy and held him back. Red spittle dripped toward him, and Dylan quickly turned his head. Wet gooeyness rolled down the side of his neck.

He shivered, swallowing the ache in the back of his throat to avoid vomiting.

The teeth were at him again. Dylan grunted and gave an exasperated sigh. He needed to get this guy down. He’d had a lot more fight in him than he’d thought.

Dylan pushed on the Sick's slimy neck, doing his best to hang onto its spit-covered surface. His fear was that the Sick’s head would slip out of his hand and slam on top of him. He did the only thing he could do—he punched his attacker. Once, twice, three times. It didn't faze him.

Glad he had never faced this man before he’d became ill, Dylan positioned himself at a better angle.

The diseased man twisted his fingers through Dylan's hair and brought his face closer. Dylan's stomach coiled tighter as he realized he was becoming more and more immobile.

He bucked and jerked, trying to get away, but the big man held him fast. The gnashing jaws got closer and closer.

Dylan’s arms shook as he redoubled his efforts to push the man away. His mind spun, and he tried to pull inspiration from his jumbled thoughts.

He may not be bigger than this guy, but he sure as blazes better be smarter.

The Sick raised his arm, grasping at his neck. It gave Dylan an opening. As the man’s fingers clasped and tightened on his throat, he pulled his arm back. Clenching his fist, he slammed it into the Sick’s armpit.

The man let out a small, ragged cry and expelled a great repulsive breath. Dylan gagged.

Before he could roll away, the man was at him again. He threw up his left arm to protect his face and sent a hard punch with his right to the Sick's face. His attacker went down, stunned.

Dylan pulled his knife as he jumped away, but the man lay motionless. Dylan paced first one way then the other and let out a great huff of air.

Then he raised his head to look for his brother.

Seven

Humanity

A faint yell from Wade came from inside the house. Dylan raced for the cabin. His stomach clenched as he readied himself for another fight.

He burst through the half-closed wooden door. Two Sick had Wade pinned to the floor. More shuffled toward him.

Dylan pushed two lurching men through an open bedroom doorway to his left and banged the door shut. He threw himself at the third, surprised at its still substantial weight.

The ill man fell backward, his head denting the thin plyboard and bouncing off a two by four. He let out a low gurgling cry, then slid to the floor and stayed there.

Wade was still surrounded as he swung his rifle from side to side, fending off the horde. Dylan rushed to his brother’s aid, pulling at a scrawny woman clenching at Wade’s shirt. It ripped when he dragged her away. Dylan wrestled her to the backside of the couch and pinned her there.

Dylan turned to his brother and stopped. Hot breath on his neck sent a shiver up his spine.

It was the same foul-smelling Sick he’d left behind in the woods. This guy had some kind of vendetta.

Dylan tensed and elbowed him in the face. It slowed the guy down while he picked up a straight chair and broke it over his head. The ill man slumped to the rug and stayed still.

Turning, Dylan saw Wade knock out his last two attackers. He helped his brother off the floor then hurried out of the house before any others came for them.

Wade crashed the door shut behind them. “That didn't go as smoothly as I hoped it would. We need to be more careful, D. Maybe we need to just start, you know..."

Dylan nodded as he worked to tame his breathing. “I hear you, brother, I do. But I can't kill them outright. But if it had been any crazier, well, that's a different story."

Wade shot a look over at the two remaining Sick stuck in the brush. "I feel like leavin' those other two."

"We can't. You know we can't. What if they get loose? They could hurt someone, and we could end up fighting them another day.”

“Okay, but if they cause a ruckus, I'm doin' what I need to do. I’m tired of this.”

Dylan glanced at the Sick. Their clothes were just as torn and dirty as the rest of their group. The woman’s long hair was snarled with dead leaves.

He walked closer to study them and saw it. The reason he couldn’t kill the Sick with no regard.

Even in this advanced stage of the disease, some bit of humanity clung to them. A bit of intelligence that lingered. Dylan held up a hand as they tipped their heads, confusion covering their faces.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

When he pulled his knife, the woman reached for the man, fear in her eyes.

There was a punch to Dylan’s gut, and his jaw tightened. He hated this disease that made animals of people. Once, he could’ve done as Wade suggested and gotten rid of as many as possible. But now, as he looked at this couple, all he could think is that this could be him and Skye. Who said it wouldn’t be one day?

They thought they had beat the illness, but what if they hadn't.

He pitied the couple and wanted to somehow get through to them. Dylan gentled his voice and said, "I'm gonna use this knife to cut you loose. Then we're gonna take you to that cabin until we can get someone to take care of you. Okay?"

There was no nod of acknowledgment, just a slight squinting of their eyes as they tried to understand.

Dylan gave Wade a quick nod so he would watch for any other possible attack while he knelt to loosen them.

With a slow and careful hand, Dylan cut the woman loose. She didn’t move a muscle as he worked. The man also cooperated. When finished, the brothers stood back to see what the couple would do. Though a bit unsteady, they stood calmly as if awaiting instructions.

Wade waved in the direction he wanted them to go. "The cabin's right this way.” He began walking toward it, and the couple stumbled behind him. Dylan brought up the rear.

The man put his hand to the woman's back as if ready to help her. Was the gesture so ingrained it was automatic? Or did the man still know what he was doing?

Wade reopened the front door of the house and roughly pushed at two Sick struggling for freedom.

The couple stepped into the house and waited for the door to shut, their wide, disoriented gaze on the men.

"I swear we'll get you help," Dylan said, his voice gruff with emotion as Wade pulled the door shut.

This is why he couldn't just mow them all down. Every time he started thinking of them as things, he was reminded they were humans—ill people. Unfortunates, who had been in the wrong place and contracted this disease. A virus making them behave in a way they would never have acted when they were healthy.

They were people who had watched their whole world crumble before their eyes. Dylan didn't mean the cities, towns, and governments. He didn't care about that and didn't see why anyone else would in this situation.

What he meant were the things that mattered, things a person held dear. The destruction and loss of a home. One constructed and carefully tended for years, like the one he and his brother had built.

The items a person proudly created such as the knife he carried. Running his hand over the handle, he recalled the hours he’d happily given to hand-carve it into the perfect grip.

Most of all, the people who surrounded you. His brother, Skye, and the boy. The affection he was developing for the rest of their new little community.

What if he’d watched all that crumble? Stood vigil as one of his loved ones turned into a monster?

Watching his dad had been bad enough. His stomach twisted as he imagined how much sadder it would be if he actually cared about the person.

For better or for worse, Dylan's humanity clung to him much like it stuck to these two Sick. And he was perfectly okay with it doing so.

Eight

Grey Day

Skye waved to the two women as they walked toward what the Coles liked to call their driveway. It was really little more than a grassy path.

She turned to Jesse and said, "What do you think about that?" She picked up a wet shirt and smoothed it over the clothesline.

Jesse made a face. “It's about time, is what I say.” He forced a clothespin over a bunched-up shirt on the line.

Skye frowned and started to say something to him but stopped herself. In the big scheme of things, it wasn't important. The clothes would dry either way, and it was his shirt. When he decided he didn't like wrinkled clothing, he would stop doing it.

She sighed over Jesse’s frustration. They were all on edge and would be until this trial was over and done with. "Yes, well, it took a while for the judge to get here, but it'll be over soon enough."

"He ain't here yet," Jesse said, his disbelief that the magistrate was actually coming written all over his face. “He's slower than snail mail used to be.”

"It's a slow process, but really Jesse, this is faster than trials used to take place."

"Man, I can't see how it could be."

Skye chuckled. The boy became more like Dylan every day, and while some days she wondered if she could handle two of them, most of the time, she was happy for it.

Jesse darted a look at Skye. “If he is on his way, then we need to get over to that jail.”

“I know, Jesse. I’m still getting used to the idea.” Just the mention of it made her tense. “I’m trying.”

“Stop worryin’. I’ll be fine.”

“I hope so, but I’m not just worried about you. I’ve barely gotten a handle on my anxiety. I need to prepare myself.”

Jesse’s face fell. “Oh. I hadn’t thought about that.” He glanced at her. “You don’t have to go if it’s too much.”

“I’m your mother now. I’m going.” Skye yanked a pair of pants out of the laundry basket and jammed the clothespins on them. “We’ll go in the morning if that’s good with Dylan and Wade.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Skye ran a hand over Jesse’s thick hair. “If you need this, I’m sure.” She nodded toward her disappearing friends. “If they’re right, the trial date will be set soon, so we better get to it.”

Jesse nodded, a serious expression covering his face until he heard a cow mooing. Then he giggled.

Yesterday, the Cole brothers, along with a few other men, spent most of the day hauling the Sick to the Containment Center and bringing the healthy cattle to the community.

Now six beef cows were penned up down the mountain in quarantine. Their occasional low bellows reminding everyone that if everything went well, beef might soon be on the menu.

Dylan turned his head toward the noise and smiled. Skye knew he was eager for a big steak. He walked over to the two of them and grabbed Jesse by the shoulders, playfully shaking him a couple of times.

"You ready for some forging?"

Jesse's face lit up. "Yep!"

Skye scoffed. He was always ready to explore, and if it got him out of laundry duty, then that would be all the better. But his hopes were dashed when Dylan picked up a wet t-shirt and started hanging clothes alongside them.

Dylan gave Skye a long look from the side of his eye before asking, "Are you comin' today too?"

"Of course, I always go with you. Well, almost always.”

"Okay. Just checking,” Dylan said.

Skye took in how uncomfortable he seemed. He was tense as he fumbled with the clothespins. Their argument had really thrown him.

"It's okay, Dylan, people disagree, and they are totally fine afterward."

Dylan grunted as if unconvinced. When she continued to look at him, he shrugged and went back to the clothes.

His behavior confused her. They’d had arguments before. Since he wouldn’t explain, she could only suppose that now they were together, he didn’t know how to act since the problem was still unresolved.

Discord was always a problem for Dylan. In a lot of cases, he could just walk away. But he couldn’t do that with her anymore.

Skye smiled at him again, then reached up and put a hand to his cheek. "It's okay. Jesse and I decided to go to the jail in the morning if that is good with you and Wade.”

His tight shoulders lowered as some of the tension left them. “Yeah. That’ll be good. You ready for that?”

Skye glanced at Jesse. “I will be.”

The next morning was as grey as Skye felt. As they made their way down the mountain in the big black truck, her eyes were glued to the passing forest as she tried to forget what they were about to do. It was bad enough she had to face these men in a courtroom, if not for Jesse, she would never have willingly seen them any more than she needed to.

When Dylan reached for her hand, she startled but wrapped hers into his large one. Nothing bad could happen to her. Those evil men were behind bars, and her protectors would be there. She sent her boyfriend a tiny, forced smile.

When they pulled into the station’s parking lot, Skye felt her stomach jolt. She’d been trembling for the last ten minutes at least and had tightened her grip on Dylan to try to hide it.

Everything in her told her to run the other way. But she was a mother now. She had to do what was best for her child, and this is what he thought he needed.

Dylan shoved the truck into park and sat back, looking at her. Jesse might not fully understand how hard this was for her, but he wasn’t fooling him.

Skye pulled in a slow breath and let it out, but it didn’t slow her thumping heart. She couldn’t sit here. Better to get it over with. Grabbing the door handle, she jerked it open and hopped out of the vehicle. She was half-way to the door before the others caught up.

“Slow down, Mom.”

“No. You keep up. Let’s get this over with.”

Jesse didn’t reply. He just followed her through the main areas of the station and toward the jail.

Tom was there. It shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did. It gave her a little more comfort that her cousin would be there for them.

He gave her one look and buzzed open the locked door leading to the cells.

She strode into the room and stopped. The dreary place was even more depressing than the day.

She stepped back, leaning against the grey cement walls as she stared at the three men. Each one had their own barred room. Bleach was the overpowering smell but sweat also drifted to her. Her gaze lingered on a sweaty Tony. She didn’t want to know what he’d been up to.

Dylan moved to her, but she patted him and stepped toward Jesse. She was glad to have the backup, but this was something they needed to do on their own.

Calvin, Tony, and Pete stared at them, surprised. They hadn’t known of this visit ahead of time. It would have given Calvin time to think, and his mouth worked well enough on the fly.

Skye slipped her hand into wide-eyed Jesse’s, standing as close to him as possible. They could say whatever they wanted to her, but if they said one hurtful word to her son, she would pull him out of the room as quickly as she could.

The automatic door slammed shut and clicked. Skye and Jesse jumped.

Nine

Face Off

Jesse’s tennis shoes squeaked against the smooth floor when he startled.

This was harder than he’d thought.

Mom had tried to warn him, but he hadn’t listened. Instead, he’d bullied his way into this meeting. Now it was time to say what he’d practiced.

He cleared his throat. And chickened out when his gaze went to the ever-reddening face of Tony.

Before Jesse could try again, Tom stepped forward. “This is how this is going to go,” he told the inmates. “These people have something to say, and you are going to listen. If you can manage to have a civil conversation, you are welcome to speak. If anything untoward comes from your mouth, you have water only for three days.”

“That isn’t legal,” Calvin muttered.

“Neither was anything you did.”

Tom turned to Jesse and Skye, indicating it was their turn. Skye shook her head. “I’ll have enough to say at the trial. We are here for our son.”

Jesse trembled and tightened his muscles to stop. He took one step forward. Skye moved her hand to his shoulder, and he was glad of the comfort.

He pointed to Calvin. “You killed my dad.”

“Your dad was no-good. I did you a favor, kid.”

“It doesn’t matter what he was. You didn’t have the right to take him away from me. And in the end, he died for me and Skye.”

Calvin kept his gaze on Jesse. “Yeah, that surprised me too.”

“I don’t forgive you.”

“Whatever, kid. You think that makes any difference to me?”

“I don’t care. I just wanted you to know.”

Calvin moved back from the bars as Jesse turned to Tony, his small hands tightening into fists.

“You hurt me,” he said to the big man. “Hurt me bad. But me and Skye, we beat you—all of you. We’re free, and you’re locked up waitin’ to die. Nothing you did changed my life for the worse. I’ll have a great life, and you’ll have nothing.”

Tony grit his teeth but said nothing. That didn’t surprise Jesse, the man hadn’t said more than a few words the whole time he’d tried to kill him on the side of that mountain.

Jesse rolled his shoulders. He felt lighter, freer now that he’d said what he needed to. He shot a grateful look to Skye. Her green eyes warmed as she smiled back.

Happy this was over, Skye turned toward the door. Her gaze betrayed her when she shot one look back toward Calvin.

He smiled and sauntered back toward the front of the cell. “Looking good there, Skye.”

She shivered as he slowly looked her up and down, all his thoughts written plainly on his face.

Behind her, Dylan growled and put a hand to her waist, encouraging her to walk faster.

She wanted to, internally screaming for her feet to move, but she was frozen. She needed to go out that door now. Anything else that happened here wouldn’t be any good.

The door buzzed and clicked open. Tom waved them out. Dylan pushed Jesse toward Wade, who herded him toward the door.

Calvin’s face seemed to move in slow motion, though his words did not. His mouth opened. “Yeah, real good. Too bad we didn’t have much time together. Oh, the things I wanted to do to—”

Dylan released her, and a rush of air brushed across her back. Before Calvin had finished his sentence, Dylan was choking the life from him.

The room erupted. Wade ran to his brother’s side. Tom tried to get Jesse out of the room but gave up and rushed toward the cell. Wade and Tom pulled at Dylan, but he resisted them and continued to tighten his grip around Calvin’s neck.

At that moment, all of Skye’s fear left. This evil man truly could not hurt her.

She moved to stand beside Dylan and put a hand on his tightly muscled arm. “Love, not now.”

He loosened his grip just a little. Calvin hauled in a noisy breath and tried to pull Dylan’s hands away but didn’t have a prayer of doing so.

“You,” Skye said pointing at him, “are a pig. A tiny tool of a man who no doubt was nothing before all this. When this trial is over, and they bury you deep in the cold, dark earth, I will make sure there is nothing left of you to remember.”

Skye turned on her heel and strode past the door Jesse held open and out of the room. The boy followed her, awe covering his face.

“All right, Mom!”

Skye made it halfway across the station before she fell to her knees. She could hear Jesse yelling at her, but the ringing in her ears muffled the sound.

“Mom? Mom?!” Jesse raised his voice. “Dad!”

Dylan was there in an instant, picking her up and assuring her everything was fine. It was done now. All over.

She wanted to believe him, she really did, but even he knew the words were false. Skye closed her eyes on the swirling room and snuggled her face into his shoulder.

There was still the trial to go through.

Ten

The White Coat Question

That afternoon, right before the sun went down, Tom and Tricia came by. When Dylan opened the door, Tricia bypassed everyone, heading straight to Skye.

“Tom told me what happened today,” Tricia said as she hugged her. “That must’ve been so hard, especially with your anxiety and all.”

“It wasn’t great, but it’s over now.” Skye gave her a weak smile. “Sit and visit for a while.”

“Just a little bit,” Tom said. “I don’t like to be out much past sundown. It’s too hard to see in the dark.”

“I understand.” Skye stood and walked to the open kitchen. “What can I get you to drink?”

After filling a tray with drinks, she walked back to the living room and heard something Tom said that piqued her interest.

“…all I know is what they said, which wasn’t much. Basically, the three wished these ‘white coats’ would come and do their worst by us.”

Skye stopped, tray still in her hands. “What are you talking about, Tom?”

“I’m not really sure. Calvin was running his mouth after you left, then Tony and Pete chimed in, talking about a group they called ‘White Coats.”

Skye’s eye lit up as she glanced at Dylan. “It’s what Gregory was talking about.”

“Yeah, well,” Dylan replied. “Let’s remember that Gregory and those three ain’t our friends.”

She set the tray down and handed out the drinks. “I know. But do you remember what Gregory said about the White Coats?"

His eyebrows raised before lowering into a frown. "I've been doing nothin' but trying to forget that day. Why do you think I'd remember that?"

Skye slid her hand into his. It had been a bad day, first being attacked while scavenging, then being chased down, beat up and shot by Calvin and his goons. Dylan had raced from a gunfight to save her and barely got there in time.

"It's just,” Skye said, “I wondered if white coats might equal medical community."

"So."

"So, Dylan, maybe someone is still working on this, on finding a cure. Didn't they say something about a cure?"

"Well, if that's what they think they're doin', they ain’t doin' a very good job at it.”

When Dylan indicated he was done with the conversation, Skye turned to Tom. "Maybe they have more answers than we do or could at least tell us if we are really immune, or even if this is over. Wouldn't it be nice just to know if this is over?"

“It’s a thought,” Tom said.

Skye nodded. “I’d love to know that once these sick people are gone, that is it, and we can just, you know, live."

Tom leaned back, a thoughtful expression covering his face. “It would make sense that the government would have someone still working on this.”

“The government,” Wade scoffed. “The best thing they did was go out of business.”

Tom gave him a hard look and turned back to Skye. “Any idea where these people are located?”

“Tom,” Tricia said. “I don’t think this is a good idea. We’ve got enough to work on right here.”

Dylan exchanged a look with Wade, who raised an eyebrow.

“Don't even think it,” Dylan said. “It’s like Tricia said we need to work on keeping people fed and healthy on this mountain. Not traipsing all over creation, trying to find God knows who.”

“We’re just talking, Dylan," Skye said. "There's no harm in that."

"Okay, fine, let's talk about it," he said, his voice going flat. "If I remember right, they were selling people to the White Coats. You remember that?"

Tom reared back. “What?”

Skye held out a hand. "That could have just been Gregory. Come on. What hospital buys people?"

"I would imagine Frankenstein bought people, maybe Jack the Ripper," Dylan said.

"Dylan, what are you talking about? Those aren't real people. They are horror novels."

"We live in a horror novel. I thought you understood that."

Skye looked out the window and chewed her lip. What if Dylan was wrong, and they could get answers?

“As far as the AgFlu, the people are already infected. There’s no stopping what already happened. Those of us who got through it just did somehow. We don’t need to understand why.”

A frown grew on Skye’s face, creating a small line between her brows. "We really don't know that for sure, Dylan. We are just hoping we won’t get it again. But we could know for sure if we find them."

Dylan scoffed and turned away.

“If we pursued this, we would be believing people who are criminals,” Tom said. “Not the best thing to do.”

“I ain’t goin’ after them, I’ll tell you that. It’s dangerous, and I don’t even like talking about it. I’ll say it again. This isn’t the time to be leaving this mountain. This is the time to hunker down and wait out the worst of what’s going on.”

“The government is collapsing,” Wade said. “We’ve been out of the worst of it up here. But you better believe the healthy people left are being terrorized by the Infected and Sick. The criminal element will just be gettin’ worse. I agree with Dylan. ‘Sides, if there’s any good news, we’ll hear it from the Containment Center. It’s the only place in the area there’s still military.”

Skye sighed as Tom nodded his head. Wade had known what he was doing. Her cousin had been her only support in this conversation, and Wade had him at the word military.

“I understand what you’re saying,” Skye said. “But for some reason, I just feel it could be important. We could ask around. See if anyone else has heard anything.”

Dylan shook his head.

“Come on, Dylan. What harm could that do?”

“It’ll get people all riled up. Either to go and find them or it’ll frighten them. Not a good idea.”

Tom sat forward, elbows on his knees. “I agree. We don’t want to ask just anyone, but I could ask the other officers I touch base with on the radio. They may have heard something about it.” He glanced at Skye. “But, honestly cuz, much as I don’t want to think it to be, it’s most likely nothing or nothing good. But it’s got me mighty curious.”

Wade chuckled. “Just remember what happens to the cat.”

Jesse looked from one man to the other. “What cat? What happened to it?”

“This’ll just get someone killed is all it’s gonna do,” Dylan muttered.

The group looked at Dylan, and Tom said, “It’s this group here that decides things on this mountain. If you think it’s too dangerous to go out looking for them, I’m not going to argue with you. But I don’t see what harm asking about them would do.”

“I’ll agree with asking around,” Dylan said. Wade nodded.

The men looked at Trish and Skye. Trish and Skye agreed.

“Okay,” Tom said. “We have a plan. I’ll let you know what we find out.”

After Tom and Tricia left, Dylan looked at Skye then slowly put an arm around her. “You’re mad at me.”

“No. I understand. We both have our own opinions on the matter, but we decided you’re in charge of anything that could put us in danger. So, as hard as it will be for me to step back from this, I’ll honor your decision. All I ask is that when and if we get any more information about this, we have another discussion.”

He turned toward her and tightened his arms, bringing her closer. “I can do that. I appreciate you—this—”

“I believe in you and your abilities.” Skye brushed his hair back. “It would be foolish for me to question them.” When Dylan smiled at her, she brought her lips to his.

Maybe Tom would find out something that would change Dylan’s mind or make a search for these White Coats worth the risk. Or perhaps he would find out they were just one more group to stay away from.

Eleven

Big Sister

Skye, Dylan, Wade, and Jesse sat around the coffee table, studying a Jenga tower. Skye and Dylan sat side by side on the floor, Jesse and Wade on the couch.

Skye inched her way closer to the woodstove. Jesse didn’t blame her. It was a cold night, and he wouldn’t have minded changing places.

Dylan sent her a glance, then got up and threw a couple more pieces of wood on the fire.

Jesse smiled as the wood caught fire. The room would heat up soon enough.

Dylan sat back down and studied the tower as he studied prey. It would take him a while to decide which piece to pull out of there. He never made a move until he was good and ready.

Jesse leaned forward. If he planned on winning, he better do the same. Soon, the snap of the fire and their breathing were the only sounds that could be heard.

In the midst of the silence, a sharp knock at the door seemed that much louder, startling them all. Dylan and Wade moved for their weapons, and Jesse put a hand to his own knife until the night watchman called out his name.

Dylan opened the door, spoke to him, and nodded. Turning to the rest of them, he said, “We’re needed.”

Jesse pulled on his jacket and shoes. What was going on? He sent Dylan a raised eyebrow.

“Judge is here. He’s asking for you.”

“Me?” The word squeaked out. “I ain’t done anything.”

“He didn’t say that you did.”

Jesse stepped out into the darkness behind Dylan and shivered. Even with Skye beside him and Wade trailing behind, he found it daunting.

The moon’s light was thin today, making it harder to see than it should be. He squinted as he scanned the yard for any Infected or Sick. It was unlikely any would’ve made it through the Watch, but it was always one of his fears.

Jesse's fast, light breaths frosted in the air in front of him as he pushed his hands deep into his coat pockets.

He flashbacked to a day in town when the Infected had come to call. He’d barely made it out of there, but Mom had done it. Kelsey had been white as a sheet, so he’d made fun of the Sick so she wouldn't be so scared. But his own heart had thumped in his chest like a jackhammer he'd once seen some construction guys use on a sidewalk. He hadn't known a heart could do that, and the person still live.

Just thinking of that day got his heart going again. Jesse took a few deep breaths to calm himself like his Mom had shown him. He cleared his throat a couple of times as he crunched his way across half-frozen grass. The sound of it against the quiet night startled him.

Skye glanced at him. "You okay?"

“Yeah, fine.” He tried his best not to look rattled.

"Come here," she said, waving him up between her and Dylan. Jesse took a couple of quick jumps to catch up with them, and when he did, she laid her arm across his back. Her other hand laid on the knife at her belt.

He looked up at Dylan, who carried his rifle, his gaze alert and searching, as always, for any signs of trouble. Gun in hand, Wade came up on the other side of Skye, scanning in front, then behind the group.

Jesse put his hand on the hilt of his own knife as he trailed his gaze across the four of them and scoffed at himself. How many times had there been trouble? And how many times had they taken care of it?

What was he worried about? It was like he lived with a group of apocalypse superheroes.

After a few minutes, they reached a large cabin snuggled against a rock face with a few tall pines growing around it. The house had been empty until recently, when the group decided to use it for the trial. A room in the back had been cleaned up for the judge to use as a bedroom.

They climbed the few stairs and stomped their shoes on the weathered wood porch to kick off any dirt before going in.

The screen door creaked as it passed from one of them to the other. Stepping into the massive front room, Jesse saw the central area of the cabin had been cleared of any furniture. Only two chairs and a desk were left. He assumed that would be the front of the court.

An older man sat at the desk, his mostly grey head bent over some papers. A lantern made a circle of light around him just large enough to read by.

When the judge looked up, his gaze swept the group and landed on Jesse, locking eyes with him. Even from where he stood, the boy could tell he was the right man for the job. The older man’s sharp blue eyes seemed to pierce the younger’s soul.

"I'm going assume you’re Jesse Bailey," the judge said, his southern accent low and cultured.

Jesse looked up at Skye, who nodded at him. Dylan put a hand on his shoulder. Jesse straightened and said, "I am, sir."

"Very good. Well, then, I have something for you."

As he spoke, he waved someone out of the back. "Come on out now," the judge said softly.

A young teenaged girl nervously stepped out. Jesse’s eyebrows knitted together. Could it be?

It’d been years since he’d seen her. Then somehow, he just knew—was absolutely certain.

Had it been the way her round blue eyes flickered just a little bit when she peeked around the corner? Those eyes so like their momma’s?

Or maybe it was the tumble of messy, blonde curls that no one was likely to forget. But something, something told Jesse exactly who she was. His breath caught as he thought her name before he said it.

"Sue Ellen."

Twelve

Sue Ellen

The look of pure joy on Jesse’s face as he flew to his sister’s arms was not one Skye would ever forget.

As the two clung to each other, he’d offered Sue Ellen his yet to be completed room.

“So, Mr. Cole, I’m assuming daily updates won’t be needed anymore?” the judge asked.

Dylan chuckled. “No. I think that’s done.”

Pride warmed Skye. He was such a good man. “You arranged this?”

Jesse rushed to Dylan and wrapped his arms around him so tight, his dad gasped. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Dylan put an arm around the boy’s back. “I said she was family, and we take care of our own. I just didn’t wanna say anything ‘til it was done.”

Jesse nodded, his head still tight against Dylan.

Tentatively, Sue Ellen stepped closer to where Jesse stood with Dylan and Skye. Her eyes looked larger when she looked up at them. One of her hands moved to her hair and twisted a curl, making it even tighter. “Thank you, sir. It means a lot to me to be back with Jesse ‘n all.”

Skye smiled. The girl was cute as a button.

Wade whispered that his heart was nearly ripping from his chest.

Dylan took her small hand. “It’s my pleasure to be bring the two of you back together.”

The judge cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to interrupt this family reunion, but we have some other things that need to be discussed.”

Skye nodded as the three adults turned their attention back to him.

Word had arrived before the magistrate in the form of a letter. It said Judge Anthony Munson was a fair and honorable man, but his way of judging had changed after the near collapse of the justice system. Gone was the tangled web that used to be called justice. Instead, he offered a quick, clean trial with judgment served the same day. If you didn’t like it, you were free to find someone else.

Judge Munson had his own set of rules when it came to testimony, all of which seemed fair and reasonable. Only one worried Skye, posing a problem Tom had brought to her attention.

“I’ve had a sit down with Sheriff Tom Jackson,” Judge Munson said. “He and I went over his report. The men in custody, Calvin, Tony, and Pete, can rightfully be charged with assault of both you and Jesse, as well as attempted murder of you, Ms. Jackson. However, much as Sheriff Jackson wants to add on this long list of other crimes, there is no proof for them.”

He picked up a paper, scanning it. “Sheriff Jackson would like capital punishment to be on the table, and that will not happen for attempted murder. He suggested I talk to you about this.”

This caught Jesse’s attention. “He killed my dad!”

“Yes. Calvin committed murder with plenty of witnesses. He can be charged with murder. However, the others didn’t have a hand in that, did they?”

It took all Skye could do not to outright lie. But Tony and Pete had seemed as surprised as everyone else when Calvin pulled the trigger.

Stiffly, she nodded. “But when they pursued us through the woods, they detailed other crimes they committed. They were very explicit. I could write it down if it would help.”

“I see,” Judge Munson said. “I’m afraid that isn’t good enough.”

“My mom ain’t lying," Jesse shot back. “I was there too.”

“Yes, I understand, son,” the judge said. “What I meant was the confession of the men wasn’t good enough. There is no evidence those crimes were ever committed. I need two witnesses or for them to officially confess them to a law officer.”

“They confessed them to her.” Dylan waved a hand at Skye. “Wade and I were deputized, and we weren’t more than a few yards away.”

Judge Munson’s calm demeanor prevailed. “I know this is frustrating. But they are alleging they made up the crimes to scare Ms. Jackson and Jesse into doing what they wanted.”

The brothers exchanged a glance. Dylan shook his head and scoffed.

“We should’ve killed them when we had the chance,” Wade said.

“And then you would’ve been sitting in jail,” Judge Munson countered.

“Would’ve been worth it to see the scum gone.”

The judge raised and lowered his hands as he tried to calm the room. “They can still get life in prison. We have plenty of witnesses for that.”

Before being attacked by these men, Skye had been unsure of the death penalty. But face to face with the violence the men were capable of, she now firmly believed it was the right thing to do in this circumstance.

“How is life in prison practical now?” Skye asked.

“Well, ma’am,” Judge Munson replied, “that really isn’t up to me. I’m called in to make a judgment, and that’s what I do. Since there's not much formal government right now, what your town does with my decision is up to you. Obviously, a smaller crime with a smaller sentence is easier to handle. This one would be tricky.”

Skye looked at the planks in the wood floor. Tom would hold to the letter of the law, even when that law was as shaky as it was now. Tension rolled off Dylan and Wade. If this is how the case was left, it could erupt into a fight between them and Tom. The judge had practically told them his judgment wasn’t much more than words.

Skye laid a hand on Dylan’s arm, hoping to calm him, but instead, the jumping of his arm muscle put her more on edge. The man was doing everything he could to hold himself in check.

She looked to the judge, hoping he had a solution. “What can I do?”

“Well, Ms. Jackson,” he said, “I’m glad you asked that. Seems Calvin has a giant-sized bee in his bonnet over you. Against my advice, he’s representing the group, so he will be questioning the witnesses, and that includes you. You could try riling him up a bit as he does so. Try to get him to confess to something in open court.”

Skye glanced at Dylan, who looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She knew what he was asking. Could she handle being questioned by Calvin after everything he had put her through? Could she then turn it around on him and use his questioning against him?

Dylan had every right to question her ability to do that, especially after her reaction at the jail. But she would do what she needed to do to keep those men away from Jesse.

Skye turned back to the judge. “I absolutely can do that.”

“Good. Then we have no problem.”

Skye nodded, but her stomach tensed when she realized everything now depended on her.

Skye pulled her coat tighter as they stepped back into the chilly night. The two children clattered down the stairs, holding onto each other. She smiled as she warned them, “Don’t get ahead of us.”

Jesse’s automatic, “Yes, ma’am”, was followed by Sue Ellen’s as she cast a scared look back over her shoulder. Sue Ellen had looked frightened from the moment she’d peeked around the corner. Was that because everything the girl had been through, or were her eyes just very round naturally? Either way Skye’s heart went out to the child. Jesse's sister had just lost her grandmother, whom she'd lived with for years, and who knows what else she'd gone through. Hopefully, Sue Ellen would settle into the family as easily as Jesse had.

As they walked back home, Skye racked her brain for some fool-proof way to get Calvin to confess to what he and the others had done, but she couldn’t think of anything. A twig snapped under her boot and brought her back to the present. She blew out a long breath, creating a small white cloud she walked through.

“Don’t worry, darlin’,” Dylan said. “You’ll figure it out. I’ll help you however I can.”

She threw her arm around his waist and hugged him as they walked. “You’re the best guy I know. Always there for me and look at those two. Look what you did!” She pointed to Jesse and Sue Ellen. The girl hung onto her brother’s arm as they walked and talked.

Dylan's face reddened just a little bit before he cleared his throat. “Yeah, well—” he said.

She hopped up to kiss his cheek. “Yeah, well,” she repeated and smiled.

When they got home, Jesse pulled Sue Ellen into the house and showed her around as the adults watched from the door.

“That little girl is the sweetest thing I ever saw,” Wade said as the other's nodded. "Looks like we have ourselves another little addition to our family.”

Thirteen

Tension

Jesse looked over the railing into the cabin below. Nervous energy had filled the cabin from the moment he’d woke up. The trial began today, and everyone was on edge.

Skye rushed around the kitchen, preparing breakfast before they left. It wasn't her day to make the morning meal, but Dylan and Wade needed to check the traps before they went to court.

He and Sue Ellen sat in the loft. The last time Jesse had spent this much time up here was when Dylan and Wade had gone to battle. Skye had been with him, and the two had spent the entire day worrying about the brothers.

Last night, Dylan had helped pushed things around to make some room for a real bed. Since Jesse had promised Sue Ellen his room, he needed somewhere better than the couch.

The crack of eggshells and eggs sizzling made its way up to the loft.

"Mom!" Jesse said as he hung over the rough wood banister, "Remember not to cook mine too long."

"Yes, dear." Skye's tone was overly patient. It was his regular request even though she'd only overcooked his eggs once. However, in Jesse’s opinion, even once was too much.

Sue Ellen pursed her lips. In a hissing whisper, she said, "You call her Mom? She ain't our momma."

Jesse shrugged, then straightened some of his model cars he’d brought up, not wanting to upset his sister. But Sue Ellen did not let it go.

She wagged her finger at him, her voice becoming fierce as she added, "Our momma wouldn't like that."

"Well, she ain't here." He could see from her expression that it wasn't going to be enough. "I don't hardly remember our momma. And from what I do, she wasn't all that good to us."

"Still, she was our momma." She stabbed her finger toward the kitchen below. "That one ain't."

"She's mine." Jesse was insistent. This was something his sister would need to accept.

With fingers like iron, Sue Ellen grabbed Jesse's shoulder and shook it. "She ain't."

Jesse looked at her hand as it squeezed tighter and tighter. He slowly removed it and placed her hand on her knee. Sue Ellen didn't know how things were supposed to go. "We don't do that here, Sue Ellen."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Your my big sister, but there are some things you don't know, so I want you to listen." Jesse sighed when she made an exaggerated eye roll, then continued. "Mom—Skye—has saved my life more'n once. Even got herself almost killed saving me. That is what a parent does for their kid. That's how much she loves me. She earned the right to be my mom. Nobody else ever did that."

When Sue Ellen tried to turn away, Jesse moved with her. "Momma never did nothing to stop bad things from happening to me. I might not remember much, but I remember that."

Jesse pointed down to Skye. "That woman there—she's my mom. So get used to it. And if you're smart, you'll let her be your mom too."

Sue Ellen said nothing but pushed her lip out and crossed her arms.

"Sue Ellen, I don't know how it was for you at grandma's, but here, you don't have to worry about nothin'. Dylan, Wade, and Skye believe in taking care of kids. Not beating them or using them as labor. I mean, I do my part, but I have lots of fun too. It's good here. The first good I've ever had."

Still, Sue Ellen wasn't persuaded.

"It's real good here,” he repeated. “Just give it a while, you'll see."

Before Sue Ellen could answer, Skye called them to breakfast. The girl jumped up and ran down the stairs with Jesse right behind her, then immediately plopped herself at the table.

Skye had already added an extra chair, but that wasn't where Sue Ellen sat. As Jesse filled the cups with water, he said, "That's Dylan's seat."

"It's fine," Skye said quickly. "The guys aren't back yet, and I'm sure Dylan won’t mind anyway."

Glancing around the table, Jesse dropped into his chair. He liked his seat between the two men and across from his mom. Any place that Sue Ellen took was going to mess that up.

As if she could feel his discomfort, Skye stopped on her way to lay the plate of toast on the table to give him a quick hug, then kissed the top of his head. He looked up at her with a smile.

Yep, it was real good here.

Skye felt the tension between the two siblings as soon as they entered the room. The two had been glued to each other's side since they saw each other, and a tiff was bound to happen sooner rather than later.

After hugging Jesse, Skye walked over to Sue Ellen. While asking the girl if she needed anything, Skye laid her hand on Sue Ellen's shoulder only to have her jerk away.

So, Sue Ellen didn’t like to be touched. At least, right now. Perhaps she had also been physically abused, although if Skye remembered correctly, Jesse had said their father had never touched the girl.

But Skye remembered her one conversation with their grandmother. She hadn't seemed to be a very loving person. The old woman had said boys needed to be beat but hadn't included girls in that statement. However, she'd clearly stated that she took Sue Ellen in to help around the house. And who knew what she had gone through since the AgFlu had begun.

Skye tried to strike up a conversation with Sue Ellen only to get shrugs or mumbles in return. The girl seemed to get more and more irritated, so Skye stopped. In a final effort of kindness, Skye smiled and said, "If you need any help with your hair before going, let me know. I have some products in the bathroom.”

"Geez, lady!" Sue Ellen yelled at Skye, "I know how to do my own hair, I ain't an infant. Just leave me alone!"

Dylan and Wade walked in just as Sue Ellen went off. In the quiet room, the only sound was their boots hitting the floor as they removed them.

Skye and Dylan exchanged a glance as he started toward the table. Skye shook her head.

Sue Ellen was unaware she’d broken their most important rule. No angry words. Angry words led to angry actions, and they weren’t tolerated in this house.

Jesse's face turned red as he held himself back from yelling more than his sister’s name. "Sue Ellen!"

Skye patted the boy’s arm, letting him know she would take care of it.

Sue Ellen looked around her, taking in the mood of the room and sunk deeper into her chair, crossing her arms. "Whatever!"

Skye dragged a chair closer to Sue Ellen and sat. When the girl moved to shoot out of the room, Skye asked, "Do you really think you're going to make it out of here?"

Sue Ellen's eyes widened, and she settled back into her chair.

“Sue Ellen, we have a few rules in this house. One of the most important is no yelling. It won’t be tolerated.”

Skye rolled her shoulders to release the tightness in them. “I wish today could be about welcoming you to this family. Unfortunately, we have to get through this trial. It’s a tough day for all of us. So, today is about the conviction of three evil men who terrorized and attempted to murder your brother and me along with many other people. It is a very important trial.”

Sue Ellen somehow slid even further down in her chair and repeated, “Whatever.”

Skye sighed. “What is 'whatever' is this. You can come along with us and act like a mature human being by supporting your brother, or you can stay here by yourself. Whatever. But if you decide to come along with us, be aware that your attitude will be staying behind."

Sue Ellen made a little sound in the back of her throat.

Skye’s tone brooked no argument. "I need a verbal response of acceptance if you are going with us."

Sue Ellen sent questioning gaze to Jesse.

"Oh, she means it," he said.

The girl wiggled herself upright in her seat. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I'd like to go to support Jesse."

Almost as one, the four adults nodded their approval.

Wade loudly clapped his hands together. "I sure am hungry! Whatcha got cookin' over here?"

Dylan went straight for Skye, giving her a quick kiss and a hug. He grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him as she giggled and pretended to resist. Not allowing her to escape, he sat and forced her onto the chair beside him.

“You just sit here, darlin’. We’ll take care of everything else.”

Skye squeezed his hand and obeyed. It was the diversion they had needed, not only from Sue Ellen's outburst, but to avoid thinking of the upcoming events of the day. Everyone laughed at Dylan's antics except for Sue Ellen, who sat quietly watching, a slight squint dimming her bright blue eyes.

Fourteen

Court

After breakfast, they all pulled on their heavy coats and trudged to the same cabin they'd met the judge in the night before. This morning, though, people milled on the lawn, sipping coffee and talking in half-whispers.

The courtroom was almost full. A few people quietly jockeyed around so the five of them could sit together. Even though the proceeding hadn't yet started, most of the crowd also spoke in hushed tones.

Skye sat and nervously looked around the room. Almost everyone from the mountain was here. Only a few of the Watch, who were scheduled this morning, were missing. She greeted the friends who were close enough to hear her and tipped her head to those further away.

Behind them, someone opened the front door. There was a little rattle from the panes of glass, and everyone went silent as the defendants were brought in.

Tom led the way with Calvin, Pete, and Tony following single file behind him. Aaron brought up the rear, his dark complexion making the bright blue of his police shirt that much more vibrant. His clothing contrasted with the orange jumpsuits the three prisoners wore, lending a false cheerfulness to the somber day. Skye eyed the handcuffs and chains on the prisoners with satisfaction. Tom was taking no chances.

Calvin searched the courtroom as he strutted down the aisle, acting just as confident as the first day Skye had seen him. Skye quickly looked away. Her stomach turned at the sight of him.

Pete's eyes were glued to the floor. She ran her gaze over his massive figure and shivered. She could still remember the helplessness as he…

She couldn't think about that. Not until she had to.

Tony locked in on Jesse and stayed trained on the boy as they moved to the front of the room. Anger flared and worry too. Even after almost dying, Tony held on to his vendetta.

Skye trembled. She had almost died saving Jesse once, and she would do it again if need be.

Dylan's large, steady hand slid into hers, and her warmth changed from anger to love. She wasn't alone. Now she had family to back her up. She gave Dylan a soft smile and glanced around. More than that, a whole roomful of people.

She turned to Jesse, who sat ramrod straight, staring back at Tony with wide, but defiant eyes.

Skye put an arm around him. "It's okay, Jesse. We're safe here."

When Tony swiveled his head to glare at Jesse, Skye switched chairs with the boy. Once he was between Dylan and her, she sat forward and blocked the man's view.

Jesse sunk his head into Dylan's chest and quivered. His new father wrapped his arms around him, laying a big hand on the back of his head as he held him close.

"I got ya," Dylan said, glancing at Skye. "Both of you."

They both nodded. Jesse raised his head, and looking at Dylan said, "You won't let nothin' bad happen, right?"

"That's right. Me 'n Wade, we've got it covered," Dylan said as he patted his pocket.

Skye gave her boyfriend a sharp look, but maybe she was better off not knowing. Instead, she focused on Jesse. After Wade reached over and thumped him on the back. He seemed well enough to sit back up in his seat.

The gavel rapped, and Judge Munson ordered all eyes to the front as he outlined the rules of the day. He would call up each witness and let them tell their story. If the judge felt there needed to be a clarification, he would ask for one. Calvin, who was acting as an attorney, was allowed to ask questions. Witnesses themselves could volunteer anything they felt pertinent to the case.

Wade and Dylan testified in the morning. It went smoothly as far as Skye could tell. Calvin tried to claim self-defense in Frankie's murder, but Wade and Dylan didn’t offer anything to help his case. Both said their only concern had been the dying Skye and beat-up Jesse.

The worst part of it was hearing Calvin's voice drone on and on. It worked its way under her skin no matter how much she tried to ignore it. Skye was sure that is what the evil man intended.

As each witness walked back to their seat, the dark pit in her stomach grew bigger. By the time it was her turn, Skye was grasping Dylan's hand so tight she wouldn't have been surprised if it was numb.

Judge Munson's deep voice rumbled out, "Skye Jackson."

She trembled and started to stand, but her weak legs gave way. Skye shook herself and shoved to her feet.

"You're okay, darlin'."

Skye nodded, wishing all she needed to do was tell her story. But for those three to get the full punishment, she would have to do far more than that.

She needed to trick Calvin into confessing to murder.

Fifteen

Testify

Skye cleared her throat. Dylan's hand moved against her lower back, and Wade touched her hand as she passed them, giving her encouragement.

Calvin stood at the judge’s desk and, with a voice loud enough for all to hear, said, “Judge, this woman has been telling lies about me—us—since we met her. I ask to treat her as a hostile witness.”

Judge Munson glanced at Skye and gave an almost imperceptible nod. She had agreed to this plan. Whatever the judge thought was the best course of action is the one she would follow.

“There is no formal court here,” he replied to Calvin. “You can ask questions in whatever manner you wish.”

Calvin grinned, flushing with what he perceived as a victory.

Skye moved to the chair beside the judge and sat, gripping the seat with both hands. She hoped her nerves would work in her favor.

Calvin grinned. “Skye.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You can call me Dr. Jackson."

"Oh, Doctor, is it?" Calvin cackled. “I prefer Skye.”

She stared at him. "It's Dr. Jackson, and if your puny brain can't remember that, then Doctor is just fine."

Calvin's face reddened at her insult. Pete and Tony grumbled in anger behind him.

So far, so good. The more she angered them, the more likely they would lose control.

"Now," Calvin said as he crossed his arms, "Skye. Isn't your, shall we say hostility, why you're being treated differently from the other witnesses?"

"I don't know, Calvin.” Scorn filled her voice. "Is it?"

Once again, chains rattled as Pete and Tony shifted in their seats.

Calvin glanced over his shoulder at his jail mates. His voice became firmer. "Let's try this again. I'm asking you why you're being treated differently than the other witnesses?"

"I don't know,” Skye scoffed. “Maybe because I know you for the criminal you are. Or maybe because you're incompetent, unqualified, and just useless in general?"

The satisfaction of seeing Calvin's face turn beet red filled Skye's entire body, while the laughter that filled the room was a bonus. For the first time since Skye had known him, Calvin seemed uncomfortable, his confidence floundering. He was quickly becoming a laughingstock to the court and a disappointment to his friends.

Calvin rushed to Judge Munson, whining about Skye's lack of cooperation. The judge hammered his gavel until the room was under control, then he glared at Skye. Even though she was prepared for what he would say, the judge was intimidating. It wasn't hard for her to look as if she regretted her behavior.

"Dr. Jackson," the judge said, pretending to scold her. "This is my court of law, and you will behave in it. You stick to testifying. Whatever questions the defendant asks of you, you must answer, and that is it. Do you understand?"

Sticking to the plan, Skye lowered her head contritely. "Yes, sir."

Calvin, hearing the court go silent in preparation of his questions, strutted over to her. "Skye, on the day we met, that day on the road, did you hold a knife to my back and tell me you were going to kill me?"

Skye's mouth dropped open. Whatever she had imagined, it hadn't been this.

"Well, I—" she stammered as she tried to remember what she'd said.

"Do I need to ask the question again?"

"No. Yes, I did hold a knife to you, but I don't know what I said." Skye's gaze lifted to the audience when she heard a few gasps. "I don't remember what I said because I was afraid. You assaulted me."

"Me?" Calvin reared back as if in shock. "Did I even touch you?"

Skye narrowed her eyes. "You were giving the orders."

"I was? What exact orders did I give?"

Skye searched her memory. All the emotions were there, but the exact words were harder to remember. "I don't remember."

"Oh, well, you don't remember. Maybe the boy does. Why don't we ask him?"

Skye lifted her chin. "If you think that I'm going to let you drag my boy onto this stand so you can tear him apart, you can think again!"

Calvin walked up to her chair and leaned over her, slamming his fist down on the desk. Skye jumped. "I am in control of this courtroom now! With the judge's permission, of course." His hot breath fanned over her and Skye almost choked. She closed her eyes and tried to shove away her disgust. Then bowed her head as if she had no choice but to submit to his orders. "The judge said to answer my questions, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did."

"If you don't want your boy up here, that is what you will do. Won't you?"

Skye nodded. "Yes, I will."

Calvin beamed at the power he believed he had over her and this court. He leaned in closer to her. Skye froze and held herself there when all she wanted to do was run.

"Good girl," Calvin sneered.

She almost vomited. Dylan growled his displeasure, and Calvin smiled.

Calvin shot a glance at Dylan. “Now, Skye dear. The second time we met, in the woods beside the superstore. Did you not say that you would kill me?"

Once again, everything seemed a blur of fleeing, fear, and protecting Jesse. "I don't know," Skye said resignedly. "Maybe, if you threatened Jesse."

"So, I'd met you twice, and on both occasions, you threatened me with death. Is that true?"

Skye's answer came slowly, "Possibly."

"That is my recollection." Calvin gestured back to Tony and Pete. "It is my friends’ recollections too. Do you deny it?"

Could he possibly be trying to turn this around? But the plan was to go along with him, make him feel comfortable. Skye looked at the floor and shook her head.

"I can't hear you, dear."

"I don't remember."

"So, you can't deny it?"

Skye sighed but didn't answer.

"Skye? I'm sorry, honey, but I need an answer."

"No, I can't deny it."

The gleam in his eyes set her on edge, but she waited for his next words.

Calvin reached out as if to stroke her hair. Skye jerked away. He quickly glanced at the judge and clasped behind his back as he gave her a sly smile.

"Your honor. The simple truth is, I was in fear of my life, we all were. This woman and her vicious boy threatened us."

Giggles erupted in the audience, and Calvin turned to them.

"Before you laugh, let me inform you that this lone woman knocked that huge man out cold.” He pointed to Pete. "I thought he was dead!"

Calvin pointed out Tony. "Her boy cut Tony so bad that he couldn't walk. He will limp until the end of his days. And this was all within minutes of meeting her."

Calvin turned toward the judge with innocent eyes. "It was a deserted road, sir. When we saw her and the boy on their own, we only wanted to make sure they were all right, and violence was her payment.”

The thicker he laid it on, the sicker Skye felt. She heard Jesse groan.

"Is it any wonder, your honor, that on our second encounter I anticipated trouble? Of course, we defended ourselves!"

Skye shook her head, denying what was happening. The court became small and quiet.

Outside, a few birds called to each other. There was a scrape against the floor as someone shifted their feet.

Skye looked up and scanned the room. People were confused. This was supposed to be an open and shut case. Now they seemed uncertain.

Skye's insides turned to jelly. This was not supposed to be happening!

Sixteen

Attacks

The court was silent. Skye's hand tightened on the arm of her chair. If she were in that audience, she wasn't sure what she would be thinking. While Calvin was busy posturing for the crowd, she looked up at Judge Munson. He gave her a slight nod.

Once his dramatic pause had the desired result, Calvin went back to talking, describing just how scared he and the others were of her and Jesse. It was ridiculous but effective. The courtroom was riveted on every word that came from his mouth.

Skye shook her head. He must have sold a lot of cars back in the day.

Another glance at the judge told her he was waiting for her move. She watched as Calvin’s exaggerated gestures and felt her stomach churn. It would need to be good.

Wait for it, Dylan always said. When your moment comes, you'll know it.

Skye hauled in a deep breath. This was her moment.

She straightened in her hard wooden chair, changing her demeanor from a cowering, frightened woman to a confident one.

“You and the others tried to murder me,” she said. “You viciously attacked both Jesse and I with the intent of further assault. And held me at gunpoint, shot me, and left me for dead. And you killed Jesse’s father.”

Skye’s heart raced as she continued, “All this you did with no provocation. Everything you have testified to is false except for one thing. We did meet on a deserted road. From that moment to this, you and the other — gentlemen— have done nothing but terrorize Jesse and me.”

"You tried to attack me, you tried to murder me," Calvin said, mocking her as he continued to face the crowd. Pete and Tony snickered in the background. "Believe me, if I wanted you assaulted or murdered, then that is what you would've been."

"Really? I don't remember a whole lot of follow through." A satisfied little glow started in Skye when he spun around, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "You tried a lot of things, but none of them seemed to work out. A girl and a little boy beat you every time."

Skye kept her eyes drilled on Calvin as his face became red.

Good. This was what she wanted. His attention solely on her. Let him forget the courtroom, the blustering. With them out of his thoughts, maybe he would start the bragging he did in the forest when there was just the five of them.

He wanted to put her in her place? She would show him just how out of place she was.

Putting on the haughtiest expression she was capable of, she provoked him.

"You talk a good game, Calvin, you sure do. But I've seen nothing of what you say you can do. If you want to be a big threat in the apocalypse, want me to be afraid, then you need to show me what I'm supposed to be afraid of."

Skye threw out a hand. “You want me on my knees? Tell me what I'm begging for! ‘Cause all I see is someone who's now recanting the only thing I have been afraid of."

She wrinkled her nose. “What a tiny, little nothing of a man you are.”

Calvin's face and neck flushed a deeper shade of red. His eyes seemed to protrude out of their sockets. He rushed at Skye, furious.

She stiffened, grateful for the protection of the people around her.

When he reached her, his speech was quick and angry, but quiet enough those in the front rows needed to lean forward to hear. "You're going to lose, just face it and be done."

Skye tossed her head as if she hadn't a care in the world and crossed her arms. With a little grin, she leaned forward and said, "Oh, I don't think so. Why was I ever afraid of you? What have you ever done, really? You can't even shoot straight!" She giggled as she sat back in her seat.

The veins on the side of his neck stood out as he stuttered, "You- You go back to that road you almost died on! Stop at any house you come to, and all you will find is the dead. Because death is all that we leave behind!"

"Pfft!" Skye rolled her eyes. "Here we go again!"

Calvin clamped iron fingers onto her upper arms and squeezed. She gasped but didn’t fight him. Not when she was so close to a breakthrough.

Dylan's chair rasped across the wood floor as he jumped from his seat. Judge Munson held a hand up to keep him from interrupting.

Gripping Skye tighter, Calvin shook her. His eyes brightened when she winced. "You think this is bad, little girl? Snobby little doctor? Be glad you aren't in Barbarton. The name kinda reminded me of barbaric, so I figured, why not."

She lowered her gaze so he couldn't see her gleam of triumph. He took it as submission and gave her a smug smile.

It was all she could do not to shake him off her. Say it, just say it!

"Barbartown. The lucky ones are the dead. We left a few alive in case we wanted to return. No one will fight us now. We are kings there, more than kings. Do you know why we are kings?"

"No," Skye said breathlessly, shaking her still lowered head. She was almost dizzy, stretched to her limits, as she waited, waited, waited for him to say the words.

Calvin pulled his hands from her as he reminisced. “We murdered. Butchered. In every way we could think of. Though I suppose there are a few ways left we could try." Pete chuckled as if taking pleasure in the memories. Tony groaned.

Skye leaned back in her seat. It was all over now. Her job was done.

Then the horror of his words sunk in. She recoiled as the evil man’s face lit, recalling every inhuman detail they had put the people of Barbartown through.

The judge finally stopped Calvin mid-sentence.

Sickened, but elated the scheme had worked, Skye stared at him.

Calvin glanced from Judge Munson to Skye to the crowd, the realization of what he’d said coming over him.

He froze for a moment before his hands curled into fists and his jaw clenched. A chill ran through Skye as she saw fury wash over him. His eyes came back to her. If it hadn't been personal before, it certainly was now.

Her heart slowed as she tried to scramble away. It was too late. Calvin drew his fist back and slammed her below the eye.

The force of the blow bounced her head against the desk, causing a second explosion in her skull. She slid to the floor limp, barely conscious.

Calvin leaped on her. He found the soft area of her stomach and pummeled her, leaving her fighting for breath. When Skye managed to curl into a ball, he went for her kidneys.

Dylan’s growl made its way through her pain and fear.

Calvin clenched at her as he was pulled away.

It had only been seconds, but Skye laid there broken, gasping for air. But even then, she knew how fortunate she was. If she and Jesse hadn’t gotten the upper hand that day on the road, who knew what further abuses these men’s monstrous imaginations would’ve heaped on them? Tears rolled down her cheeks as much for the town of Barbartown as for herself.

The obscenities Calvin screamed broke through her thoughts as Dylan and Wade dragged him further away. But no part of her felt sorry for him. Not even when his yells of anger turned to pain from the solid blows raining on him.

The people of Colton were taking revenge for the deaths of their neighboring town.

Seventeen

Fight

Skye lay gasping, her own strained breath the only thing she heard. Her head spun with such force the wooden floor and white ceiling seemed to mix.

She closed her eyes. She needed to hold it together. But passing out might be the better option. The nausea building in her stomach was almost beyond her control.

Feet pounded against the wood floor, coming toward her. Skye peeked an eye open. Dylan's beige shoes. He crouched down and reached for her. She realized then just how much she needed his soothing touch.

"Skye, darlin'." Dylan's tender voice almost caused her to cry. And although he was as gentle as he knew how to be as he folded her into his arms, a loud groan escaped her.

"Where's the Doc?" Dylan shouted.

Sound rushed at her. It had been a selective thing a minute ago, her strained breathing and Dylan's footsteps the only things she heard. Now it all sped in. People shouting, babies crying, someone fighting. Skye lifted her eyes to see Tom and his two deputies jump on top of Calvin, who was a wild blur of hands and feet.

Skye watched, almost unattached, as the chained Pete and Tony threw themselves at the ball of men. Others from the crowd joined the melee.

When Jesse rushed toward the fight, her heart skipped a beat.

"Dylan!" she gasped out as she weakly grabbed his t-shirt and pulled.

Dylan was intent on his own mission to get her a doctor. He yelled across the room to Wade, not noticing her pathetic attempts to get his attention.

She raised a trembling hand and pulled his face toward her.

"Skye, what are you doing?"

Skye pointed to the bundle of fighting men. "Jesse! Jesse is in there."

Dylan's eyes widened. "No."

He took Skye toward the wall and sat her up against it, as far from the fight as possible. He whistled sharply to his brother. Wade was there in an instant, and Dylan nodded to the problem.

Dylan scanned the crowd and upon finding Tricia, waved her over. "Stay with Skye."

Then he followed Wade into the ever-growing battle.

Skye put a hand to her head as she tried to push away the overwhelming pain. After unsuccessfully searching for even a glimpse of Jesse, she said, "Oh, Tricia! What was he thinking?"

"He was thinkin' he's some great big fellow when he's only a little bitty one. A common defect of most young men and some older ones as well." She eyed the men with a wry grimace. "At this point, I'm thinking they're all just enjoying this, gettin' rid of all their tension."

"It's still dangerous."

"Um. Try telling them that."

Dylan and Wade made their way through the brawl, throwing punches and men out of their way. Wade grabbed the boy around the waist and pulled.

Jesse's fists still flew as he came, but Wade held him tight, hiking him up over his shoulder when he was clear of the conflict.

"Let me go! Let me go!" Jesse yelled as Wade carried him toward Skye. He pushed and wiggled as he tried to escape and rejoin the fight.

Wade gave him a little shake. "I know your blood is up, boy, but try 'n cool it down a bit. I can't let you go ‘til you settle."

Skye bit her cheek as Jesse eyed the fight, his chest heaving.

"Jesse," she said. "I need you. Could you help me, please?"

He huffed a few times. "Yeah."

Dylan made his way back to them, his hair wild. "Your stayin' put right here." He pointed from the boy to the floor beside Skye. "Wade and I need to help stop this thing."

"Let them get beat!" Jesse said to Dylan.

"I ain't saying they don't deserve everything they’re getting. But I want something left for the real punishment. I want them sweating in agony as they wait for it."

Jesse dropped to the floor, but his face was sullen. Skye raised a hand to brush his hair back, and he jerked from her as if in fear.

"Oh Jesse, are you okay?"

He frowned for a moment, then shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Come here, honey."

He sunk into Skye's arms. If she hurt a little bit more because of his weight, she didn't mind. Pulling his thick, dark hair back from his sweaty face, she examined a bruise already forming. "Are you hurt?"

"Nah. Not that. I just—When he hit you, the whole room turned red. I couldn't take it. All I could think is that I had to stop him."

Tears formed in her eyes. "It's okay, Jesse. You're okay now."

No matter how many sessions they would have, Jesse would always combat his own violent tendencies.

Dylan waved Wade on to help with the fight, which Tom was getting under control. He sat on the floor beside Jesse. "I get it, I do. But most times, you gotta fight those feelings. Try to think it through, no matter how tough it is to do."

"In this case, there is no cause for worry." Skye kissed the top of Jesse's head as she scanned the room. "The judge has it well in hand now."

They shot Skye a bewildered glance before looking at Judge Munson, just as he raised his arm into the air. The blast of his gun echoed through the room, numbing their ears.

Eighteen

Judgement

The ringing in Skye's ears seemed to go on and on. Most people had stopped, wincing at the pain the sound caused. Only the police moved, pulling people off the brawl until they reached Calvin, Tony, and Pete.

Though the three men were beaten, they weren't hurt as severely as Skye would have thought or hoped. They could still stand. She couldn't.

On the other hand, it was a testimony to the men beating on them. Yes, they were angry but not murderous. They wanted the prisoners final punishment to come through official channels.

As soon as the crowd calmed some, Judge Munson called the room to order. Skye wiggled herself up higher, holding her middle and groaning as she did so. But with a battered stomach on her front and bruised kidneys on her back, there was little she could do to find a comfortable way to sit.

"Darlin', let me take you out to the Doc." Dylan rose to help her up.

"Not yet, I want to see this. It's important."

Dylan hesitated. Skye was sure she didn't look too good if how she felt was any indication, but she didn't want to leave. "You wouldn't leave either if it was you."

"The second he's done talking, I'm taking you out of here, you got that?"

"Yes, sir," Skye said, playing along.

"Umm, I'm training you right."

Skye snickered and slapped his arm as he sunk down beside her. "Shut up."

Dylan laughed as he wrapped his arm around her, providing support. He kissed her neck and then murmured in her ear, "I'm worried about you."

"I know." Skye lay her head on his chest as she waited for the judgement to begin.

Judge Munson tapped his papers and cleared his throat. All eyes turned to him. Skye was so anxious to hear what he had to say she found herself holding her breath.

"For some men to be labeled human would be an inaccurate term. And so it is with you," the judge said. "Often when men have committed inhumanities, they are called animals. But this court would even hesitate to call you that. Because many times I have seen animals with more concern for their own, and others, than the three of you have had for your own kind.

"But you walk like men, you talk like men, you have the semblance of men, and as such, you will be judged.

"If this AgFlu is a plague, then your kind are the scourge that came behind it. Your own words have condemned you. You have visited death upon others, and now it comes for you.

"The humanity in me abhors the taking of any life, it says to let even these men live. Yet their victims cry out for justice.

"For them, I declare these men guilty.

"The Good Book says, ‘If a man injures his fellow man, then what he has done should be done to him. Fracture for fracture, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, the same sort of injury he inflicted should be inflicted on him. And if a man takes a human life, he should be put to death without fail. You will not feel sorry, life shall be for life.’

"I will heed its advice. I will not be sorry.

"You are hereby sentenced to death by firing squad.

"Further, I will stay for the execution. I personally need to see that the three of you no longer walk the face of this earth.

"May God have mercy on your souls, for I cannot."

Once the verdict was read, Skye nodded at Dylan. He picked her up, and she collapsed against him. "It's over. It's really over."

Dylan glanced down at her, compressing his lips into a thin line before he gruffly said, "It ain't over ‘til they're dead."

It didn't take long for the execution to be completed. Skye was patched up and lying in bed when she heard gunshots, and she knew without being told, it was done.

Later when the men arrived home, there was an air about them, as if they were relieved that a long, arduous task was finished.

Skye realized the dark, angry cloud of those criminals had hung over Dylan and Wade, as much as her and Jesse, since that day on the road.

On that day, Dylan had declared he and Wade would kill the three criminals, and he had been right.

A deep chill settled over her, Dylan had also said she'd be sorry for not letting him go after them. She was. Look at what had happened to them because she'd been unable to keep up with the turning of the world.

Those evil men had gone on to hurt her and Jesse. But they had hurt others more.

If only she would've listened.

If Dylan had done things as he'd wished, Barbarton would have been spared.

But she'd insisted she knew better.

Guilt burned through her. The one death she knew she was responsible for had grown to so many. How many deaths was it now?

She clenched the grey blanket she huddled under as if she could find sanctuary there.

She'd never been able to atone for the girl's death. How could she atone for these?

Nineteen

Nightmares

That evening the nightmares began. It wasn’t a surprise to Skye—if anything, she was actually surprised they hadn’t started before now.

Some nights she woke up sobbing, her heart breaking, as she dreamed of the death of her mother and father. The AgFlu slowly changing them from healthy, loving people to drooling, wasted shells.

Other times, she was again in that forest by the store, gripping Jesse's hand. Sweat rolling down her body, hauling in breath after breath as they flee for their lives from Calvin, Tony, and Pete.

However, the most frightening nightmares were the ones in which her mind brought to life the horrors Calvin bragged about. Forced to watch the evils the men commit one by one, each of the victims pleading for Skye's help, and her helpless to do anything but watch their suffering.

It was as if, now it was done, all the emotions she'd bottled up poured into her dreams, including her guilt. And even though her beaten body needed rest, she was afraid to sleep. In terror of what the dark held for her.

So, she lay with her eyes wide open, staring into the darkness, until exhaustion finally took over and forced her eyes shut.

A few days after the trial, she fell asleep in the early morning hours and managed to stay that way despite the stirring of the rest of the household.

Around noon, Skye jerked awake in the thick of wild imaginings. The sudden movement caused her still unhealed bruises to ache, and she groaned.

Looking around, she jumped again when she found Kelsey curled up in a chair across from her, a book in hand. “Kelsey?"

"Oh, hi," Kelsey said, her tone as soft as usual. “I didn't know— No one said not to come."

Skye tilted her head. "Is it your appointment time already? I'm sorry, I lost track.”

Kelsey scrabbled up off the chair. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come. You still don't feel well."

"No, no.” Skye waved her back. “I’m doing better. Maybe, since your here, you could help me out. Sue Ellen is always anywhere but here, and it looks like the guys have all deserted me. I'm tired of just laying here. Would you like to help me make some muffins?"

Kelsey brightened. "Sure."

Skye carefully maneuvered herself off the couch and into the kitchen, Kelsey trailing along behind her.

"You’re having nightmares," Kelsey said.

"Yes, I am." There was no sense hiding in it from the girl, she'd had her own share of them. "Dealing with those three men still has me on edge, even though it's over. They were just so evil."

Kelsey pressed her lips together and nodded.

“It’s not like evil people are a surprise. Even before, helping people the way I do, I know. Some who do bad things are confused or sick or in a bad situation. But there are others with a thin mask of humanity hiding their true thoughts. With the way the world has changed, it's as if that mask has been ripped away, and they have permission to act as they wish. We have to be so careful now.”

“I know,” Kelsey said, her voice so low Skye barely heard her.

Skye reached for the girl, pulling her close for a hug. “I hope it won’t stay that way. That Tom’s right and there is still some kind of government struggling to make it through this. But I don’t know.”

They stood there for a moment, soaking in the comfort of one another. Then, before Skye could stop the words, she murmured, "I feel guilty."

"Me too."

Both whispered. As if neither could say aloud the feelings that haunted them.

Skye pulled back and looked at Kelsey, her hands still on the girl’s shoulders. "Why do you feel guilty?"

Tears filled Kelsey's eyes. She opened her mouth twice before she could speak. When she did, her voice broke on the words. "Because I think I brought the sickness into my family's house. I wanted to go out with my friends so bad, and I didn’t think about what could happen. It's my fault they died.” Her body quaked with sorrow.

Skye pulled Kelsey back into her arms. "Oh, honey! The sickness was going to do whatever it was going to do. The same with the bad man who killed your father. You had no control over any of it."

In soothing Kelsey, Skye comforted herself. Yes, Calvin, Tony, and Pete had been left alive that day, but what they did after that was of their own making. She couldn't assume all the guilt for their actions. She closed her eyes and let the guilt roll away from her.

Kelsey looked at Skye. "Do you think so?"

Skye nodded and smoothed the girl's hair back as she smiled at her. "I do. I guess it will just take some time for us to get over it."

By the time Wade, Dylan, and Jesse tromped back into the house, Skye and Kelsey were curled up on the living room furniture enjoying muffins and smiling.

The three stopped and took in a deep breath. “Smells mighty good in here,” Wade said. “I’m gonna want you to come over every day, little girl, if this is what happens when you’re here.”

Kelsey giggled.

Jesse made his way over to where Kelsey sat. "Hey," he said, shifting his feet.

"You want a muffin? I'll get you one."

"Yeah," Jesse said, following Kelsey into the kitchen.

Kelsey chose a muffin, plated it, and handed it to the boy. He took a huge bite off the top. “It’s delicious! You sure do know your way around the kitchen.”

Kelsey rolled her eyes and laughed. The two pulled out chairs and sat at the table, soon in deep conversation.

"Told ya the boy was sweet on her,” Dylan murmured.

"That's my boy!" Wade said, causing them all to stifle their laughter.

“A little crush is fine, but they’re too young for anything else,” Skye insisted.

When Kelsey stood to leave, she said cheerily said goodbye to Jesse and Wade, then gave Skye a hug. She dragged her feet as she passed by Dylan, looking up at him with huge brown eyes. She mumbled a quick “Goodbye” and sped out the door.

Once the door shut behind her, Dylan asked, "Why is it that girl looks like a scared little rabbit whenever she's near me? Am I lookin' that much worse than him?" He pointed at Wade.

"Say more'n two words to the girl, and she might warm up to ya," Wade said. "Course I do have a charming personality, much better than the sour one you got."

"Oh now, Wade," Skye said. "Some of us like sour personalities. I, for one, love them." She pulled Dylan toward her and kissed him several times on the cheek.

"Stop it, woman! Dang, if I would've known I was gonna start this." Dylan rubbed a hand across his stubbled chin and his dark, shaggy hair. "I guess I could clean up a bit."

"Don't you dare!" Skye said, waving her hand over him. "This keeps the bad guys away. Don't change it one bit. She'll get used to it, I did."

"I took some gettin' used to, did I?" Dylan laughed. "Okay, no cleaning up then.” He propped his feet on the coffee table.

"A shower, mountain man of my dreams, from time to time wouldn't be a bad thing."

"I'll have you know, I take a shower at least once a month."

"Ugh! If that were true, I wouldn't let you anywhere near me!"

"Or is it once a week, or once a day?”

"Well, that reminds me of what I gotta do," Wade said as he headed toward the bathroom. "It's been about a week for me."

"Please tell me that isn't true," Skye said with a roll of her eyes.

When Wade just flashed them a big grin, they all yelled, "Wade!"

Twenty

Barbarton

Dylan looked over the morning’s catch as he, Wade, and Jesse walked through the woods back to the cabin. They had a decent haul. The traps had been over half-full, and they’d downed a couple of turkeys on the way. They’d have enough for themselves and to share.

Jesse’s stomach gave a loud growl. Dylan chuckled. The boy ate nonstop. He’d come to them skinny, almost delicate-looking, and was now sturdy and healthy. It gave Dylan a lot of satisfaction that he’d had a hand in that.

Jesse looked up at him and laughed. “I’m hungry!”

“Yeah, I’m feelin’ it too.” Dylan rubbed his stomach over his thick, blue flannel shirt. “I need me some eggs, sausage, biscuits, and gravy.”

“You two are killin’ me! Will you just stop?” Wade said, before he gave in and added pancakes to the list.

After settling their haul in the shed, they tumbled through the cabin door along with a cold blast of air.

Skye sat on the couch, wrapped in an afghan and nursing a steaming cup of coffee.

“Get up, woman!” Wade said, initiating their morning routine of playful banter. “You have three starvin’ men on your hands.”

Skye rolled her eyes as she laughed. “Good thing you all know how to cook!”

Nevertheless, Skye got up and started pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator.

Dylan gave her a wink and quickly washed up. Then he walked to the cupboards, getting a few things from them.

Wade disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes before pulling the pans out and slapping some sausage on the skillet. “Sure glad the Wilson clan shared that pig with us. They sure do know how to put some sausage together.”

Dylan pulled in a whiff. “Gotta agree there.”

“Where’s the girl?” Wade asked, and Skye tipped her head toward her room.

Dylan frowned. Sue Ellen may live here, but you wouldn’t know it by how often they saw her. Skye said she’d settle in. But he couldn’t see any sign of it.

“Sue Ellen!” Wade’s voice, which was rarely quiet, now boomed through the house. “Get your hinny out here!”

A faint groan came from her room. The girl slept later and later every day.

“Don’t make me drag you out here!”

A pronounced groan, then some stirring. Finally, Sue Ellen stumbled to the door of her room and leaned on the doorjamb. She rubbed her eye with one curled hand while shoving a tumbled mass of curls out of her face with the other. “You’re mean,” she mumbled. Her standard morning greeting to anyone who woke her up.

“Yep, I sure am. Mean enough to want you to get your share of breakfast. Now do what you need to do to get in here.”

Dylan eyed the girl as she pouted and scuffed her feet to the bathroom. She wasn’t even trying to be part of the family. It was like she was pushing all boundaries with them.

Just yesterday, he’d had to put an end to her lip with a few stern words. She argued with Skye over every little thing and scowled at him. Jesse, who was always happy to see her, seemed like an afterthought for her. She got along best with Wade. For now, it seemed fine. His brother’s stern side allowed no slacking or no serious mouthing off, and his playful side seemed to be able to coax her even in her worst moods.

Once the morning meal was over, Wade headed out the shed to take care of a few things. And Jesse and Sue Ellen headed over to the Doc’s for some more medical lessons with the other kids from the community.

Skye poured herself another cup of coffee and caught Dylan’s hand. She gave it a slight tug as she moved to the couch. Settling in, she leaned against him as he wrapped his arm around her. Dylan felt the warm light glow that he always felt around her deepen.

He loved this woman, her strengths and weaknesses. One of his favorite times of the day was when she rested against him as if absorbing some of his physical strength to help her through the day. If that were possible, he would have gladly given it to her. He would give her anything.

Dylan tipped her head back and lightly kissed her lips. Then he gently traced the bluish skin below her eyes with his calloused thumb. “You’re still tired.”

Skye shrugged and smiled. “As you know, morning and I have never really gotten along, even on a good day. Sue Ellen and I do have that in common.”

“You didn’t sleep well again.”

Skye wiggled her chin off his hand and kissed it before snuggling her head on his shoulder. “I know it’s not my fault, but my mind keeps going back to them.”

Dylan knew exactly who she meant. The people of Barbarton. He could tell it weighed on her.

It weighed on him. If he’d just ignored her and taken care of those three, his own family and the townsfolk of Barbarton would’ve been better off.

But he hadn’t.

And he couldn’t take that on himself any more than… Dylan pushed the old guilt away as he had done so many other times. He had enough that truly laid at his door, he didn’t need to pile on what wasn’t really his. But regardless of what his brain said, his heart disagreed, and his mind took him back.

Twenty-One

Storm

Dylan’s gaze roamed the cabin, recalling the mess it'd been the first time he and Wade had laid eyes on it.

A storm had been the beginning of it all. A massive thunderstorm with tornado warnings started his father drinking even heavier than usual. Both the warnings and the drinking continued without letup. It was the first time Dylan had realized the man was afraid of storms.

Dylan startled when his deep voice broke the quiet of the room. He hadn't intended to speak out loud. He had, in fact, never talked about his scars, not with her.

It was one thing for her to see them, another to talk about them.

She’d never asked. He knew now she was waiting for him, allowing him the time he needed. Dylan kissed the top of her head in appreciation. She needed to know. She deserved that.

The words tumbled out. Slow at first, then gathering force.

To his surprise, as the words came, he became lighter somehow, as if at least some of the horror was leaving him. He and Wade had held these stories for a long while, and it was time to let them go.

Skye’s arms tightened around him, giving him the strength he needed.

Dylan cleared his throat and continued, “He’d already bashed us both a few times. Wade’s nose was bleeding, and my head was spinning from a backhand he’d given me. The two of us weren’t so big then, just a couple of scrawny, underfed boys. He easily got us under control when he wanted.

“It was when Dad came after us with a knife that we ran. But not before he got a couple of good jabs at me.

“We had no choice but to disappear into the storm that night. The wind was fierce, howling like a pack of wolves readyin’ for the hunt. We couldn’t even hear each other when we shouted.

“It was so black. Only when the lightning flashed could we see, just for a moment.

“I remember slamming against one tree then the next, gripping them as the heavens opened and water streamed down between the cracks in the bark. My fingers went numb. I’d catch my breath before movin’ to the next tree.”

He shuddered, and Skye rubbed a hand along his back. “We didn’t know where we were goin’, but we got into this pattern. Lightning strike, run and wait for the next one. I ain’t sure how long we did that. It seemed like forever.

“And we kept peekin’ over our shoulders, waiting to see him in the next flash of light.

“We headed to the only place we ever felt safe, the deep woods. I reckoned the further in we got, the less we’d feel the storm. And I knew those trees like the back of my hand.

“But in that storm, I lost my way. We wandered for a while and found our way up over a little ridge. The next time the lightning struck, it lit up this little shack nestled in the trees. We raced for it.

“It had half a roof then, no door, a good third of the plank was missing, but it was enough. We huddled here through the night. I remember bird song waking me up.

"It was a bright, sunny morning. Everything seemed clean and new. Then I moved. I was so bruised up, I could hardly find a patch of normal skin. Then there were the knife cuts. And Wade's face was so swelled, he couldn't see but out one eye.”

Dylan lowered his head. “We said we’d never go home. Never see him again. But that was just a boy’s dream. By morning, I was still bleeding, and Wade couldn’t get it to stop. So we went back.

“Dad wasn’t there, and to this day, I’m not sure where he was. I don’t know if he left of his own accord or if mom told him to go, though that would’ve surprised me. Mom must’ve seen us comin’ ‘cause we weren’t even to the door yet, and she came running. It was the only time I ever remember her hugging me.” Dylan’s voice cracked.

“She brought us inside and stitched me up. She must of said she was sorry a hundred times. She held my face in her hands as she cried and said, “He’s gonna kill you. When he’s bad off, it’s all he thinks about.

“It was me he went after the most, on account I wasn’t really his and all. And I knew it in my gut when she said it. I knew I had to get out of there if I wanted to make it to manhood.

“So after we healed up some, we came back here and started workin’ on this place, stayed here when Dad got too bad. Fixin’ it up took a while. The neighbors didn’t warm to having a couple of Cole kids loose in their neighborhood.”

Dylan snorted. “And after we realized we could ask for supplies instead of stealin' them, things went better. We started swapping for things. We learned how regular people work together." Dylan waved his hand in a circle. "These people around here, they taught us. I’m not sayin’ we turned into angels. The townsfolk sure never did take to us. But we got the edges knocked off enough that the mountain folk could stand the Cole brothers.”

When he turned to Skye, she lightly kissed him. “This townsfolk cares for you.”

Over his shirt, Skye traced the scars that came from that night. “What you’ve been through is terrible, Dylan. It’s a tribute to your strength and character you’ve turned into the man you are. You must love this place. It was your sanctuary in a greater sense than most people’s homes.”

"I do." Dylan nodded. “But I hate it too.”

Skye gave him a puzzled look.

“It was a sanctuary,” he said. “But it was also something else.” Every muscle he had tensed with the memory.

Skye raised a hand to his cheek and stroked it. “What is it?”

He pulled away from her, moving to the edge of the couch. “Get on a coat. We’re going to the overlook.”

“The overlook?”

“I said, get your coat.” Dylan's frown deepened as he heard his rough voice. He hadn't meant to sound like that, but it was beyond his control.

He felt like he was on the edge of something. An uneven rushing started in his ears. One he'd only heard a few other times in his life.

He felt the pull. The draw to go to the place he mourned.

Skye stepped beside him, ready to go. He grabbed her wrist a little too hard. When she winced, he loosened his hold and slid his hand down into hers.

When she opened her mouth to say something, he stopped her. “Not now. Not yet.”

She nodded and hurried to keep up with his longer stride, as they went out the door and up the trail.

He needed to gather all his courage for the story he had yet to tell. Because after that, Skye might pack her bags and leave him.

Twenty-Two

The Overlook

The air was crisp. A bit of snow lingered in the shadows of the craggy rocks they passed. It was quiet, and still, no bird calls or chipmunk scurries from the overhanging branches. Dylan wondered if the animals felt his tension. He felt tighter than a bowstring.

The soft thump of their boots hitting the well-worn trail was the only sound.

They passed from the shelter of the trees onto the bare arch of the overlook, and Dylan stopped. Why am I doin’ this?

He looked at Skye, sinking into her green eyes. For her. He was doing it for her.

Dylan tightened his grip on her hand as he walked to the edge of the overlook. "Remember when I told you I hated this place?"

"Yes, I remember," Skye said. “The day of the picnic.”

"It's because this is where my guilt lies. Down this cliff. Down the very drop Jesse would've gone that day."

Wide-eyed, Skye looked down the rocky, steep mountain. "What's down there, Dylan?"

It took him a moment. He pressed his lips together more than once before he could steady himself enough to say, "My mother."

"What?" Skye’s gaze whipped back to his face.

He couldn’t look at her. It was hard enough to hear the shock in her voice.

"Dylan, your mother is truly down this cliff?"

"Yes."

"Oh, no, Dylan," Skye softly said as she shook her head and stumbled backward.

Her actions mirrored the ones he'd had when his father had dragged him and Wade up here and told them. It'd taken every shred of his will not to shove the old man down there too.

Dylan felt Skye's free hand grip his arm, felt her pull him away from the edge. He let her.

"Why?" she asked softly.

Dylan's tight shoulders slumped as he gazed at her. Tears sat ready to fall from her eyes, her skin had lost its rosy glow and seemed paler than usual. A cold wind rushed up from below the cliff, fiercely stirring her dark hair. Dylan moved his hand to gently push it behind her ear. Then he wrapped his arms around her to ward off the chill.

"After what Mom said. Her being worried he'd kill me and all. We started stayin' up here more and more, fixing up the place. One day, we hammered the last nail into the roof, and I said we shouldn't ever go back. It was me.” He whispered the last words.

"Wade was all for it at first. But after a while, he wanted to go home. It was a lot for him, being the oldest. I think he felt responsible for makin' sure we did okay.

"I refused. I told Wade to go back if he wanted, but I wasn't going, so he ended up stayin' too. Maybe because I gave up my real dad for him."

Dylan cleared his throat. "We'd heard Dad was ornerier than ever. We'd stopped in and seen Mom a couple times, making sure she was okay. She didn't let on. We didn't know.

"She was never close with Wade and me. Wasn't all that caring of a woman. Wasn't really even a good mom, I always knew that. But she didn't deserve what she got.

"The last time we visited her. She told us to go away and not come back. That we were just causin' her trouble. I was upset, but Wade took it real hard and stormed out of the place. When I looked back at her, she seemed, I don't know, lost somehow. I thought then she was saving us. That was the last time I saw her, with that look on her face.”

Dylan narrowed his eyes. "We knew Dad had been tryin' to find us. It was easy enough to avoid him, but we worried someone would tell him where we lived. Seems that's what happened. Otherwise, why would Mom be here?

"I was smashing bottles against a wall in town when Mom raced up here after him. Revving a sports-car I hotwired when he turned to drag her to the cliff. And chuggin' a bottle of Jack when she screamed her last words as she fell.

"I didn't see any of it. I didn't hear any of it. But I feel all of it now.”

"Dylan, what are you saying?"

"The old man was coming for us, and Mom tried to stop him. So, he threw her down there, Skye. Like she was nothin'. Like it was nothin'."

Skye's legs crumbled beneath her, and she pulled Dylan down with her. Her arms tightened around him. “Oh, that’s terrible.”

Silently, they sat there on the cold, stiff grass for a few minutes before Dylan spoke again, "I always thought, in the end, she was a good mom."

"She was a wonderful mom. She gave her life for her children."

Dylan nodded and laid his head against Skye's for a moment before saying, "For a long time, I took that guilt on myself. Thinkin' if I'd gone back or checked in more—but the thing is, I didn't kill her. He did.

"You didn't kill those people in Barbarton. Those three did. Sometimes things happen because of something we did. Sometimes they're our fault, but sometimes they ain't."

Dylan put his hand to Skye's face, feeling her smooth skin as he tipped her head to him. He waited until her eyes met his. "These things here. They ain't on us. Yeah, we feel the weight of them, but we gotta push it behind us."

Skye lowered her gaze, and Dylan tipped her chin a little more. "Ya hear?" he said.

Skye reached up and pulled his hand away from her face, kissing it as she did so. "I know. You’re right. It's just hard."

Dylan looked out at the blue sky where the ground of the mountain disappeared. "It sure is."

Skye stroked his hand. "And your dad?"

"Dad told everyone she went off to live with some of her relatives in Texas. No one checked on it. The cops just thought we were, well, what we were, and didn't pay us any mind when we told them.

“We knew, ‘cause he told us, threatened us with the same thing. He let us know our mom died because of us. ‘Course then he lit into us and dragged us home. But it was the last time.

"We left him there in that empty house. Never stepped foot in there again, not once in years. Then, Wade and I got word a few weeks after the AgFlu started that he'd gotten sick. So, we headed to town to watch him die. We had to. He'd done so much damage. Wade and I, we wear his scars in our memories and on our bodies. We needed to know he was gone."

"Did it help?"

Dylan held his breath for a moment before letting it out in a rush. "Some days. But he still lives on. We still hear him belittling us when we screw something up. Still see him comin' after us, when we catch sight of our scars. Still wake hard from our nightmares.”

Skye rose to her knees, then ran her fingers through his hair. "Why didn't you tell me this before now?" she asked.

Dylan shook his head and looked away. "I don't know. It's been on my mind to, but I'm always thinking—this will be the thing that sends her packin’."

Skye pulled in a quick breath, her mouth in a little “o”. "Dylan. I’ve told you, you can't get rid of me now if you try. Never, ever. You got that, mister?"

Relieved, Dylan felt his chest warm the way is always did when she reassured him. He ducked his head, looking up at her with a grin. "Never, ever?"

"Never. Ever."

His smile turned to a smirk, and his hands tightened on her sides. "Then get over here, girl!"

Skye giggled wildly as he tickled her. "Stop, stop! I can't breathe!"

Dylan pulled his hands away and held them up.

Seeing her chance at escape, Skye scrambled over him, and took off across the grassy area, heading for the trail down the hill.

Dylan shot after her, laughing. "Hey! What happened to 'never ever'?"

Throwing a glance over her shoulder, Skye shouted, "You're going to have to catch me."

He chuckled as he gained on her. That wouldn’t be so hard to do.

Twenty-Three

Potatoes

The next morning, Skye knelt on the ground, working in her garden. Although she hadn’t been much of a gardener before moving up here, with some reading and Wade’s guidance, she had a nice little crop of winter vegetables growing.

She lifted the lid on one of the mini-greenhouses and checked the plants' progress. Which was far enough along for dinner tonight? While Skye was still deciding, Sue Ellen plopped herself down beside her.

“What are ya doing?” the girl asked.

Skye sent her a welcoming smile. It wasn’t often Sue Ellen willingly interacted with her, and she didn’t want to send her fleeing now. “Figuring out what looks good for dinner. We have a bit of a choice. Onions, spinach, kale, peas or carrots. What sounds good to you?”

“Carrots. That’s what I’d like.”

“Okay. Sounds good. And how about a stew? We can use some onions, and a bit of garlic, for it. I just wish I could scrounge up some potatoes.”

“I think that old lady across the way was talking about having some potatoes.”

Skye looked the way Sue Ellen had nodded. “You mean Mrs. Gilmore?” When Sue Ellen nodded, Skye murmured, “Umm, I wonder if she would be interested in trading me some for something I have here.”

“Maybe.” Sue Ellen tipped her head. “You know what you should do? You should start a little bartering place, like a swap meet. Then everyone would have one place to trade what they don’t want for what they do want.”

“Sue Ellen! That is a great idea. Much better than going from cabin to cabin for stuff.” Skye patted the girl’s back. “I guess it took some new eyes to see what we were missing.”

Sue Ellen looked at Skye then at the ground, her cheeks pinking. “I could help out some.”

Skye's heart warmed with this first real offer of— well, anything from Sue Ellen. “Of course, you could. It’s your idea!”

Skye frowned as she started to think about the details. “Where could it be held? I wonder if we could use—”

“The courthouse!” Sue Ellen broke in. “I mean unless that’s a dumb idea.”

“Of course not! It’s just what I was thinking. I mean, hopefully, it won’t be used a lot for court cases. It would be nice after what happened to use it for something, I don’t know, happy.”

Skye rose and brushed the dirt from her knees. “Let’s take these into the kitchen, then go see if Mrs. Gilmore will trade some potatoes. And we’ll ask her what she thinks of a swap meet. I bet she’ll love the idea.”

Sue Ellen hesitated, and Skye prayed she wouldn’t suddenly turn sullen as she often did. “Come on. She’ll love it, and I can’t very well act like it’s my idea. You should come with me.”

“Okay, sure. Why not?” Sue Ellen shrugged. As they walked, she said, “I want a music player like you have.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. With everything that happened, I kind of forgot about some things. You can use mine whenever you’d like.”

“I appreciate that, but I want my own. I’ve always wanted one, but Grandma said no. Probably too expensive. But now they’re not, right? Maybe we could trade for one?”

Skye nodded. This may be an excellent opportunity for Sue Ellen to offer something more than a sulky glare and a few curt words. The only people she was civil with were Jesse and Wade, most of the time anyway.

“How about this?” Skye said. “If you can see your way to helping me get this thing started, it’ll be the first thing we trade for. Is that a deal?”

Sue Ellen’s eyes brightened. “It’s a deal.”

Skye could smell the fresh-baked bread even before they stepped foot in Mrs. Gilmore’s yard. The older woman had moved up from Colton with her daughter, Georgia, and seventeen-year-old grandson, Travis. They were all that was left of her once large family consisting of over forty relatives.

Skye scanned the glen. Georgia and Travis’ home stood right beside Mrs. Gilmore’s tiny one. Across the way was a new neighbor. A woman who looked to be in her forties was chopping wood. The two waved at each other, and Skye made a mental note to stop by and introduce herself.

“Do you know her?” Skye asked Sue Ellen.

“How would I know her?” Sue Ellen groused at her. “I just been here a few weeks.”

Skye controlled her irritation. And she’s back. “I just don’t remember seeing her before.”

Sue Ellen shrugged, unwilling to add anything else to the conversation.

Mrs. Gilmore opened the door wide and seemed tickled pink to be receiving visitors. She swept Sue Ellen up in a hug. “Look at this beautiful young woman!”

To Skye’s surprise, the girl not only allowed the embrace but seemed to enjoy every minute of it.

“How fortunate you are to have a girl now. My Georgia is the light of my life!”

Even though they’d had a rocky start, Skye hoped someday she could say the same about Sue Ellen.

“Yes, we are. And she’s coming up with the best ideas.” She waved at the girl to encourage her to explain.

Sue Ellen glowed as she prattled on about the swap meet. She had good ideas on everything from the way it should be organized to the items that would probably trade best.

Skye stood back and smiled, happy the girl had found something she was so interested in.

Mrs. Gilmore acted as though it was the best idea since sliced bread and said as much. Skye wholeheartedly agreed.

“You know,” Skye said, putting an arm around Sue Ellen’s shoulders, “we shouldn’t just call it a swap meet, we should name it. We should call it, Sue Ellen’s Exchange. What do you think?”

Sue Ellen’s blue eyes grew rounder than usual. “Really? My name?”

“It sounds like a wonderful name to me,” Mrs. Gilmore said. “It’s your idea, after all.”

As Skye loaded up the potatoes, Mrs. Gilmore had eagerly traded for onions and garlic, the sharp sound of an ax reminded her of the neighbors. “I didn’t realize you had new neighbors.”

“Oh, yes, Annette her name is,” Mrs. Gilmore said. “Says she was passing through Colton and the deputy on duty down there sent her up here. Been here about a week or so. Seems nice enough, but I haven’t talked to her all that much.”

Mrs. Gilmore peered out the window at the woman. “Don’t know why she’s doin’ all that choppin’, she’s got a man in there. Wonder if he’s feeling under the weather.”

Skye shivered, an automatic reaction now anytime word went out someone was ill. But people still got colds and other flues all the time. “I hope not. You take care, Mrs. Gilmore. I’d stay on your side of the glen until you know everything is fine.”

“I will. And you two call me Maisey, you hear?”

Skye and Sue Ellen nodded. As they turned for the trail home, a young man came out of the cabin beside Maisey’s. The boy’s shirt hung over his shoulder.

“Dang!” Sue Ellen murmured.

Skye had to admit he leaned more toward man than boy, but she pretended not to have heard the girl.

Across from Travis, a man came out of Annette’s cabin and took the ax from the woman. When he began to chop the wood himself, Skye blew out a relieved sigh. The last thing they needed was any sickness making its way through the community.

Twenty-Four

The Exchange

Word spread throughout the community about Sue Ellen’s Exchange, and excitement was high. Everyone had something to contribute, and something else they would be looking for.

With Dylan, Wade and Jesse’s help, Sue Ellen’s Exchange was set up by the next Saturday.

The chairs from inside the courthouse were scattered under the trees and tables loaded with sale items filled the large room. Outside, someone grilled burgers, and someone else fried apple fritters.

Skye’s stomach growled. She couldn’t wait to taste some of the food. She watched as people loaded up their tables and helped where needed. But more often than not, she was drawn to the happy musician playing the fiddle to the side of the gathering.

Warmth spread through Skye and she smiled. The whole mountain had come together for this. It had been something everyone needed. The day was warmer than usual, but Skye didn’t think that would’ve mattered. The lively chatter all around her told her everyone would have been there even if it had snowed.

For lunch, Skye made a plate and wove her way through the small gathering toward Dylan. They’d both been so busy this was the first time they could take a moment to sit down. He waved her to a chair beside his.

“Oh, Dylan! I love this. It turned out so great. It reminds me of the farmer’s markets I used to go to in the city.”

“People been doin’ this for centuries, no matter what they call it. Don’t know about anyplace else, but here, it’s in the blood.”

“I feel that the Agflu hasn’t really changed this mountain and its people all that much.”

“It ain’t. Not most of us anyway.”

“I was very, very fortunate that day I found you on the side of the road, mountain man.”

Dylan shoveled another large forkful into his mouth and swallowed as he shook his head in disagreement. “I was about to come down the mountain and haul you up. It was getting too dicey in town.”

“Oh, you were, were you?” Sky laughed. “That would’ve been interesting.”

A twinkle lit his eye. “I thought so.” He scanned her plate. “Where’d you get potato salad?”

“Anita has it. She keeps apologizing that it doesn’t have all the ingredients, but I don’t know why, because it's still so good.”

“I’m gonna get some.”

Skye nodded and watched him as he walked away. One of her favorite views. She blushed when an old woman across the way caught her. But the lady just winked at her.

After taking her last bite, Skye leaned back in the wooden fold-up chair and put a hand on her full belly. Before living here, she would’ve found this gathering a quaint, old-fashioned way of socializing.

But it wasn’t that at all. It was a time-tested way of marketing, socializing, and building friendships.

When Dylan tapped her arm with a bottle of moonshine, she raised an eyebrow and took a sip.

And more than that, this was fun.

That evening, as they made their way back home, they chatted about the day.

Jesse went on about some boys he had met and their game of makeshift basketball.

Wade, who had over-indulged a bit on both food and drink, insisted on singing. It seemed that with every step, his voice got louder.

Every so often, Jesse would send him an eye-roll and raise his own voice a little more.

Sue Ellen proudly showed off her first-ever music player. It already had many songs on it, and Bre was going to download more from their computer.

As Skye had promised, it was the first exchange the family made. She’d given the girl a few different household items with which to barter. Sue Ellen had hardly used any of them, so Skye assumed she had gotten a good deal.

Dylan threw an arm around Skye. "You didn't want anything for yourself, darlin'?"

Though they had gotten a few things for the house, neither had picked up any personal items. Skye's gaze sparkled as she spoke. "No, I have everything I need right here with all of you." She wrapped her arm around Dylan and asked, "What about you?"

"Me. Nah. I don't need nothin'." He slipped a hand under her chin and lifted her lips to his. Giving her a quick kiss, he looked into her eyes. Except you is what he implied without saying a word. Skye smiled and ducked her head, laying it for a moment on his arm.

As they walked into the yard, Skye said, "Oh, hang on a minute. I want to get a couple things from the garden for breakfast." She hurried over to the mini-greenhouses and lifted the lid.

The garden was empty except for three broken plants.

Skye stared at the naked ground, dumbfounded. Then moved to the second greenhouse and lifted its lid. Nothing. Her fingers moved to her parted lips. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. All her hard work gone. How had this happened?

“Dylan, everything from our garden is gone. Could an animal have done this?”

He rushed over and scanned gardens. “No animal did this.”

“Really? Are you sure?” Her heart fell. Who would do this to someone now when food meant everything?”

Wade became silent for the first time since they left the gathering. His happy mood turning somber. "What kinda low-down snake—”

Sue Ellen stood by the garden, staring at it. "I took 'em,” she said in a flat voice.

A bolt of shock went through Skye. "Why?"

"For my music player."

"But I gave you trade goods for that."

Sue Ellen shrugged. "They didn't want them. They wanted vegetables."

Skye stared at the girl, speechless. Surely, she knew how crucial fresh food was. And they had so little of it. But she was gone or shut up in her room so much, maybe she didn’t understand. Or perhaps, she just didn’t care.

Dylan started to pace and threw flinty looks at Sue Ellen. "Have ya got no sense, girl?"

Skye held up her hands. “Dylan, I must not have explained properly. She didn’t know."

"Didn’t know what? That we need to eat? You think she doesn’t see us all strugglin' to put food on the table? The girl contributes to nothing, and then, she does this?”

Skye threw a glance at Sue Ellen. “She needed time to settle in.” The girl’s sly look didn’t escape her notice.

Dylan turned to Sue Ellen. “You’re done getting settled. Your free ride is over.”

Skye grabbed Dylan’s arm and dragged him away from the children as she nodded at Wade to follow them.

Behind them, Jesse berated his sister. “Man, you really screwed up!”

Dylan ran a hand through his hair and punched a finger toward the girl. “All this coddling and waiting for her to get used to us, and she does that.”

Skye patted his arm. “I messed up. With her losses, I thought time was needed. But she seemed to just use that for trouble. You’re right, she needs to stay busy.”

“What she needs to learn is the value of something,” Wade said. “What it takes to survive now.”

Skye nodded. “Okay, so where do we start?”

“First, she’s going to be findin’ some seed to replant your garden,” Dylan insisted. “She sure needs to learn that. It was bad enough she took the vegetables, but the plants? And for a stupid music player?”

“I can always use help cleanin’ out the gutters,” Wade said. “A little hard work will be good for the girl.”

“She isn’t going to like that,” Skye said. “But, I agree.”

Dylan crossed his arms. “I don’t like that she gave away my dinner. I ain’t done talking to her yet.”

Skye pulled on his arm. “Dylan, don’t yell at her.”

“That’s up to her.”

“Dylan.”

“The girl needs some instruction, Skye.”

“Yes, but with less volume and force.” Skye willed him to remember one of their first conversations.

Dylan snorted.

He returned to what Skye hoped was a repentant Sue Ellen. That didn’t appear to be the case. She did, however, stand quietly as Dylan laid down the law.

“You can use the music player tonight. After that, this entire garden will be replanted to Skye’s standard before listening to that music player again. After that, it will be on a day to day basis. Every morning, you will turn the player over to us. If you’ve done well, you’ll get it for the evening.”

“For how long?”

“For as long as we want.”

Sue Ellen put a hand on her hip. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s very fair. None of us play until our work is done either.”

Her lips compressed into a thin line.

Wade stepped up. “You’ll be helping me with the gutters now.”

“No, I won’t! What am I? A slave now? I thought we were friends.”

Dylan turned on his heel, a vein pulsing in his cheek.

“We are friends, girlie,” Wade explained. “That’s why I’m gonna teach you to survive.”

“I ain’t helpin’ you on that roof!”

“You are, even if I have to haul you up there. I know you ain’t gonna think so, but it’s for your own good.”

“It’ll be okay, Sue Ellen,” Skye tried to assure her. “You’ll learn a lot. I know I did.”

The girl flashed her an irate look. “Are you done yet?”

“No. I understand why you took the vegetables, though they weren’t yours to take, but why the plants.”

Sue Ellen flapped her arms. “I tried to yank the vegetables off, and the plants came with them. I didn’t know what to do with them, so I threw them off the mountain.” She took a step closer to Skye. “I know I messed up, but this seems a bit harsh.”

Behind her, Dylan made a noise of disgust and moved further away. Wade shook his head in disbelief.

Skye sucked in a breath and stayed calm. “I know it may seem that way. But with the rule Dylan set, you actually could listen to your player every day. And everyone on this mountain works now, from the smallest to the oldest. It doesn’t have to be just a chore. It can be fun.” Skye reached out and laid a hand on the girl’s shoulder only to have her jerk away. “If you have the right attitude, you’ll do fine.”

Sue Ellen promptly turned on her heel and stomped to the house.

Jesse came to stand beside Skye. “Sorry, Mom. She’s just—she’s just so dumb.”

Skye put a hand on his head. “Well, we all have to start somewhere. I was dumb too.” She laughed and shot a glance at Dylan, who only halfheartedly chuckled. “I don’t know it all yet, but at least, now I’m trying.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t know about her,” Jesse said. “She’s gettin’ more like Grandma every day.”

Skye pulled her lip between her teeth. That didn’t bode well for the future.

As they moved toward the house, Skye walked beside Dylan. “I’m surprised you allowed her to have her music player tonight.”

“I was thinkin’, then she’d know what she was missing if she didn’t cooperate.”

Skye nodded. “Good thinking. I know you don’t like to miss the reward of a beer after a long hard day.”

“I do not. Speaking of which, one of my buddies is making beer now. I got some.”

Sky giggled. “I thought you said you didn’t get anything.”

“I didn’t buy anything. The man just handed it to me. It would’ve been rude to refuse it.”

She sent him a sly glance. “Are you going to share?”

“I don’t know. How good have you been?”

“I’ve been just as good a girl as you have been a boy.”

Dylan uttered a low chuckle. “Well, now, that must have been very good indeed.”

Twenty-Five

Remembering

The next morning, Dylan was somewhat surprised when Sue Ellen came out of her room and quietly handed her player over to him. She gave it a longing look as he put it on the bookshelf.

“Soon as you've replanted the garden, you can have it back every night,” Dylan gently reminded her.

Sue Ellen nodded then went to the table for breakfast. Dylan sent Skye a raised eyebrow behind the girl’s back. Maybe she would really cooperate.

Wade planted himself in the seat across from Sue Ellen. “I talked the Smith’s this morning. They said they had some seed they’d give you. You could head on over there this morning and have the whole thing done by evening.”

Sue Ellen agreed as she buttered her toast.

“Course, they're wantin' to trade some work for it. Ms. Smith needs someone to help her with house cleaning today, so that’s what you’re trading.”

Sue Ellen stopped mid-bite and sent Wade a cold look before lowering her eyes. It took her a moment, but she shrugged. “Okay, whatever.”

Dylan’s gaze narrowed as he watched the girl over his steaming cup of coffee. There was something hard about her.

But Wade gave her a big smile. “I’ll walk ya over after breakfast, then.”

Later, as Dylan washed the dishes, Skye dried. “I think I’m going to go to my house today.”

“Okay.”

“I have some things I left behind. I’d like to see if they’re still there and bring them up here.” She met his eyes and smiled. “I left in such a hurry before, I didn't take them, but now I have time to do it.”

“You seem sad about it.”

“I am. A little. I’m not sure what condition the house is in. I keep telling myself it doesn’t matter, I live here now. But I wouldn’t like to see it torn up after all the hard work I did.”

“All right. I’ll take you down there.”

“I wasn’t sure what you were up to today. I’m sure Tom’s going if you’re busy.”

“No, I’ll take you. Jesse can help Wade today.”

Skye nodded and took his hand in hers. “Thank you.”

Dylan grunted his acknowledgment as he looked at their hands. Would he ever get used to her mannerly ways? He and Wade had hardly known what a proper manner was unless slapped in the face with it. Sometimes, all her pleases and thank you made him a little uncomfortable, but it was good for the kids. And he wanted them raised right.

As Dylan pulled into her driveway, Skye scoured the house. It didn’t look too bad. A little bit of damage here and there but definitely livable. Maybe one day, it would be safe enough to stay down here for a while.

The keys in Skye’s hand jingled as she walked up the front porch. She pushed open the door but just stood there.

It had been less than a year since she’d been in this house, and yet it seemed like forever. She steeled herself for what she knew would be a difficult day.

Dylan glanced at her, and she stepped over the threshold. The air was a bit stale but not as bad as she’d thought it would be.

Dylan soon found the reason why and pointed it out. “There’s a hole in this window here. Looks like some little critters have been gettin’ in. I can board it up for you.”

“That’d be great. And there might still be a few things in the cupboards and garage that could be of some use. If you want to check that out.”

Dylan nodded and went to work. If there was one thing that man liked, it was a mission. He’d be set for a little while.

Skye moved into the living room, walking toward the fireplace mantel. She reached for a picture in a dark metal frame, tears flooding her eyes.

Her mother, father, and brother. One of the last times they’d all been together. She plucked another one off the shelf. Bobby with his family. Had they survived? Had her brother and young niece been found? Skye choked back a sob. She would probably never know.

Wiping her eyes and hugging the pictures to her chest, she went into the kitchen for a small box she remembered leaving there.

Along the countertop were all the groceries she’d pulled from her cupboards and hadn’t had the time to pack before the horde of Sick and Infected had come. Among them was a box of blueberry iced Pop-Tarts.

This time a sob moved past her defenses, shuttering through her. Her mother had rarely let her have such processed treats, but sometimes she'd come home from school and find a box waiting for her on the counter.

She laid the two pictures in the box and added the carton of Pop-Tarts.

Skye moved through the house, gathering up photo books and knickknacks, each laden with memories. She and Dylan were making a life together up on the mountain, these things belonged up there with her.

Lastly, she walked to her bedroom. Searching through her clothing in her large walk-in closet, she found a few things that would still be useful and piled them on top of the wide dresser. After she went to the safe and pulled out all her jewelry. Some were family heirlooms her mother had given her when she’d left home. Others were items she’d bought herself. Either way, they meant something to her.

She was standing in front of a mirror, clasping a delicate gold necklace with a little heart around her neck when Dylan found her.

Confused, he glanced around the room. “What kinda room is this?”

“It’s my closet.”

“Closet? This is just about as big as our whole house.”

Skye scanned the room. It was close to the size of the cabin’s living room and kitchen. She winced. At one time, she’d thought this a small house. She smoothed the necklace as she glanced in the full-length mirror one more time. Then she walked to Dylan and put her arms around him.

“I loved this house. Now, I love yours more.”

“Ours.”

“Right. Ours.”

Dylan looked around the walk-in closet. “Dang, girl. I never even knew something like this existed.”

Skye laughed. “Believe me, there are even crazier wastes of space. But that’s not me anymore.”

“I’d build you whatever you wanted, ya know.”

“I know, but I don’t need it. It was important for me to come to get these things and mourn my family, but now it’s time to move on.”

Dylan pulled her closer, warming to her. It was exactly what he needed to hear.

Twenty-Six

Want To

The next day, Dylan woke, as he usually did, during what some would consider the night. He brewed some coffee and chewed on a piece of cold bacon leftover from yesterday’s breakfast. Then headed toward the door as Wade walked to the kitchen, yawning and scratching.

Some days the brothers went into the dark, cold mornings together. Sometimes they went their separate ways.

They didn’t need to talk about it. They just knew from the way each went about their morning. Brothers, as close as they were for as long as they were, could interpret the smallest changes in routine. It told them all they needed to know.

Today was a separate ways day. Dylan wanted to think.

He nodded at Wade’s wide grin when he gave him a quick wave goodbye. No doubt his brother knew what was on his mind.

With day breaking, he walked the trap line with good success. Not great, but good enough.

As Dylan walked home, he disturbed a flock of turkeys. Gunshots echoing through the mountains, he took down two of them. He reckoned more than one person stirred in their beds with the racket.

The sunrise was at its glory by the time he got back to the cabin, reds and oranges exploding across the sky.

Stopping at the treeline, he stared at the sky, entranced by its beauty. It reminded him of Skye in some strange way. Or maybe it was just because she was all he’d been thinking of lately.

He blew out a breath of frosty air and kicked at the hard ground a couple of times as he looked out over the view his cabin provided. The sun lit up the small, tree-covered mountain across from his, evergreens and silver-brown bark of the leafless trees sparkled. Its warmth chased away the morning chill.

He’d told himself a million times he didn’t have to do this. Had no business doing it. But something in him demanded he try, and more than that, he wanted to.

But that didn’t calm his stomach or stop his racing heart. His eyes slowly scanned the view one last time before sighing heavily and walking to the front door of the cabin.

Wade met him at the door as if he’d heard him coming, though Dylan knew he was practically soundless. Dylan handed the catch over to Wade without a word.

Wade thumped Dylan on the back. “Reckoned I’d take the kids fishin’ today.”

Dylan nodded as he watched Skye walk across the living room to the kitchen. She pulled back her dark morning-mussed hair with one hand while hiding a wide yawn with her other. Seeing the men, she stopped and gave them a little wave. Dylan smiled and nodded. She wasn’t one for morning talk, and that suited him just fine.

Everything about her suited him just fine.

After washing up, Dylan helped with breakfast. Jesse and Sue Ellen showed up once they smelled the eggs and toast. They all sat around the table, eating first in silence, then adding small talk as their bellies filled, and the coffee hit their veins.

Dylan’s gaze hardly left Skye, and she noticed. At first, she only smiled. Catching him a second time, her gaze and smile turned shy. After a third time, she bumped her shoulder into his and quietly said, “Stop!” in a half-pleading, half-flattered voice.

He leaned to her ear, whispering, “I wanna take you out to the woods today.” He enjoyed the sight of the goosebumps traveling down her arm.

She shot a questioning look at him. It wasn’t an unusual invitation, it was the delivery. It was more usual the entire group of them went. Skye lowered her gaze and nodded.

“Wear your green sweater.”

Skye’s gaze returned to him, and her brows creased in a small frown.

Dylan smirked at her. Let her stew on that. He liked that sweater because it made her eyes even greener. She’d said it was her favorite top, and she’d be happy she wore it.

Dylan slid his hand into hers as Wade announced to the kids that they were going fishing. Jesse’s face lit up. Sue Ellen was less thrilled but shrugged her acceptance. She’d had quite the stories to tell yesterday after cleaning at Smith’s. The girl would probably prefer anything to that.

Breakfast over, Dylan threw a few things into a backpack and checked his pants pocket for, at least, the tenth time that morning. It was still there, as it had been for the days and weeks before this today.

Dylan’s mouth felt dry as he waved Skye out of the house to hurry her along. His nerves had the better of him, and his muscles were so tight, he had to continually remind himself to relax.

“Dylan, what’s the hurry?”

“No hurry. Come on.”

Skye laughed as she tried to keep up. “Okay, okay.”

Once outside, Dylan shouldered his rifle and took her hand.

“Dylan, honey. Slow down.” Skye giggled. “I’m practically running to keep up with you. So, unless we aren’t going far…”

Dylan looked down and slightly behind him at her small feet as they raced beside him. He slowed, then stopped. Turning, he ran his hands along her arms a couple times as he scanned the woods, more out of nervousness than anything else. Finally looking at her face, he said, “I’m taking you somewhere special today.”

“I figured something was up. Where?”

“I don’t… I don’t have a name for it. It’s the place I go when—I don’t know—when I need to.”

A smile rivaling the sunrise lit up Skye’s face. “I would love to see it.”

She raised a hand to his cheek and stroked it, then pulled his head to hers for a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love ya too, darlin’. Now, let’s get going.”

Skye giggled. “Can I walk or am I running there?”

Dylan snorted. “I’ll slow down, you mouthy woman.”

She grabbed his arm and squeezed it as they laughed.

Except for the noises Skye made as they went through the forest, it was pretty quiet. A few birds called from time to time. Some squirrels passed the news that people had invaded their territory.

After a particularly loud crunch, Dylan reminded himself that Skye needed some more Be Quiet in the Woods lessons. She was failing miserably.

Seeing his look, as she crunched on another twig, Skye said, “Does it matter today?”

He smiled. “Nah. It doesn’t.” She couldn’t do anything wrong today.

Hopefully.

Twenty-Seven

Of Course

As they entered the old forest growth, Skye’s demeanor changed. Dylan smiled. She felt it, the same way he did.

The ancient hardwoods closed around them, offering peace and comfort. He sighed, at one with this place.

Her footsteps slowed as she took in the tall cathedral of timber. Her breath caught as her gaze traced the ancient trees from their mighty foundations to the bare-branch canopy high above.

Studying the young saplings protected by the taller trees, her face brightened.

"Oh, Dylan! It's beautiful! It's more than beautiful. I don't—I don't have the words."

"I know." He did know. Words tended to fail him anyway, but here, to describe this, he had none. To know it affected her, that she felt it too, was enough.

"This is where you go when you leave the cabin?"

Dylan scuffed his foot. He wasn't here to discuss his sour moods. "Yeah."

Skye wrapped her arms around his. "I always worry so much about you when you're gone. Now I know I don't need to. This is a safe place. It's where I'd want to go."

Dylan looked down at her. He raised his hand to run his thumb across her cheek. He'd never thought about her worrying when he was gone. "I'm safe. I'm always safe."

Skye nodded and laid her head against his shoulder.

Dylan cleared his throat. Then did it again. This was even harder than he imagined it would be. Skye raised her head to look at him, a question in her eyes.

"Darlin'." He cleared his throat one last time. "Darlin', I been—I been rough and tumble my whole life. And I ain't sure I know how to be anything else. But I'm tryin'. I'm tryin' to do better for you.”

Skye moved toward him and took his face in her hands. "Dylan, I love you just the way you are."

He nodded. He knew that. It’s why he loved her so much.

Dylan took her hands and kissed each one. "Hush now. Let me say what I gotta say."

Skye tipped her head and took a small step back but close enough to still hold hands.

Dylan looked down at their entwined fingers, then up through the canopy of trees and asked for strength. Smiling, his gaze returned to the woman in front of him. "This thing between us—I need this to be done right. I want us to be a family, and for me, that means marriage."

Losing his nerve and annoyed his accent had grown thicker, his gaze darted to the ground and stayed there. "I never thought anybody’d want me for a husband. Maybe ya don't, but I'm hoping you do. With what's goin' on between us, I thought maybe..."

When he glanced up, her sparkling eyes encouraged him. "Darlin', I want you to be mine. You're my first thought in the mornin' and my last when I lay down at night. I don't breathe without knowing you're safe and happy. And I've found I like it that way."

Dylan pressed his lips together a couple of times. "I want you beside me now, beside me for all time. I'm probably messin’ this all up. But, darlin', Skye, will you stand beside me? Call yourself mine?"

A warmth had started in Skye as she'd stepped into this place. Dylan’s place. It was special. Both because of what it was and because of what it meant to him. As Dylan spoke, the feeling continued to grow until it filled every part of her, until it seemed as if her whole body glowed.

At some point, her breath caught. She hadn't realized it until he finished speaking, and she'd opened her mouth to respond. She had no breath to answer. She gasped and rushed into his arms. "Yes, I will. I do! Of course, I want you!"

She covered his lips, his face, and his neck with tiny pecks until he put his hands on her face and brought his lips to hers for a more earnest kiss.

"I've got somethin' for you.” Dylan dug into his pocket. He pulled out a ring and slid it onto Skye's finger.

When Skye saw it, her eyes widened. It was the most beautiful ring she'd ever seen, and she had seen a lot. A large rose-cut diamond encircled by leave-shaped emeralds.

"It's beautiful,” she whispered.

"You like it?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yes! Oh, yes, Dylan, so very much. It's—it's—oh, Dylan!" Skye threw herself back into his arms.

Dylan’s chest swelled. He’d done something good.

She’d said yes. He couldn’t believe it, but she had. She meant it too. He could tell.

He picked Skye up and swung her around, enjoying her laughter as it rang through the woods. Then he carried her to a fallen tree and sat, pulling her onto his lap.

Skye snuggled her head into his neck and studied her ring. "It's just so beautiful."

"I got it from the jewelry place between here and Fenton. That day I was scavaging out that way. It was looted, but there were some rings in the back room that got missed. Had a price on it I could never afford, but I reckoned that didn't matter anymore."

Dylan took her hand to study the ring. "I liked the leaves on it. It kinda reminded me of this old grove. Like how this place has been here forever. The leaves are gone now, but they always come back. Is that stupid?"

"No, love, I understand. It is perfect."

Dylan tightened his arms around her. "Say it."

"Say what?"

Dylan tipped her face to his. "Say you’re mine."

Her eye's brightened. "I'm yours. Skye Jackson is Dylan Cole's forever.” She kissed him. “Forever."

"I'm yours, darlin'. Body, heart, and soul."

They sat staring into each other’s eyes for a moment, soaking in everything those words meant.

"Sayin' it here means more to me than anywhere else."

"I know.”

After a few minutes, Skye said, "We're getting married!"

"Yeah, well, I reckoned we already got the kids."

"And the house. Even the cranky in-law." Skye laughed. "I can't wait to tell them."

Dylan raised an eyebrow. "You wanna head back?"

Skye tightened her hold on him. "Not yet."

Dylan slid down the side of the log onto the ground and stretched his legs out in front of him, then heaved a big sigh.

Skye yelped a little as they bounced and laughed. "What’s that big sigh for?”

"I'm so glad that's done. I been workin' myself up about this for a long time now."

"Why? You didn't think I'd say yes? You had to know I would!"

"No, I didn't know for sure."

"Dylan! I tell you I love you all the time."

"Well, who knows what women are thinking? And I wanted it to be right for you. Somethin' you'd remember. I thought a lot about what I wanted to say."

"I loved it. I loved everything about your proposal."

Dylan grunted.

"What?"

"My accent is worse when I'm nervous. I try to clean it up some for you."

"What? Why?"

"You're not from the hills. You got all that book learnin'."

"Don't. I love your accent. I love the mountain man that you are." Skye scrubbed his beard stubble and pushed back his shaggy hair. "Scruffy and gruffy are apparently what I really, really like."

Dylan laughed at her. "All right, darlin'. Cause that's what you're gettin'."

Twenty-Eight

End Up

Skye couldn’t take her eyes off her ring. It was just so beautiful. Who knew Dylan has such great taste in jewelry? This ring was just so unique.

And the proposal! So him and so perfect. It has been hard to get the words out to accept over the lump in her throat.

Skye stared at Dylan’s rugged face. Who would’ve guessed they would end up together? If bets had been taken over the summer, would anyone have been game enough to lay money on them?

A bemused smile hovered on Dylan's lips. “What’s so funny?”

“I was just wondering who would’ve guessed we would end up together.”

“Me. I woulda."

“No! No way!” She widened her eyes to tease him.

“Yes, way." He gave a decisive nod. "From the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Skye tipped her head. “And when, exactly was that?”

“A warm summer day as I stood leanin’ against the drug store’s brick wall. You came out of the coffee shop. Took my breath away. After that, I stood there every time I came to town.”

Skye laughed. “What? You spied on me.”

“Oh, you betcha, darlin’. Over and over again.”

Skye lightly slapped his arm. She vaguely remembered someone in the coffee shop saying something to her. “Dylan,” she whispered, “are you…? Are you the low-down, dirty skunk?”

He raised an eyebrow, and she explained about old Mrs. McCleary's warning. “Probably.” He laughed. “I been everything else.”

“I saw you! Well, not really because you were back in the shade, but I saw you.” She laughed. “I love that. I mean, it was probably better I didn’t know it at the time. But now that I know you and everything is so right, I love it that you spied on me.”

Skye wiggled in her seat. “How are we going to do this wedding?”

“Soon.” Dylan pushed her hair back and kissed the top of her head. “I just wanna be married. How we do that is up to you. But I did ask the judge to come back to marry us.”

“You did? Oh, that was a great idea.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want this thing to drag out.”

Skye had a finger to her chin, already mulling over possibilities. “I think I’d like the whole community there. If everyone pitches in with a covered dish, it should be doable.”

“Okay, but when?”

Skye giggled. “I promise as soon as possible.”

“Tomorrow?” Dylan asked, a twinkle in his eye.

“The judge won’t even be here, and you know it. Whenever he can come back, we’ll have the wedding.”

Skye stood and held out a hand to Dylan. “Come on. I can’t wait any longer to tell them.”

Arms around each other, and heads together, they leisurely strolled to the cabin as they talked. Every so often, Dylan would raise his head to scan the area, but said he wasn’t worried. It had been weeks since any of the Sick had been this close to the community.

Even on the walk home, everything seemed perfect. A few shy deer crossed their path. Birds sang the most beautiful songs. A meandering groundhog nosed around its favorite grasses.

In such perfection, the thunderous, sharp crack of a rifle instantly stilled the forest. The echo rolled through the hills.

A bullet buzzed by as the rifle’s roar echoed back at them.

Dylan’s quick exhale stirred the back of Skye’s long hair. “It’s close!”

Dylan pushed Skye to the ground as another boom filled the air. Dylan stumbled and ducked, covering Skye. For a moment, his ragged breath fanned her neck.

Pushing her toward the trees across from them, his voice low and urgent, he said, “Go! Stay low!”

Stomach heaving in fear, Skye obeyed.

Rifle in hand, Dylan scanned the thick forest to their right. He couldn’t see anyone.

That’s where it must have come from. He scoured the area for a shadow, a glint from the sun, anything.

He put a hand on Skye’s hip, hurrying her along as she half army-crawled to the treeline. He had to get her to safety. A few more feet, and they would be there.

Dylan winced as he got into a position where he could turn and fire a shot at where the gunfire had come from.

Skye put her hands to her ears as he returned fire.

As the roar faded, she said, “Dylan! Maybe they were firing at the animals.”

“No. They weren’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know.”

The deer had scattered when they stepped into the glen. No one who knew anything about hunting would have tried for them. Most people don’t go for groundhogs when their cupboards were already full. And that shot was close. The second one closer. Whoever it was had directly shot at them on purpose.

“Dylan!”

“Skye,” he said as he raised his rifle again. “Be quiet.”

Dylan fired again and watched. Nothing moved. They may have already gone, but if not there could be more trouble ahead.

Turning to Skye, he took in her wide eyes and trembling body. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head yes as examined her to make sure. He put his hands to her face. “You’re okay, darlin’, you’re okay,” he murmured.

Dylan ran his fingers down her arms and took her cold, clammy hands in his large, warm ones. He studied them. Her light ones where almost engulfed by his darker ones. He brought them to his mouth and blew on hers, hoping to warm them. Then he tried, rather unsuccessfully, to control his breathing.

“Darlin’, you’re gonna need to go on back home now. Send Wade out here.”

“Why?” Her wide eyes looked at everything but him.

“Calm down now. I need you to be thinkin’. Go back to the house and get Wade.”

She zeroed in on him. “Why?”

“Don’t argue with me, girl, just go do what I say.”

Skye tried to focus, but her eyes, and thoughts, darted from one thing to another. Going from such happiness to this had her mind spinning. Would the gunman come back? Had they been waiting for them?

But most, importantly why did Dylan want her to leave him at a time like this? Normally, he would want her to stick close.

His last words echoed through her. Though they had been harsh, his gaze was not. They had been loving, and worried, and also filled with pain.

Panic seized her as she looked him over. “Dylan?”

“I said go.”

She yanked open his thick, red flannel jacket. A couple of buttons flew. There was a second, blue flannel below it.

Blood soaked his shirt, turning it dark. She went numb and sucked in a breath. “No!”

Twenty-Nine

Praying

Dylan ran his hand down her hair. “Don’t worry. I’ve been hurt worse’n this. Now, go get Wade.” Groaning, he stumbled back from his crouched position to his rear and sat.

Skye groaned with him. She wasn’t going to leave him here like this especially with some crazy gunman still out there. “No, I’m not—”

“Woman. Go get me help.”

Skye scanned the area. “It’s not far. You can make it. You have to try, because I’m not going to leave you. What if they are still here?”

“That’s why you should go. You’ll be quieter on your own. Keep your head down and move quiet like I’ve shown ya. Now go on.”

She knew what he was thinking, but now was not the time to worry about her safety. It was time to worry about his survival.

“Dylan.” Skye firmed her voice. “You are not hearing me. We’re partners. I’m not leaving without you. I am not.”

She took his rifle from him. “Give me some more ammo.” She took what he gave her and loaded the gun and slung it over her shoulder. “Do you think they’re still out there?”

“I think they’re gone. Pulled back anyway.”

Skye rechecked Dylan’s wound. “Then we’ve got to chance it. We can stay low enough, can’t we?”

“Should be able to.” Dylan’s face contorted as Skye helped him up. “Darlin’, I’d rather you just go.”

She sagged a bit with his weight. “You can work with or against me, but I have to say things are going to be bad for both of us if I have to drag you back home.”

Dylan snorted. “A little bitty thing like you couldn’t drag me back if ya tried.”

“Well, its a good thing I don’t have to try then.” Skye settled in under his arm.

“You know you’re the most stubborn, rebellious woman I know, don’t ya?”

Skye playfully rolled her eyes. “Yeah, look who’s talking!”

“I’m hurt. Callin’ me a woman like that.”

“Oh, ha ha.”

Dylan’s efforts to lighten the mood came to an end as he worked at moving at a decent pace and watching for trouble.

After a few minutes, Skye pulled Dylan to a stop. Blood dripped from beneath his jacket. “Wait. It’s bleeding more.”

“I know.”

“We need to check it.”

Skye pulled open his flannel and felt sick. She pointed at the closest tree. “We need to try and slow this down. Let’s lean you up against that.”

Dylan agreed. He gripped the rough tree bark and groused over how weak he was.

Her heart clenched as she looked at his pale, irritated face. “We’re almost home.”

“You should just go without me. I ain’t worth nothin’ like this. Just git.”

“Don’t be getting all growly with me. I didn’t shoot you.” She put a hand to his cheek. “And we already had this discussion.”

Dylan made an irritated sound in the back of his throat and refused to look at her.

Skye took off her sweater and t-shirt, then quickly pulled her sweater back on to ward off the chill. “I’m going to fold this up so we can use it on the wound. I should have done it already—I just wasn’t thinking.”

When she grabbed Dylan’s belt and pulled it out of the loops, he uttered a low chuckle. “Well, darlin’, if I wasn’t shot, this would be a whole different kind of outing.”

“Really? You’re injured and this is where your mind goes?” Skye shook her head.

Folding her shirt, she laid it over the injury and positioned his belt on top of it. She was just shy of the belt hole she needed to reach. She slapped Dylan lightly on his good side. “Suck it up, love. I just need to hold this shirt in place.”

Dylan snorted. “I ain’t a horse.” But tightened his stomach, anyway, loudly wincing as he did so. When Skye tightened the belt he groaned. “You are not a merciful person.”

“Mercy in this circumstance is not going to keep you going.” Skye double checked that the belt was not too tight then looked back up at him. “You okay to go on now?”

“Yeah.”

Skye tipped her head and pushed away some brush for them to continue on.

They hadn’t gone two steps onto the cabin’s yard and heard Wade yelling for the children. He ran up to them and took Dylan from Skye.

Skye slowly straightened to her full height. More than once, she’d wondered if they could make it, but they had. Barely.

“What happened?” Wade almost yelled. His worried face became more and more grave as he looked his brother over. Dylan gasped out the answer as best he could until he indicated Skye should take over.

They had made it to the porch when Jesse came out, their boots frantically scraping against its wood surface. The boy’s eyes widened and his face paled.

“It’s okay, Jesse,” Skye said. “It’ll be okay.” She looked around. “Have Sue Ellen get us some towels and you can go for the Doc.”

“She ain’t here.” Jesse’s voice cracked as he answered. “She didn’t want to go fishing. She went over to help someone.”

“Okay. It’s okay.” Skye and Jesse reached out and clung to each other when Dylan cried out in pain as Wade helped him into bed.

Wade looked Skye over. “You okay here with him?”

Skye bit her lip and nodded.

“Ya sure? You look kinda… shaky.”

She gave Jesse a tight hug and kissed him on the top of his head. She straightened. “I’m fine.”

“Okay then. Jesse and I will go for the Doc. If he’s not home, we got more’n one person looking for him.” Wade waved over at Jesse and gently said, “Stop gawkin’ and get ready. He’s going to be fine. We just need to get the Doc here and that’s our job, boy.”

Jesse practically fell to the floor as he pulled on his shoes as fast as possible. After jerking his coat from its hook on the wall, he went to Dylan, squeezed his hand, then flew back to the door.

Wade said a few words to Dylan, then came over and clapped Jesse on the back. “Good boy! Now let’s go be the heroes in this story.”

“You wish!” Dylan croaked.

Skye rushed to Dylan’s side and checked his bandage. “This bandage is soaked. You need a new one.”

Dylan agreed and helped her loosen his belt. Skye pulled away the shirt she used in the field.

Blood filled the wound as soon as she pulled the cloth away. She gasped, then steadied herself. First step, slow the bleeding.

She cut away his torn shirt to get it out of the way. Then laid a thick gaze pad on wound, and a washcloth on top of that. “I need to put pressure on it. A lot of pressure to stop it from bleeding.”

“I know, darlin’. Do what you gotta.”

Skye laid her hand on the cloth and firmly pushed. Dylan’s face paled.

Blood steadily seeped from beneath the cloth. She pushed harder, letting her upper body lean into the side of his abdomen.

Dylan groaned and squirmed.

“I’m so sorry, love,” Skye whispered, tears filling her eyes.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he managed to get out.

When the tears rolled down her cheeks, Dylan raised his hand, wincing as he did so, and wiped them. He shook his head. “No tears. Do the job.”

Skye gave him a weak smile. He was right. There was no place for emotion. She would need to be tough to save him.

She added another washcloth to Dylan’s injury. Arms at the breaking point, she put a knee to his wound and leaned in.

Dylan leaned his head back and grabbed the bedspread, clenching it. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Is it slowing?” he asked through clamped teeth.

Skye felt blood soaking the knee of her jeans. “Give it some time.”

He shook his head. He put a hand on the back of her thigh and pulled her up, adding more weight. Clenching his jaw, he stopped himself from writhing against the burning pain.

He tried to think of something else, anything else as the pounding of his heart increased. He let his gaze linger on Skye. She leaned over him, one hand on his chest and one on his good side. And a hard knee plowed into his wound.

Her body trembled. She had shaken her dark hair down so it would cover her face, but he could see enough. Her snow-white face made her lips that much redder. A small flash of white tooth could be seen deep in her lip. She was biting it so hard it would soon be bleeding.

When she let it go, a tiny trickle of blood glazed her lip. With her eyes squeezed shut, her lips formed silent words.

She was praying for him.

For some reason, this warmed Dylan’s heart more than anything else that had happened today.

The love of his life was praying for him.

Though he reckoned he’d never learned how to do this right, he sent his own rather demanding one.

You let her know I ain’t goin’ nowhere. And you help me hold to that. I wouldn’t forget somethin’ like that—I sure wouldn’t. I’d be beholden to you, and I always pay my debts.

After debating if a person said amen to their own prayers, he went ahead and said it. It couldn’t hurt.

Skye’s lips still flew. Maybe if his didn’t get heard, hers would.

As his breathing quickened and a wave of dizziness washed over him, he squeezed her leg. He needed to hang on. Stay awake for her.

Thirty

Family

Jesse and Wade raced down the trail to Doctor Kinder's house. Jesse had been down this dirt path so often he could've done it blind. But today, it seemed to take so much longer than usual. His breath came rough, and his strides jerky as his mind filled with the sight of a bloody Dylan staggering into the house.

He wiped the tears flooding eyes and tried to stop. It was stupid to cry. It never helped anything. Though Jesse was sure his mom would find some reason it did.

Jesse stuck his cold, numb hands into his jacket pockets. Seeing Dylan like that had shocked him to the core. Dylan was the rock of this family. Solid, strong.

After a dad like Frankie, having someone who was always there for him was more than Jesse could have dreamed of. It couldn't be ripped away now. It just couldn't be.

The boy didn't know exactly when he'd started thinking of Dylan as his father.

With Skye, that was easy. The day she rescued him. But Dylan had snuck up on him. First a teacher and friend, helping him learn the ways of the woods. Then more.

One day, after Jesse had bagged a rabbit, Dylan had proudly patted him on the back. He'd never had that happen before. Having a dad who was proud of him instead of looking down on him meant more to Jesse than he could express.

A tear trickled down Jesse's cheek. Dylan couldn't go away, not now. His life had just gotten good.

Wade raced ahead of him, throwing some reassuring words over his shoulder from time to time. But the boy had seen his frightened face. He wasn't fooling anyone.

Barreling down the end of the trail, Wade and Jesse startled Aaron, who stood watch.

Aaron lifted, then lowered, the rifle he'd aimed at them. "Wade?"

"It's Dylan. He's been shot. We need the doc!"

Aaron gave a sharp nod as he rushed along with them the last few steps.

Wade beat on the door. The front porch creaked as the three paced, waiting for an answer. Wade pounded the door again just as it opened. The earthy smell of baked potatoes wafted through the screen.

Paul scanned Jesse and Wade's face, then grabbed his first aid pack and slid on his shoes.

"What is it?"

"Dylan. Shot," Wade gasped out.

"Where?"

Wade indicated on his own body.

Paul nodded once. "Okay. The good news is, it could have been worse, much worse."

When Bre came up behind him, the doctor said, "Bre honey, get the surgery ready. If I can, I'll bring him back here."

Paul stepped out onto the porch. "I'll take the shortcut back with Wade and Jesse. Aaron, can you or your brother bring the ambulance around on the road?"

"Sure thing, Doc," Aaron said.

"Can you take the boy with you, Aaron?" Wade asked.

Jesse bristled. No way he was taking the long road. "No. I ain't doing that. If I get behind, just go. I'll catch up. I ain't a kid. I haven't been one for a long time now, so don't treat me like one."

Wade patted the boy and nodded. Then the three took off down the trail. Soon they were racing across the yard to the cabin and into the house.

Dylan was even paler, but he was still breathing. Skye sat in a chair by his side, head on his shoulder, and one bloody hand still pressing on the wound. Blood stained the blankets and them.

"Has the bleeding stopped?" Paul asked.

"I think so," Skye wearily replied.

“Good.” The doctor moved to Dylan's side. "You did a good job, Skye. With some rest and liquids, he'll feel better. The big thing now will be to stave off any infection."

Paul peeled back a corner of the bandage. "Looks good. You had trouble stopping it?"

"Yeah, you could say that," Dylan said with a weak voice as he grimaced. "She was practically standin' on me."

"Whatever it takes to keep you going," Paul said, picking up his stethoscope.

Everyone was quiet as he worked. Jesse glanced at Skye. She seemed to be barely standing. He made his way over and put an arm around her. She did the same, hugging him tightly.

After some mumbled conversation with Dylan, Paul turned to the rest of them. "Okay, here is what we are going to do. Aaron or Curt are bringing the ambulance. When they get here, we're going to transfer Dylan to that and get him to the surgery."

Skye and Jesse nodded, tears in their eyes. Wade mumbled, "Okay," as he crossed his arms.

Paul glanced at them, concern covering his face. "I know this looks bad, but we're going to take care of him. The bleeding has stopped so that is step one. We'll get him to surgery so we can get this taken care of, and then Dylan will be able to rest."

Jesse gave Skye a reassuring squeeze. It sounded good to him. Anything so this was over, and his family was back to normal.

Thirty-One

Waiting

The surgery seemed like hours, then days to Skye. She replayed the last moments she'd had with Dylan before shooed away over and over. Then repeatedly reassured herself that they weren't their final moments. That didn't stop the tears that refused to stop flooding her eyes.

She still felt his strong arm around her as she'd curled up against him on the small bed. Little was said besides whispered I love you's. Even those were barely choked out. Dylan tried to be strong for her but kept pulling her tighter and tighter to himself as though holding her there was keeping him alive.

Skye gripped him with everything she had. If Skye could have infused him with some of her own life force, she would have.

Their eyes locked, saying more than any words could until it was time for the surgery. Skye had somehow unglued herself from his side and walked away.

It was the hardest thing she'd ever done.

Now she waited. The others were lined up on couches and chairs in the doctor's living room. It was quiet. A sniff or a throat clearing the only sounds besides the scrape of a shoe as people fidgeted.

Skye held onto Jesse well beyond his usual tolerance for affection.

"Do you want something to eat or drink?" he asked her again.

He was right, she should have something. But she was just so numb, so frozen. "I—I just can't. But you get something."

He shook his head even as his stomach growled.

"Go ahead, Jesse. It's okay to eat. Just a couple bites of something."

When he only looked at her, she said, "If you will, I will." She gave him a weak smile as she reminded herself she needed to consider him through all this.

Jesse went to the other side of the large room. A decent-sized kitchen lined the wall with a countertop island between that side of the room and the living room side. Among the other food lined up on the counter sat a bowl of apples and a pitcher of water. He poured the two of them a glass and picked up a couple of apples.

Skye took a few bites of the apple, but her stomach was queasy. After that, she nibbled at it so Jesse would think she was making headway on it.

The boy devoured his.

"Jesse, you should have a sandwich. Kelsey said there were some fixings in the fridge."

He looked around at all the quiet, slumped over adults. "I don't wanna..."

Skye understood. He didn't understand how to act in this situation. She sent a glance at Wade. "You're a growing boy. Dylan wouldn't want you starving out here."

Wade cleared his throat and stood, pulling at his jean's waistband as he did so. "I could use a little somethin' too, boy. Let's see what's in there."

Skye mouthed a "thank you" behind Jesse's back.

Just as they reached the kitchen, a neighbor bustled through the front door. "I brought a casserole. Put it in the oven as soon as I heard. I figured it'd be a long day over here."

"Well, there we go, Jess," Wade said. "Hot food. Can't get better than that."

He grabbed a couple of plates and plopped a large spoonful onto each one. He sent a questioning look at Skye. Just about to shake her head no, she caught both Jesse and the neighbor eyeing her. "A little for me, please, Wade."

He gave a nod, gave her a half-sized portion, and sent the boy over with her plate.

When Kelsey walked down the hallway toward them, Skye tensed. She quickly put down her food and clasped her hands together.

The girl stopped at the doorway of the room and announced, “Doc is finishing up. It went well. He'll be out when he's done." Then she sat down beside Skye.

Most of Skye's tension rolled away. The quiet room came to life as people smiled and chattered in relief. It seemed as if the worse was over.

Thirty-Two

Heartbeats

Kelsey gave Skye a hug. “Paul says Dylan’s a strong one. I’m sure he’ll do fine. You were all he was thinking about before he fell asleep.”

Skye nodded. “Thanks, that means a lot. He is strong, no one would doubt that.”

Kelsey noticed Skye’s ring and lightly touched the stone. Her eyes twinkled as she winked and whispered, “Congrats! I’m so happy for you both.”

Skye startled at the reminder. The fact that no one had noticed before now revealed everyone’s state of mind. She laid her hand over her ring as hope started to warm her again. “Thank you.”

The smooth stones against her palm reminded her of the earlier part of the day—before the shooting. She smiled, then twisted the ring so only the band showed on the outside of her hand. “I think I’ll wait to announce it, though.”

“I understand. Dylan should be with you.”

Skye nodded. “Then we can really celebrate.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

Skye gave Kelsey an appreciative smile, then frowned. “Have you seen Sue Ellen? She would want to be here.”

Kelsey bit the inside of her cheek, then said, “She was here earlier, before all this, and said she was going to help a neighbor with something, but I can’t remember who.”

“I wonder if we should send someone after her.” Skye’s hands fluttered. “But I don’t even know where to start.”

“I’m sure she’s fine. As soon as she’s heard, she will come here.” Kelsey patted Skye’s hand, then looked up and caught Jesse’s eye. She mouthed, “Sue Ellen?” to him.

He tipped his head toward the side of the room, indicating she should meet him there.

“When did you see her?” Jesse asked Kelsey.

“It was early.”

Jesse shrugged and frowned. His sister had been acting up from the time Dylan and Skye had left this morning. He’d been glad she’d gone her own way today, it meant he and Wade could have a nice, quiet fishing trip. “She’s always just skating on this side of trouble. I don’t know why she can’t settle in. This place is the best she’s gonna get.”

Kelsey agreed. “I’ve tried to be friendly to her. Some days it works and some days…”

“I worried about her all ’til she got here. Now she’s safe, there’s more important things to think about than where my sister is every minute of the day—especially now.”

“I’m sorry, Jess.”

“It ain’t your fault.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I wish I had a relative left to worry about.”

“Kels, you got us.” Jesse laughed. “And believe me, you’ll have your hands full.”

Wade walked over. “I’ll go look for her.” He sighed. “I’m the one that let her go off on her own today.”

“No, Wade.” Skye put a hand on his arm to stop him. “You need to be here.”

“Me and Curt will go,” Aaron offered. “She can’t be all that far. Pry just holed up at a friend’s chatting.”

As Curt and Aaron rose to leave, the door burst open. Sue Ellen rushed into the room, her blue eyes wide with worry and blond curls askew. “Jesse? Skye? Tell me he’s okay!”

Skye quickly went to Sue Ellen’s side. “He’s fine, honey. Doc just did surgery, and he said everything went well.”

Sue Ellen fell into Skye’s arms wiping away her tears. “Oh, I was so—I’m just so glad! I heard, and I couldn’t believe it. Not Dylan. I’m just so glad everything’s okay.”

The girl rushed to her brother and hugged him. “Oh Jesse, this must’ve been so hard for you.”

Jesse put his arms around his sister and gave a half-hearted hug to her stranglehold.

When she wouldn’t let go, he pulled her arms down and mumbled a “Thanks.” Sue Ellen looked at the floor as she turned away.

Skye sat back down with Kelsey beside her. Sue Ellen walked over to stand in front of Kelsey. “Do you mind if I sit by Skye? Family and all that, ya know.”

Surprise and understanding flashed across Kelsey’s face then sadness. “Of course. Yes, please sit.”

Jesse stirred in his seat as he frowned at Sue Ellen. “Come sit by me, Kels. We’re all family here.”

Sue Ellen ignored her brother as she settled in the seat by Skye and laid her head on the woman’s shoulder.

While Skye wished Sue Ellen hadn’t said that to Kelsey of all people, she was happily surprised by the rest of Sue Ellen’s behavior. For some people, it took a tragedy to make them realize what others meant to them. Maybe Sue Ellen was one of those people. Skye wrapped her arm around the girl and picked a couple of small leaves out of her hair.

Sue Ellen gave an embarrassed little laugh. “I rushed over here so fast, I didn’t pay attention to where I was goin’.”

“It’s fine. I appreciate it. I think I got them all now.”

“Thanks.” Sue Ellen put her arm through Skye’s.

A short time later, Doctor Kinder came into the living room. “Bre and I have got him all settled in. He’s still a bit drowsy but awake. Dylan made me promise not to overdo the anesthesia. He wanted to see all of you as soon as possible.”

Skye's breathing quickened as she rose to hug Paul. “Thank you so much! We are so fortunate to have you with us.”

“I’m glad I can help. Now don’t stay too long, a few minutes, okay?”

Skye turned and headed down the hall, nodding. She would have agreed to anything.

She rushed down the hallway leading to an office, surgery, exam room, and recovery room. Those and a massive loft consisting of bedrooms for the family made this the largest house on the mountain. It had been unanimously decided Paul should live and work here. Skye turned into the last of the right, the recovery room.

At the sight of Dylan, her breath caught. If this was good, she didn’t want to see bad. With his eyes closed, his ashen face made her fear the worst. She raised a hand to her mouth as she stared at him.

The air stirred, and her scent came to him. A mixture of soap, the outdoors, and something light that was distinctly hers.

Dylan opened his eyes and stared at her, beckoning her with a twitch of his fingers.

Skye rushed to him, pulling a straight chair closer to his bed so she could put her head on his shoulder. Dylan laid his head against hers and inhaled as deeply as he could. For a moment today, he worried he might never hold her again. It had been more than he’d been able to bear. He had broken down.

Doc had comforted him. Dylan had made him swear he would wake up as soon as possible. And now here he was, and here she was. Dylan closed his eyes and smiled.

“Dad?” Jesse stood at the door. He scuffed his foot across the wood floor as he swallowed, looking anywhere but at the man in the bed.

Dylan understood. All this caring stuff could feel strange to someone like them, but it was a good kind of strange.

His chest warmed as he realized what Jesse had called him. It was starting to be a habit.

“I mean,” Jesse said, “if you don’t mind—”

Dylan beamed. “Course I don’t mind. You couldn’t please me more. I reckon that’s what we are now.” Dylan held a hand out to Jesse. “Son.” The boy rushed to him, and he scuffed Jesse’s hair then gave him a quick hug.

Sue Ellen burst into the room with Wade right behind her. She pushed past Jesse to hug Dylan without thought to his injury causing him to wince. Regardless, he hugged her back. The girl needed to feel welcome too. Her mess of curls hit him in the face, and something scratched his cheek. Dylan pulled a small bit of bramble from her hair and frowned.

Wade caught his attention as he moved in. “Hey, little brother! I’m glad to see you doin’ all right. You had me mighty worried.”

“I had myself mighty worried. I’m thankin’ the Lord I’m still moving.”

Wade nodded, slyly wiping a tear from his eye. “Me too, bro.”

Sue Ellen ran over to where Skye sat. “Tell them, Skye! Tell them now. I can’t wait any longer.”

Skye’s eyebrows creased in puzzlement before she glanced at her ring. “This isn’t really…” She looked at Dylan. “Well, everyone is here.”

Dylan shrugged. It didn’t matter to him when the news was announced. Skye gave him a sweet smile and turned the ring around on her finger, showing it off to everyone.

Jesse beamed. “Everything is perfect now!”

Wade smacked his hand on the footboard of the bed since he couldn’t thump his brother’s back. “That’s fine, that’s just real fine, is what that is.”

It wasn’t long after that when Paul came in and reminded them Dylan needed his rest. Everyone said goodbye, but when Skye reluctantly started to leave his side, Dylan’s hand tightened on hers. “You ain’t going anywhere.”

“The doctor is right. You need your rest.”

“I can rest just fine with you here.” Dylan looked at Paul. “If you think you’re kickin’ her out, you better think again.”

Paul threw up his hands in surrender. “Far be it from me to order you around. We all know who’s in charge here.”

“Dylan,” Skye said. “I do want you to get your rest.”

“Darlin’, there’s plenty of room for us both right here.”

Once Paul headed down the hallway, Skye curled up on the bed beside Dylan. She laid her hand on his chest. “It’s comforting to feel your heartbeat so steady.” She yawned and snuggled deeper into him. “I love you.”

Dylan kissed the top of her head. “I love you too, darlin’.”

“Everything is going to be fine now, love.”

He didn’t know if she was reassuring him or herself. His little glass-half-full woman. Dylan shook his head. Would she ever understand that nothing was ever really fine?

Thirty-Three

Uncle

The next morning Wade stumbled to the door as someone hammered against it. Of course, on the one day for as long as he could remember that he’d slept in, someone needed something.

It had been a long day yesterday, and he hadn’t wanted to leave Dylan’s side. But someone needed to get the kids back to the cabin and all tucked away. But after, he’d just laid there staring at the ceiling, worrying about his brother.

Yeah, it seemed like everything would be okay, but until Dylan was up and walking, Wade wouldn’t be getting much good sleep.

Whoever it was continued making a racket at the door. Wade yanked it open as he yawned and scratched his butt cheek.

Curt stood at the door, clenching his rifle. His dark eyes darting around the yard as he spoke. "Hey Wade, we got us a problem. Tom's at my place. Tricia was out in the far field at daybreak this morning lookin' for—I don't know—something. Anyway, there's some Sick down there just wanderin' around. That is entirely too close to this settlement for my taste." Curt looked at Wade’s mussed hair and shirtless torso for the first time. "Oh, man, I'm sorry. I forgot that you were up most of the night."

"No. No, it's fine." Curt had five children with a sixth on the way. One of the Sick anywhere near this mountain would be too close for comfort.

Wade crossed his arms. "If there's trouble, you ain’t gonna leave me out. Give me a minute to get dressed, and I'll walk over with you.”

Curt gave one quick nod. "Sure thing." He squinted his eyes as he looked past Wade into the darkened living room. Jesse stood at the railing of the loft. "Hey, Jesse."

"Hey, Curt." Jesse hurried down the steps and followed Wade to his room, standing in the doorway. "I wanna go with you.”

“I’m thinking that's not a good idea, kid. Dylan and Skye would have my hide for takin' you out there without discussing it first."

"We don't need a discussion. I can help. You know I can."

Wade pulled a shirt over his head. "I know that's true. And I know the times comin' where you'll be at our side, but I don't see that being today." When Jesse started to argue, Wade put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm proud, real proud, at how well you've come along. I know I ain't said that, but it's the way I feel. Last night, everything with Dylan—well, I was thinkin', there's things I need to say, and that's one of them. You're a great kid—just great."

Wade scrubbed at his eyes. "See, this is why I don't talk like this. It makes me blubber like a tiny baby."

Jesse laughed and hugged him. "Skye says it's good for us, even if we don't think it is. You're a great uncle. When things were bad, I used to dream up what kind of family I'd want, and you're exactly what I thought of."

Wade's face crumbled. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't get anything over the lump in his throat. The boy had completely undone him. He turned away and cleared his throat several times before turning back to Jesse. "Okay, enough of that kind of talk."

Jesse nodded and patted Wade on the arm.

"Look, boy, with Dylan down and Skye with him, it leaves Sue Ellen by herself." Wade lowered his voice and whispered in case she could hear, "She ain't no good at fighting or nothin'. You need to keep an eye on her. I ain't saying this 'cause she's a, you know, girl. It's just the truth."

“I know. She just isn’t getting the self-defense classes. If the Sick did make their way up here, I ain’t sure what she’d do.” Jesse made a face. “I’ll stay with her this time, but—”

"Yeah, I know. We'll put it on your ma's infernal discussion list, but don't be surprised if she hits the roof with what you're wantin' to do."

Jesse grunted. “That would be a mild reaction to what I’m expecting. But I can handle more than a weapon or too now. And it’s my responsibility to defend family too. Just like the rest of the men.”

Wade pulled his rifle onto his shoulder and picked up his bow. "What you can do is get your sister tucked up safe in here and make sure the immediate neighbors know the situation. Have one of them tell the next bunch. Then come back here. Okay?"

The boy nodded. Wade was confident he knew the drill. A communication relay had been set up so that anytime something happened, the word could quickly move through the community. So far, it had been used for news about the farmer's market, a lost cow, and a pregnancy. This would be the biggest and most important message yet. "I can do that."

"Good man. I know I'm leavin' everything in good hands." Wade smiled at Jesse, thumped him on the back and headed out the door with Curt.

If Wade couldn't have his brother, he was happy to have this man by his side. Curt was a good man, ready to fight to the death to save his family and friends. He'd already proven that on more than one occasion, most notably at the superstore when they were attacked by Gregory and his men. He'd taken a bullet and carried on defending the rest of them.

As the woods thinned, and they entered the cabin area, Wade looked from the group of men milling around in front of Aaron's cabin to the Doc's house. "Hey Curt, I think I'm gonna see D for a minute."

Curt nodded and continued on as Wade took the stairs up the Doc's porch. Bre opened the door and waved him in.

Wade turned into the open doorway of Dylan's room. He'd tried to prepare himself for his brother’s condition, but it hadn't worked. He felt sick to his stomach seeing his brother laying there like an invalid. It was a reminder of how quickly life could turn. He didn’t like it.

Wade scuffed his way across the linoleum floor to Dylan's side. He stared at his brother as he rolled his tight shoulders before he looked at Skye. Dark circles colored the delicate skin around her eyes.

"How'd he do?"

She blew out a breath. "He slept but not well. He would only eat a few bites this morning. But the Doc says it's to be expected. So I guess he's doing well."

Wade grimaced. "I'm trying real hard not to be angry at the hunter who was out there for being so irresponsible."

"No one has stepped forward yet?"

"Nope, and the longer it takes, the more bitter I'm gettin'." Wade changed the subject. “Well, before we get to tracking that person down, there’s another mess brewing. Did you hear?”

"Yes, I heard."

"I have the kids hunkered down in the cabin. Just in case. If you end up wanting them here, I'm sure someone will get them. I wasn't sure—" Wade stopped and frowned. He was never sure what the proper way to do something way in a given situation, and Skye always seemed as if she liked proper.

Skye saw his uncertainty. "That's fine, Wade. I always know they're in good hands with you."

Wade shuffled his feet and reddened a little bit. "Well, that's just fine then." He coughed. "I better get goin'. Tell him—tell him I was here."

"I will. You—all of you—be careful. We don't need anything else going wrong.”

Thirty-Four

Children

Wade grabbed the door of the truck as the vehicle lurched in and out of an unusually large pothole. Normally, he would have groused about taxes and the government not doing their job. But as far as he knew, there wasn’t enough of a government to complain about anymore. And if someone had asked him before, he would have said the best government was no government.

Well, there was no government now, and it wasn’t the paradise he’d thought it would be. Still, to his mind, there were several advantages.

He, Curt, and Aaron shared the cab of a large, white box truck. It had become pretty standard for Tom to ask someone to bring it along, and Wade agreed with Tom on this. It was better to haul the Sick off straightaway than to try to stash them somewhere and come back later.

What Wade didn’t like was being in the bouncy vehicle. He and Dylan usually drove their own vehicle. He braced his feet against the floor and stiffened as they headed over yet another bump so he wouldn’t flop against Aaron.

More than his own vehicle, he wanted his brother here.

He and Dylan worked so well together, speaking was almost unnecessary. Working with anyone else, especially going to battle with anyone else, felt like entering the fight with two broken legs. It wasn’t that it couldn’t be done, but it wouldn’t be done well. And Wade was unsure how to go about it.

Sighing loudly, Wade ran a hand down his green flannel jacket, staring at the snowy forests and hills running past the windows. He’d get through it somehow.

When the group arrived at the field, they parked the vehicles and jumped out, feet thumping against the cold, hard ground as they did so.

The air was bitter and sharp on this grey morning, and an eerie tranquility hung over the land. There were no Sick in sight. Just an empty field with thin wire fencing surrounding it. The wind blew at the powdered snow that lay here and there.

Tom gathered the men around him. “The horde must have moved since this morning. Well, our tracker’s down, as you all know. Anyone else able to take a stab at it?”

“I’ll take a crack,” Wade said, “and take anyone willing to help. I know I’m just a greenhorn next to Dylan, but I’ll do my best.” He scanned the area. “Sure do wish there were more than a few patches of snow, though, instead of all this hard ground.”

Wade had a couple of volunteers. Joe, Dylan’s friend, and Hershel Ray, who had moved up from Colton after he had lost all of his family. The three moved across the field, examining the ground and brush for any compressions, scrapes, and if they were fortunate, threads or bits of clothing. The rest of the group walked the road with binoculars.

Joe pointed out a small mark that could be a scuff, but a group of Sick would leave more sign than that. The men decided to circle the field.

“Ya know,” Joe said, “this is close to where Dylan got shot.”

Wade nodded his head. “Yeah, the thought had occurred.”

“Probably right on the other side of that treeline. We should check it out when this is done. Maybe somethin’ there will tell us who did this.”

“Nothin’ I’d like better.”

Thinking of the shooting, Wade looked over the field again. It was a good walk from the cabin. Most people thought it was a careless hunter, but he wasn’t so sure.

Someone would have had to follow Dylan and Skye all the way to the deep woods, then backtrack and wait for them, choosing the best place from which to attack. There wasn’t a clear trail cut from the cabin to Dylan’s spot in the old growth.

None of that seemed like a spur of the moment decision.

And, while he was thinking on it, what had Tricia been doing all the way out here this morning anyway?

He stuffed all that way back in his mind, in an area that could've been named Can’t Do Nothin’ About That Right Now Anyways. Then he went back to work.

Hershel Ray crouched to get a closer look at the ground. “Ya know what I think,” he said. “I think we’re real bad at this.”

“Yeah,” Joe said. “We suck.”

“Yep,” Wade said. “And I don’t know if it’s good or bad that we know it.”

Wade’s eye lit on a tiny pink thread caught on a short bramble mixed among some tall grass. He pointed at it, and the three rushed to it. The little strand fluttered in a small burst of wind like a flag trying to draw their attention.

“Look!” Joe said his arm extended to the woods. Wade cursed, and Hershel sighed.

There was no question now where the Sick had gone. The trail was wide and clear with trampled grass and scuffed snow. They had gone straight into the woods.

“Why,” Wade complained, “do they always go and do that? It’s not like they can think straight. It’s harder to catch them in the woods than to pick fly dung out of a batch of pepper. Just once couldn’t they line up real nice at the road like passengers at a bus stop?”

On the other side of the field, the rest of the men waited. Hershel Ray waved them over before the three turned toward the forest. The frozen grass crunched under their boots, making it sound as if they marched on glass.

Wade peered into the dark woods, trying to see down the Sick’s trail. He blew out a breath, steeled himself, and walked forward.

After reaching the arch of the trees, they moved through the hushed forest. It seemed empty, deserted of humans or animals. But then, up ahead was a flash of pink. Wade’s heart sank as he pointed it out to Tom and waved them all down.

They were children.

While the men sat on their heels, Tom reminded them Tricia had seen nine Sick, but she hadn’t mentioned little ones. It seemed she hadn't seen the entire horde.

More than one man hung his head, shaking it back and forth.

Wade ran a hand down his face as his gut turned.

He’d dealt with the Sick plenty of times, but not many children. When he had, nightmares plagued him.

This disease’s entire course was sad and disturbing but never more so than when dealing with young children.

Thirty-Five

Tears

Wade surveyed the scene with a heavy heart. He hated seeing kids like this. Some people had a soft spot for dogs or cats or cars. His was children. One day, he hoped for his own big bunch of the little critters.

To see these, like this, was almost more than he could bear. He shook his head and looked at the ground. But it wasn’t like he could ignore the situation.

Wade examined the woods beyond the kids. Tricia had seen adults. Where had they gone?

Most of the time, Sick kids were with a group that included what Wade had always assumed were their parents. It’d given him some ease thinking that at least the family was together even if it was in this condition.

But that wasn’t the case here. Wade pegged the oldest around fourteen or so, and the youngest around six. They should have been running and squealing in delight rather than wandering aimlessly, silently with those vacant expressions.

He shuddered.

Most of the tiny Sick had at least one hardened, unwieldy limb. Some pulled a leg along, causing an odd, haltering limp. Others had an arm hanging uselessly alongside their small bodies. Bloody drool dripped in thin ribbons from their open mouths.

Wade scanned the children’s blue-tipped fingers and lips. At least their suffering would soon be over. Maybe, just maybe, the Containment Center would be able to ease their last days.

Scratching his scruffy cheek, he surveyed the down-hearted men. Wade was sure every one of them would rather be anywhere but here. But they had a job, and they better get to it.

His throat ached as he got the men’s attention and gave instructions to make their way to the other side of the Sick children. If they could herd the Sick back into the field, it wouldn’t be that much further to the cargo truck.

Once they got into position, they shook the brush and made low noises to herd the children in the direction they wanted. The children clung to each other, whimpering, but moved toward the edge of the forest.

The men left their cover, moving into the open. The children lurched toward them, growling—their expressions angry and wild. The men tightened their half-circle, raising their arms.

Some of the little ones created a tight ball in the middle, but others ran for freedom.

Wade took off after the oldest. A boy, almost as tall as him, but skinny—with none of his bulk. Clearly, the kid has been slim before the AgFlu. Now he was all bones.

Though he didn’t have a full-blown case yet, he ran awkwardly on his long, thin legs, and Wade easily caught up with him.

The boy swiped at him, and he jumped back. When the boy sprinted off, Wade regained lost ground and tackled him.

The boy fell face-down onto the grass with a huff and a groan. He clawed at the cold dirt and grass, trying to drag himself out from under Wade. Before the sick boy took a second breath, Wade had zip-tied his hands together.

“No!” the kid howled.

Wade's mouth fell open. Not again. Usually, their speech was gone by now.

He turned the boy to face him, ignoring his snapping teeth and the smell of his rancid breath. Gripping his hair, he held the boy still and stared into the boy’s eyes. Was someone still in there?

The boy was vicious, but his eyes held regret. And after a moment of struggle, he relaxed a bit.

He locked eyes with Wade and, in a guttural voice, said, “I tried to save them.”

“I know you did, son.” Wade put a hand to his shoulder.

Wade and the boy shared a moment before the disease had its way. The kid’s muscles tightened again, and he thrashed, attempting to rip Wade’s flesh. His heart sank. This may be the last time the kid would make a human connection.

Gently, Wade pushed the boy away from him. It was the disease talking, not the kid.

Something in him twisted, and he grieved for the boy.

He would want to forget this day and likely, never would. It would have been easier to believe all reason was gone at this point than to know they were still in there fighting, but powerless to stop what was happening.

“It’s okay, boy. We’re gonna get you help. You and all the others.”

The kid only snarled and snapped. Wade hoped on some level he understood.

Looking around, he saw things were well in hand. Most of the Sick were being loaded into the cargo truck. He was the straggler.

“Come on. You’re okay now.”

After loading the boy, Wade stared at the pitiful sight of the Sick children. His heart grew heavier.

He tried to imagine them without the disease but that was worse because he saw only terrorized children.

“It’s okay,” he said in a feeble effort to comfort them.

The children growled and wailed, and the other men looked confused.

“It’s okay. I know you’re scared, but it’s going to be okay. You don’t have to be roamin’ in the woods anymore. We’re gonna get you help.”

Wade rolled down the box truck’s rear door and jumped into the front seat with Tom. “I’d like to see this one through, if that’s okay with you, Tom.”

“Sure, I could use the company. I think the other men are going to come and scavenge out that way as we go anyway.”

Wade nodded, then looked out the truck window as Tom started the vehicle. “He talked to me, Tom. He knows. He’s aware of what’s happenin’ around him. This is the second time. There was a man and woman that Dylan and I found in the woods and now this.”

“Yeah,” Tom said, his voice hesitant and disheartened.

“They said that wasn’t possible when the disease was this far gone. Wasn’t possible. That’s what they said." Wade ground his teeth. "They lied.”

“Yeah, they did.”

“Ya knew?” Wade sent Tom a scathing look. “You didn’t tell us?”

“I figured it out, just like you. I was just as shocked. What good would it’ve done you to know? It doesn’t change anything. We got to do what we got to do, or we all die.”

Wade blew out a long sigh. “I guess. At least, they’ll be getting some help.”

Tom was silent for a moment. “You haven’t seen where they're keepin’ them, have you?”

Wade slowly shook his head.

Tom looked at him before letting his gaze trail to the truck floor. “It’s not a place where people get much help, Wade. You better prepare yourself.”

His heart fell, and Wade wished he could leap from the vehicle.

Something out of corner of his eye caused him to turn and look through the glass into the truck's hold.

A small girl stood there, her long, brown hair in knots, and her clothing ripped in several places.

Dirty and defeated, she slowly slid down the sidewall of the vehicle onto the floor. Blue fingertips covered her downturned mouth.

Wade’s heart broke as he watched the tears slipping down her small face.

Thirty-Six

Dreams

Skye couldn't stop laughing as she coaxed Dylan to eat another spoonful of vanilla pudding. It wobbled on the spoon in time with her giggles. "Really, Dylan, vanilla pudding is where you draw the line after all the gross things I've seen you eat?"

"It tastes like plastic." He pushed away her hands that held the little plastic cup and spoon. "I'd rather eat roadkill."

"Now that is disgusting! Doc says you need to eat. Kelsey is making something better, but this is what we've got right now."

Sue Ellen popped her head in the door. "I could make up some beef broth. Would that be good?"

"A whole lot better than this bland, milky stuff," Dylan said as he waved her off. "Go make it, the quicker, the better."

Sue Ellen giggled. "Yes, sir."

"Thank you!" Skye called after her.

Sue Ellen had been here, helping out with so many small chores Skye could hardly number them. Skye turned to Dylan. "It's nice to see her so engaged with the family."

"Yeah, she's doin' her share for once."

"Dylan. She is a traumatized young girl. It's expected that she would need time to get settled."

"I'm going to be traumatized before she's done."

Skye pushed on his arm and hushed him. "She's trying."

Dylan snorted.

"Well, just remember, Mister. It wasn't long ago I felt the same about you."

"I doubt it. You always had your eye on me."

"Yeah, well, not always the way you’re thinking. At first, I just thought you were a bossy, arrogant, man-child who liked his own way entirely too much."

"Stop mouthin' me, woman, and get over here." Dylan pulled a smiling Skye to himself.

He kissed the top of her head. "She's coming along, and Jesse's doing well. We've got food, clothing, and shelter. Soon, I'll be healed up and back to work. I was worried for a minute there, but barring any further disasters, we'll get to spring okay, darlin'."

Giving up on the pudding, she set it on the bedside table and laid her head on Dylan's shoulder. For the first time in days, she truly relaxed. Soon, she was drifting off to sleep.

In her dream, it was a beautiful, breezy summer day, and the entire family was on their way to the farm market. Excitement filled Skye.

At the entrance, a massive sign shouted the name in large blinking letters, an arrow with old-fashioned cascading light bulbs pointing to it. Sue Ellen's Exchange.

As they passed under it, Sue Ellen turned to Skye and laughed.

The smell of sizzling meat and vegetables filled the air, and one ambitious neighbor served pizza. Skye breathed deep, pulling in the aroma and watched as Jesse eagerly downed a slice before leaving them to roam the market.

Then, Skye and Dylan sat in red Adirondack chairs, plates of steaming food piled high. They held hands, and his callused fingers caressed hers.

The sun dipped low on the horizon, hitting Skye across the eyes. It was the perfect evening.

Something tugged on her light green shirt. She swatted at it. Whatever it was, she didn't want to be disturbed.

It tugged again.

Skye looked down. Her shirt changed color from green to brilliant orange.

Her eyes widened, and her heart plummeted. Quickly, she raised her head.

The sun, market, people, Dylan. Everything was gone.

Skye pushed herself to her feet, turning.

She stood in a black void. Alone.

Skye woke with a start, caught somewhere between her dream and the real world, her sweaty hand clenching Dylan's blue t-shirt. Her thumping heart vibrated against her chest. Eyes darting around the room, she reassured herself that the horrible nothingness had only been a nightmare.

Frowning, she looked up at Dylan. It was unusual that he wouldn't have felt her startle.

Skye pushed herself up, examining Dylan's flushed face, and raising a hand to his forehead. It felt like fire.

"Dylan?"

He groaned as he peeked through his heavy eyelids.

She cupped his cheek, anxiety taking hold. "Dylan?"

"Not feeling so great, Darlin'."

Tears welled in her eyes. She gave his forehead a quick kiss and whispered more to herself than him, "It's okay. It's going to be okay." She ran to the door. "Doc! Doc! We need you!"

Paul rushed in and examined Dylan, his frown deepening. When he peeled back the bandage on the bullet wound even Skye could tell that it was seeping and slightly inflamed.

Skye bit the inside of her lip. Infection. Always a worry with open wounds, especially since the loss of hospital facilities.

Paul looked at each of them. "It looks like we're dealing with a bit of infection. In the past, this small change wouldn't have been worrisome, but now, we need to take this very seriously."

Skye swallowed hard. "What do we do?"

"We can use some compresses, over-the-counter meds, and I've been trying out some vitamins and herbs."

After taming her quivering stomach, she asked, "But what about antibiotics? Surely, there are some around. It would knock this thing right out of him."

Paul ran a hand over his face as he and Dylan exchanged a look.

Dylan snorted. "There are no antibiotics in the camp, darlin'. Doc ran out a few days ago, and I was all set for a run to get them before this happened."

"What?" Skye searched Paul's face. "Tell me this isn't true!"

Paul shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"But this other treatment," she asked, "what is its success rate next to antibiotics?"

"Well," Paul said, "it's surprisingly good. I've been using it to save on other medicines, but I haven't used it on any injury as serious as this."

"What have you used it on?" As he answered, Skye's hand closed on Dylan's.

"For the most part, it's been small cuts, but a few more major ones, and I have had decent results."

"Decent?" She tried to stop her voice from sounding shrill. "Decent isn't enough, not at all. Where are the antibiotics?"

The men again exchanged a look.

"See, darlin', that's the thing. We've scavenged all there is in this area. I was gonna have to try further out."

Skye's voice dropped to a whisper as she asked, "We don't even know where it is?"

"Darlin'—"

"Please, don't darlin' me. We need to do something about this." She raised Dylan's hand and kissed it. "This is life and death." Her voice broke. "Yours. We need to have a plan, not a decent one, a good one. A better than good one."

"Skye's right," Paul agreed. "We need a better plan. I'm confident enough in this treatment and Dylan's strength to try it for twenty-four hours. If the wound shows no sign of improvement, or it gets worse, someone will have to go for medicine."

Skye frowned. "But what are we waiting for? To go for them will take time. Send someone now."

"Dar—Skye," Dylan said. "The scavenging group is gone, they went along with the others to clear out those Sick Tricia saw."

Skye had forgotten about that, and the reminder jarred her. Dylan needed antibiotics now. Who knew when the scavengers would be back?

She brought her hand to her mouth. "No," she whispered.

Dylan ran a hand over her dark hair with a worried expression. "It's okay. We'll try this out, and if it doesn't work, they'll be back, and Wade'll get the meds. It'll be all right."

Skye stood, facing Paul. "Okay. In the meantime, tell me what to do. I'll do whatever you need."

Paul waved Skye toward the brightly lit hallway to the exam room where he kept extra medical supplies. He hoped this worked. It would be, by far, the most severe wound he had used with this treatment.

He glanced at Skye. What he hadn’t told her and Dylan was that the men clearing the Sick had sent back a messenger to tell them the group was not coming home right away. While some took the Sick to the Containment Center, the others would scavenge. Paul hoped they would find some antibiotics, then the problem would be solved. But medicines could be hard to find.

There weren’t enough experienced scavengers left in the camp to send. And each person was needed here. The sparsely protected town couldn’t be thinned out even further. Each lookout was crucial.

Paul pursed his lips as he ran Dylan's treatment through his mind. Twenty-four hours. That's all the time he'd give it.

That's all he could give it if he wanted Dylan to survive.

Thirty-Seven

Baked

Sue Ellen peeked around the door into the room where Dylan rested. She tried to ignore the panic hovering on Skye's face and let her foot scrape against the floor.

When Skye looked up, she said, "Mrs. Gilmore sent over some bread for you with one of the Watch. Do you and Dylan want any?"

The Watch had quickly begun to be used by many as more than protection. When everything was calm, it transformed into a kind of delivery system.

Nodding, Skye said, "Yes, I'd love some, and a slice for Dylan too. He may like it when he wakes up."

Sue Ellen looked at Dylan's sallow face and bit her lip, then turned for the kitchen. She gathered up her curly hair as she went tying it up into a ponytail.

In the kitchen, she cut two slices of bread. After a bit of hesitation, she cut two more.

The loaf of bread had still been hot when Joe had cheerfully brought it in. He tweaked Sue Ellen's nose, and she had giggled because that’s what he expected her to do. Joe laughed back, never seeing the look of dislike covering the girl's face as she turned away.

She patiently waited as Joe headed back to see Dylan. When his visit was over, Sue Ellen's gaze followed Joe as he left through the front door. His head down, he didn't say anything to her.

The instant he was gone, Sue Ellen ran to the steaming bread. She salivated as she cut through the flaky crust to the fluffy, light interior. She ran a finger along the white softness, pulling it off the crust and stuffing it in her mouth.

Cutting herself a thick slice, she loaded it with butter. After watching the pale-yellow, homemade goodness liquify and ease into the chewy fibers of the bread, she stuffed the whole piece in her mouth as fast as she could.

It tasted amazing. So Sue Ellen peeked down the hallway and made sure the coast was clear, then sliced off another piece and another, enjoying the chewy goodness until the loaf was half gone.

As she sighed, the girl buttered Skye and Dylan a piece each, setting two for herself to the side. The bread was barely warm now, but she reckoned by the time she delivered Skye's pieces, the butter would be melted on hers.

Sue Ellen grabbed two glasses of water, congratulating herself that she’d thought of them, and took everything to Dylan’s room. Then she rushed back to the kitchen. Just as she’d anticipated, the butter was melted. She put the slices on a plate and sat in the large, stuffed recliner in the corner of the nature-themed living room and pulled a blanket over her outstretched legs.

She patted her tight, extended stomach. Would she be able to fit in the last two pieces?

As she happily munched on them, she wondered how Mrs. Gilmore was doing.

The old woman adored Sue Ellen, and the girl wasn't about to let such adoration go by without some benefit.

She patted her hair. For as long as she could remember, her wild, blond curls and large blue eyes were as natural a weapon for her as Dylan's bow was for him. She used them as often and as expertly as she could.

Sue Ellen stopped by Mrs. Gilmore's regularly, receiving treats in the form of baked goods every time she did so just for looking like the cute young teen she was.

What surprised her was that she was beginning to like the old woman. She’d even volunteered to do some chores for her. If she wasn't careful, Skye’s perky helpfulness was going to wear off on her.

It was sad how many relatives Mrs. Gilmore had lost, even if Sue Ellen’s patience wore thin when the old lady went on and on about it.

But Mrs. Gilmore’s daughter, Georgia, was nice enough, and her grandson, Travis… well, now every glimpse of him was a good one.

Mrs. Gilmore’s neighbors were interesting. Annette and whatever his name was. A little weird, but Sue Ellen liked watching weird.

The story was that Annette and the man had been passing through Colton, and the on-duty deputy had sent them up here.

But something about them seemed off. The man had been inside more than out at first, except when he was spying on other people. Just when Sue Ellen had been about to blow the whistle on them, she’d spotted the guy outside looking just fine and minding his own business.

The sound of someone whistling brought Sue Ellen back to the present. She paused mid-bite.

Paul walked into the kitchen, his gaze falling on the little bit of bread still left.

"Umm," he said, "I thought I smelled something delicious. Someone send this over for Dylan?"

Sue Ellen clamped her teeth down on her mouthful of bread and nodded her head.

"Boy, he and Skye must have loved it. It's almost gone."

The girl quickly nodded again, sure she was found out.

Paul sucked part of his lip behind his teeth, making a small sound as he stared at the bread heel. "Think they'll mind?"

Sue Ellen swallowed. "Nope, not at all." She gave him a big smile and made her eyes as bright as she could.

Paul returned her smile and cut himself a slice. He buttered it and whistled as he went back to his office.

Sue Ellen got up, looked at what was left, and pouted. It was only the hard crusty end. The girl crossed her arms, then went back and flopped back into her chair.

Maybe if she visited Mrs. Gilmore tomorrow, the old woman would make her cookies.

As if she were able to hear Sue Ellen's thoughts, Mrs. Gilmore smiled. She hummed as she slid another tray loaded with small bits of cookie dough into her cabin's oven. She hoped her electricity would last until she had this last batch through. Baking post-apocalypse could be tricky.

Some people used their solar panels for shows, movies and such, but not her. She used hers for baking. A good, solid book in her hands was better than any of those newer garish programs anyway. And Lord knew, there were plenty of books. The sheriffs and deputies brought up armfuls from the library every week.

The old woman fussed over the chocolate chip cookies. They were light on the chips. Chocolate was getting harder to come by these days. Much of it had been left untended during all the chaos and had bloomed from the heat. And she suspected that a lot of it had just gone willy-nilly down the gullets of many. A little chocolate went a long way toward calming stressed people.

As she pulled another successful tray of cookies out of the oven, Mrs. Gilmore heard the door of the house across the glen slam shut. She peered outside, trying to see through the early evening gloom and an approaching storm bending trees.

The man was out, pulling the porch furniture closer to the house.

Mrs. Gilmore thought about opening her front door and waving, but the two of them had never said more than three words to her.

Annette had introduced herself, but not the man, and that was about it. The two of them had a knack for ignoring people.

It irritated her. That wasn’t the way to treat others. At least not on Cole’s Mountain. Maybe they were from a city. New York even. Everyone knew that city was downright unfriendly to one another.

She straightened and sniffed, biting into one of her warm cookies. The light crunch of the caramel-colored outside, the lightly gooey center, and the liquid chocolate told her she had been successful in creating another perfect batch of cookies. She packed the delicious little treats away into several containers, marking each with the names of the people they would go to tomorrow.

After that was done, Mrs. Gilmore slid into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. It was going to be a cold night, she could tell. It might even snow. She went from her aching right side to her less achy left. Snuggling down into the soft mattress, she was soon uttering a low, soft snore, which continued until just after daybreak.

It was the scream that woke her.

Thirty-Eight

Evil

The ear-piercing cry ended on a long, drawn-out wail. Birds startled and dashed away.

Mrs. Gilmore had heard sounds like that before. A loved one was lost.

She dressed as fast as her creaky bones would allow, which wasn't fast at all. But eventually, heart palpitating, lungs begging for air, she opened her front door and scurried to her neighbor's house to help in whatever way she could.

The lights were on in the cabin across the way. For Annette to waste electricity in almost the dead of the night meant things must be grim.

Mrs. Gilmore shot a look at a tiny clapboard cabin to her left. Someone from the Watch stayed there each night.

The door stood ajar. Through the open entry sat a recliner and an open book laying haphazardly on the floor as if thrown.

Good. Whoever was on duty was already with Annette.

She grabbed the stair railing on her neighbor's porch and pulled her arthritic body up the three steps to the top. A loud snap in the trees stopped her. For a moment, she stared into the inky woods before hurrying to the door. An icy shiver ran down her spine as she reached for the silver front door handle and looked again in the direction the sound had come.

Mrs. Gilmore knocked, giving three short raps. When no one came to the door, she walked in.

Inside, Annette wept, uttering lengthy groans and gasps. In an instant, Mrs. Gilmore was transported to the day she'd lost her own dear husband. The sharp ache sliced through her heart almost as fresh as the day he died.

However standoffish Annette had been in the past, Mrs. Gilmore could certainly understand this emotion. "Hello?" She hesitated just a moment in her neighbor's spare, neat living room. They hadn't brought much with them. It made the room seem much larger than her rather over-decorated one even though they were about the same size.

She avoided looking to her right and suddenly realized why. Her subconscious had already taken in the gruesome scene and was trying to protect her from it.

Her gaze dropped to the floor, and she inched it over the fine hardwood boards, closer and closer to the two tan club chairs.

Someone gasped and sped toward her. It was Mark, one of the most diligent of the Watch. "Mrs. Gilmore, you don't need to be here."

She nodded her head but only turned her gaze to Annette.

The weeping woman sat in one of the chairs with her face in her hands and her shoulders shaking.

"I heard—," Mrs. Gilmore said. "I heard—Oh my, how terrible!"

It all rushed to her. The twin to Annette's chair held the man. Unlike the woman's chair, his had a multi-colored footstool where his feet, encased in dark brown hiking boots, were propped.

She followed his jean-encased legs to the hands on his lap. Swallowing hard, she stared.

The man's hands curved like bird claws, at complete odds with his seemingly relaxed lower body. They were not blue, as she had worried they would be, but deeper, darker. Almost black.

One glance at his face, and she stepped back, ready to flee.

"Come on," Mark said. "I'll get you home."

But now that she had really seen the dead man, she couldn't look away.

His face matched his black hands. Not the lovely shades that nature had bestowed on her fellow humans, but something sickly and abnormal.

Black lips pulled back over white teeth in a death grimace, but it was his eyes that truly frightened her. Opened wide, as if he witnessed a more terrifying scene than himself, and what should have been the light color of his eyes was no longer white.

His eyes bulged from their sockets. Every vessel exploded. Any healthy color had been shoved from them and replaced with a bright blood-red.

Mrs. Gilmore gasped, shaking her head. What had happened to this man?

Later, as a quaking Mrs. Gilmore sat on the porch, her arms wrapped around the mourning Annette, she tried to pretend she never saw him. But it didn't help. What she'd seen in that house would never leave her.

Inside, the doctor examined the man Annette called Ethan.

"I should have insisted he see the doctor," Annette murmured. "He said he always gets a cold this time of year. It's a little harder for him to get over because of his asthma. But I never thought—I didn't think he was in danger of anything. It didn't seem that bad."

Mrs. Gilmore patted the woman's back but kept her mouth shut. This seemed way more than some cold or allergy gone wrong. This was something evil.

Thirty-Nine

Disease

"There's nothing you could have done," Paul assured Annette as he pondered the disease. He wasn't sure he would have caught anything odd. Annette said he'd had a cold with minimal coughing, and that he'd seemed better the last couple of days.

His first instinct is that it was not a disease, but since the outbreak of the AgFlu, Paul tried not to assume anything.

Annette seemed as if someone had done this. But how, he didn't know.

From the dead man's posture and face, it was if he'd woke just as he failed to pull in a final breath. This had been fast, lightning fast.

It was odd. Something he'd never seen before. He chewed his lip as he contemplated the next course of action. It was best to be safe and treat it as a disease.

Paul got up from beside Ethan's blackened body and looked out the front door. Mrs. Gilmore and Annette leaned against each other on the porch's wooden stairs. Neither of the women seemed sick, but a simple exam would be in order after they took care of Ethan.

Paul sat down beside the grieving woman and took her hand. "I'm sorry, Annette."

She nodded her head as she held her mouth in a firm line, trying to hold back the sobs.

"Annette, you've been places I haven't been. Have you seen anything like this before? Maybe before you got here? Or heard of one similar to it? I don't know if this is contagious or not."

The woman pushed back some of her graying hair that had fallen forward over her shoulder and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Doc, but I haven't."

"Did he have the AgFlu?"

"A light case of it. Ethan said he spent a few days in bed, but then felt right as rain." Annette shot a look at Paul, then Mrs. Gilmore. "We weren't anything but friends. We met on the road, we each had families of our own then." She bowed her head. "I can't. I can't talk about that right now, but we lost them, lost them all running from Infected until there were only the two of us. We were so happy to find this place. I can't even tell you how happy. I know we stuck to ourselves, but we'd been through so much. We were just licking our wounds for a while before we became sociable."

Annette put a hand to her mouth as she sobbed. "I feel so alone. Like I've lost all of them all over again. There is just me now." Her head dropped to her knees. Paul and Mrs. Gilmore put a hand on her back to comfort her.

Tears swam in Mrs. Gilmore's eyes as she patted her. "You're not alone, Annette, dear. We are all here with you."

"We'll need to have his service as soon as possible," Paul reminded her. Although most cremations happened soon after death since the AgFlu, he was anxious to have this one over with in case it was an infectious disease.

"I understand, Doc."

Word traveled through the community, and soon Mark and Paul had help as they built a funeral pyre of spicy, sweet-smelling red cedar. Once the sheet-wrapped body was laid on it, they lit the wood and stepped back beside Annette and Mrs. Gilmore.

The scent of cedar filled the mountaintop, drawing others to the little glen, and the line of people standing at the treeline grew. Paul said a few words for the man, adding that he hoped to get to know him one day. Annette spoke a bit about the kind of man he was, caring, loved by his family, a great dad to his children.

After she was done, the doctor got the attention of the crowd. "One more thing I’d like to mention. This was something I'm not familiar with. Please, make sure to see me with any cold or flu."

Everyone seemed to shudder before drifting off, some in groups, some alone.

Paul understood. He hadn't stopped quaking, himself.

Forty

Argument

Jesse walked from the funeral toward Doc’s place. His head down and his fists shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans, he could feel his heart like a heavy weight in his chest.

Dylan had sent for him. He knew what that meant. His new dad was worried he wasn’t going to make it. The little infection had gotten worse.

He clenched his fists tighter. Dylan was going to make it even if Jesse had to go out there himself and get the antibiotics.

His dad would say he couldn’t handle it, that Skye couldn’t handle it. But he was wrong—they could.

And they’d have to since Wade and the others weren’t back yet.

Squaring his shoulders, Jesse readied himself for the fight. Dylan would go for them. He’d go to his death for them. And they would do the same for him.

He threw open Doc’s front door and strode into the house. And came to a sudden halt when he saw Kelsey.

His face turned red even as he berated himself. It was stupid, she was his friend, that was it. They were too young and the world was too crazy to worry about anything else. But his feelings didn’t match up with his brain.

Kelsey made it worse when she rushed over and hugged him. "I'm so sorry about Dylan, Jesse! Paul is trying as hard as he can to cure him."

Jesse allowed the quick squeeze, then took a sharp step backward. Nodding, he found himself tongue-tied and shook his head. This wasn't the time for this kind of stuff.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

Kelsey grabbed his hand and led him down the hallway to Dylan's room. At the door, she quietly said, "I'll be in the kitchen if anyone needs anything." Then she made her way back the way she came, her steps light on the old wood floor.

Jesse stood for a moment staring at Dylan, his throat caught, and his heart pounding. This was not the Dylan he knew. The man was so ill he hardly looked like himself. His color was off and sweat poured from him. He barely opened his eyes when Jesse came to the door.

He rushed to Skye and pulled her into his arms. "Mom!"

Skye instantly broke. She held Jesse tight, her tears soaking the shoulder of his flannel as sobs racked her body. He gave her a minute, but only one.

"Mom, he needs medicine. Look at him."

"I know, Jesse. But Wade’s group is still gone taking care of those Sick. We thought they would be back by now, but Joe said they went scavenging. We’re not sure when they’ll be back.” Skye's spread her hands out in the air in a gesture of helplessness.

"Then we need to go."

"He made me promise I wouldn't."

"I don't care, Mom, he doesn't get a say. Look at him! Are we just going to sit here and watch him die? ‘Cause I ain't doin' that. I ain't."

"I can't either. We are running out of time. It's been twelve hours since Doc started this treatment, and nothing is better. I don’t want to wait any longer.”

Skye ran a cold cloth over Dylan's face and forehead. He groaned in appreciation but didn't open his eyes. "When Doc gets here, we will talk to him. I want to make sure someone is here with Dylan at all times."

"Okay." Jesse impatiently tapped his finger against his jean-covered knee.

When they heard Paul come into the house, they met him in the hallway.

"I'm concerned," Paul agreed. "He isn't responding as I had hoped."

"We gotta go, Mom. We gotta get him the meds.”

"No! You ain't going anywhere," Dylan said loud enough they could hear. "I didn't spend all this time keeping you alive for you to go off and get yourselves killed. You promised me, Skye. Ya promised."

Skye walked to him and took his hand. "I know, love, but I can't—I just can't—Please don't ask me to sit here and do nothing as you waste away. I—I—" She crumpled beside the bed, her head laying on his arm as she wept.

Dylan winced and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he gave Paul a sharp look. "What are my chances, then?"

Paul shook his head. “I wish I could say good. But you aren’t responding to this treatment. We need to get this infection stopped as soon as possible.”

Dylan closed his eyes for a moment, then waved Jesse over.

"It ain't fair, Dad. You gotta let us go,” Jesse protested.

"I want you safe."

"We want you alive." Jesse tipped his head at Skye. "She won't be the same if we lose ya."

"She'll get over me. I ain't all that much."

Jesse scoffed and stared at him, "She'll live. She'll live for me. But don't ever think Skye will get over ya ‘cause she won't. And you know it."

Dylan brushed a light hand over Skye’s back. “I can't leave this earth knowing you two are out there putting yourselves in danger."

Jesse sighed. "Dad, I'm not givin' you a choice. I'm going. She's going if I have to drag her because of this stupid promise you made her give ya. We can do this. We saved ourselves on the road against those three, and again beside the store, she saved me. We've gone on countless other scavenging trips. You've trained us well, let us do our job."

Dylan groaned with indecision. "When did you get to be such a man?"

"You taught me."

Dylan looked at Paul. “Who's left to send with them?"

Skye’s head popped up, and she said, “Reed and Spencer said they’d go. And Wade can come after us as soon as he gets here.”

Dylan put his hand to Skye's face. “I’m too weak to put up with all this arguing, darlin’. I don’t want you to go, but I don’t want you to deal with me dying either.” He sighed. “I don’t want to deal with me dying.”

He pulled her closer and gently kissed her forehead. "Go. You can go, but I'll have a lot of instructions for you.”

Skye sagged with relief. “I have no doubt that there will be reams of them.”

Paul excused himself to inform Reed and Spencer of the trip.

Dylan sent Jesse to the other side of the room for a pen and paper, then pulling at Skye, he gruffly said, "Come here."

Skye laid down beside him, and they wrapped themselves around each other.

She laid her face against his shirt, inhaling his scent, then tipped her face up to his. "Don't think it escaped my notice that I sat here and begged you for twelve stinking hours to let me go for medicine, which you vehemently denied. Then your boy shows up, and with a few words, totally changes your mind."

The corner of his lip curled. "I'm in a weakened condition, woman. What can I say? I haven't the power to argue anymore."

"Well, I will remember this and use Jesse to my advantage whenever necessary. I thought I was stubborn, but the two of you give it a whole new meaning."

"Darlin', you are stubborn enough. You had me worn down to a little nub. The boy just finished the job. Now stop talking and let me enjoy these last few minutes with ya."

"Pfft. You're enjoying them just fine. My smart mouth is half the reason you love me."

Dylan looked at her full rosy lips curved in a teasing smile. "Well, ya got that right, darlin'. You sure got that right."

Jesse tiptoed from the room. Instructions could wait a few more moments.

Forty-One

Tough

As soon as Dylan gave all the instructions and warnings that he could think of, he dropped off into a deep sleep. She stared down at him, praying he would live through this, praying he would again roam the woods and come home to her with the sharp scent of pine clinging to him.

Would she ever again wake to the snap of bacon and eggs and him teasing her that she’d slept too long? Would he stand sure and strong beside her as they faced the challenges of this leftover world?

A sob escaped her. Would this be the last time she would see him?

Her hands flew to her mouth. She had to stop this—get her mind in gear so that Dylan had a chance at life.

She squared her shaking shoulders and dropped her hands, tightening them into fists. She could do this—she would do this. He would be fine.

Skye smoothed his hair back, a gesture that would surely have wakened him if he was well, but now he barely stirred.

Leaning over him, she whispered, "I love you. You are everything to me." Then she gently kissed his lips.

Straightening, she allowed her eyes to linger over him one more time. Then, like a soldier, she turned and walked from the room, determined not to look back.

In the living room, Jesse prepared for the trip, packing a bag with food and water along with a couple of other items that would come in handy if they didn’t make it home tonight.

The boy knew what he was doing, and she could only thank the Cole brothers for that.

"Where's Doc?" Skye asked him.

"Outside," Jesse said. "What weapons do you want to take?"

Skye winced. This was the part she hated. Carrying the knife Dylan gave her was one thing, but more than that made her feel—she wasn't sure how it made her feel, but she didn't like it. Though when logic prevailed, she knew that to stay alive, she needed to be prepared.

"Whatever you think we need is fine." He knew just as much as she did about that sort of thing, maybe more.

Jesse gestured to a small pile of weapons he’d put on the floor beside the couch. Skye crouched, sitting on her heels as she sorted through them. She picked a handgun, which she shoved into her back jeans pocket, and slung a rifle over her shoulder. She loaded ammo into her pockets and a backpack Jesse had prepared for her.

"We'll put the rest in the car," she said.

Jesse nodded and shot a look down the hallway.

"Go say goodbye, if you'd like," Skye said. "I'm going to find the men."

She longingly watched Jesse head to Dylan's room but ignored her heart’s plea for one more glimpse of her fiancé. Instead, she marched out the front door.

Spencer, Reed, and Doc stood in the clearing to the right of the house. Skye didn't know Spencer and Reed well, but Dylan had worked with them in the Watch and said they were solid men that he could trust with his family. She stepped off the porch and walked over to go over details.

"I didn't want to get into this in front of Dylan,” the doctor said. “But something has happened."

Skye's stomach sank.

"There was an odd death,” he continued. “It was the man that lived with Annette across from Mrs. Gilmore. I'm not sure if it was a disease or if it is contagious, but I haven’t taken any chances. I thought you should know.”

"You don't know what it is?" Skye asked.

"No, I haven’t seen anything like it before. Ethan died quickly, very quickly like his throat just closed up."

“And if it wasn’t a disease?” Skye asked.

“Then someone did this to him.”

Skye stepped back. This on top of everything else? “People need to be on the lookout. Just in case.”

Paul seemed surprised. “You think someone here would do this?”

She ran a hand across her forehead. “I hope not. But right now, I don’t know what to think. It’s best to be prepared for anything.”

“You’re right. I’ll make sure to let some key people know.”

“And Paul,” Skye said. “I’m not trying to take over or anything, but it would probably be a good idea to see who could be added to the Watch until the others come back. Anyone is better than no one.”

“Good idea. I’ll put Joe in charge of that. And you be careful too.” Paul threw out his arm. “In case it was someone out there.”

"We will,” Skye said with a sharp nod. She turned to Reed and Spencer. “Are the vehicles ready?"

"Yes, ma'am," Spencer said. "I picked a couple from the carpool that had just been serviced and fueled them up. Unless you wanted to take your own?"

"I'm sure what you picked out was fine," Skye said. Taking the unowned cars brought up from town would save wear and tear on her own vehicle.

"Jesse is saying goodbye to Dylan. He's got some things that need to go in the car, then we will be ready to go."

"I was thinking," Paul said. "If you're okay with it, Kelsey should go. I've been teaching her about medication. There are so many names for the antibiotics, she could be helpful, and she could pick up some other much-needed items. She can take care of herself, and probably a few of you all too."

Skye agreed. After discussing what the girl had been through before the doctor had found her, Skye was fully aware of just how tough Kelsey was. "That's a good idea, Doc."

He chuckled. “Good, because I told her to get her stuff together.”

Jesse came out of Dylan's room, rubbing his shirtsleeve across his weepy eyes and collided with Kelsey.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"No problem, Jesse, it's fine."

Jesse scanned the girl and the pack she carried. "Are you goin’ with us?"

"Yeah. Paul thought I could be helpful finding the meds. I hope that is okay."

She eyed Jesse. He had a crush on her—anyone could see it. But they’d been friends since she’d made it here and she didn’t want to lose that.

Jesse's face flared red as he hurried to the door. "Come on, then. Don’t be so slow,” he said gruffly.

Kelsey smiled to herself. He didn’t sound as mean as he thought he did.

She waved goodbye to Paul as she followed Jesse to the cars.

Spencer and Reed sat in one vehicle. Jesse piled into Skye’s truck, and Kelsey hiked into its back seat.

Through the rearview mirror, Kelsey looked at Skye. The woman had been a mess an hour ago. But now, after a quick, sad glance at Doc’s cabin, she firmed her jaw and kept her eyes on the road as she started the car.

Jesse’s mom was strong. Kelsey admired that. She hoped one day to be as tough as she was.

Forty-Two

Memories

Since Dylan had scavenged most of the closest stores for medical supplies, the only place left was the Super Walmart. As Skye drove, her stomach tensed tighter and tighter at the thought of going near the place even though she knew Gregory and his people were no longer there.

What if someone else was?

She tried to push the bad memories away, hoping the stone weight in her middle would disappear. She was safe. Jesse was safe.

Shuddering, she imagined the monster the boy might have become if Calvin had taken him. It was unbearable to think of Jesse like that.

The boy looked at her, seeming to pick up on her emotion. “It'll be okay, Mom."

"Yep." She sent him a weak smile.

"No one should be there. Gregory and his men were all taken to the detainment center."

"It's been a while since anyone's been to this store. We need to be careful, keep our eyes open."

Jesse chuckled. "You sound like Dad."

"That list he gave us!" Skye laughed. "But he's right. We need to watch for all that. The thing is it will take all five of us to do his job."

“Yeah. I’ve been learning everything I can, but there are a lot of things he does he isn’t even aware of. I’m trying to pick up on those things too.”

“You’re doing a great job. You’re more like him every day.”

Jesse settled back in his seat, a smile on his face.

"This seems like the best place," Skye said. “Between the superstore and the medical place beside it, they should have everything we need. I just hate going in there."

"I know. Worrying about Dad is bad enough. But it’ll be okay.”

Skye bit the inside of her cheek. It was time to push away emotion and focus on the job.

This was how she managed her anxiety now, other than the occasional pill. Definitely, not a strategy she would’ve recommended before. But now, it was about survival now, not emotional comfort, and she did what she had to do.

Her hands tightened on the wheel until her knuckles whitened. She took several deep breaths as she straightened in her seat as they rounded the last bend to the store. Now it was time to save Dylan.

The five of them stood at the same overlook she, Dylan, Wade, and Jesse had months earlier. The store looked quiet, just as silent as it seemed the last time.

Remnants of their battle could be seen. Skye's shot-up blue Jeep, a couple of discarded weapons, even old bloodstains on the pavement. Skye shuddered.

"Looks good," Reed said. "Let's head down."

"No," Skye said. "Let's give it a bit more time."

"It's fine. The wind's whistlin’ through the place like it's a ghost town."

Reed and Spencer turned to head toward their car.

"No! Get back here. We take our time. We do what Dylan said."

Reed and Spencer exchanged a look as Kelsey and Jesse stifled laughter. No question to who was in charge now. After Skye sent them one more hard look, she hunkered down and peered at the store.

When Reed and Spencer returned, she explained, "Last time we thought we were alone too. Then they caught us as we came back outside. I don't want any surprises today."

The men nodded. “I forgot you’d been here before,” Spencer said. “You’re right. No sense in rushing down there.”

Skye wanted to get the medicine, and race back to Doc’s. But if something went wrong, the antibiotics wouldn’t get to Dylan. It was worth the time it would take to make sure the store was empty.

Skye stationed Kelsey where she could use binoculars to look for any sign of movement. Mother and son set off to the right, and Reed and Spencer to the left. When they all met back, the area was declared safe.

“Okay,” Skye said. “We go in slow. Park as close to the doors as possible. We go into the Medical store first since it’s smaller.” She looked at each one of them. "We are here for one thing. Medicine. First, for Dylan. Second, anything on Kelsey's list. We do not deviate from that. The only other thing I will allow is any needed item you see on the aisle as you walk to the pharmacy area. We get in. We get out. Does everyone understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am.”

The group’s agreement gave Skye a sense of satisfaction. Her grandfather had been a leader of men. It was nice to know a few of his qualities had been passed on to her.

He’d seen it in her, even though she had disagreed. Her fingers instinctively touched the diamond bangle bracelet around her wrist as she remembered his words when he gave it to her.

“Skye, little lady. My blood runs through your veins, thick and red. You are fierce, hard as diamonds when you need to be, just like me. You just can't see it yet, but you will one day. The hardships you endure today will strengthen you. Direct them in the right way. Show those hard little troubles how to build a wall to protect yourself then invite everyone you love to stand behind it with you."

It hadn’t been the first time he'd given her expensive jewelry, but this would be the gift that became most precious. Her grandfather had smoothed her dark hair as they stared at the shimmering bracelet sitting in the black velvet box.

“You’re as beautiful as they are and as tough, granddaughter. Remember that. You can cry and moan and mourn, but you remember that wall. It is what will keep you upright."

Inside the car, Skye fired the ignition and moved her foot to the gas.

It is time to make Grandpa proud.

Forty-Three

Every Minute

Skye led the two-car procession into the Super Walmart’s parking lot. The air was tense. They all seemed to be holding their breath. Did Reed and Spencer feel the same way as they followed in their own car?

Tires crunched over small twigs and leaves as they slowly moved forward. She kept her gaze straight ahead, refusing to look to her right, where the shoot-out had taken place.

The store was already falling into disrepair. Gutters hung at bizarre angles from the top of the roof. One of the metal pieces swung on the soft breeze, creating a high-pitched screeching noise. The large windowpanes looked foggy. And in some corners, leaves were piled high, some almost knee-deep. Others swirled across the parking lots like tiny tumbleweeds.

The eerie half-complete statue of a man still towered over them, screaming at the world’s callousness. But a few more chunks of its limbs now lay on the ground.

Kelsey eyed the statue as they passed under it, much as Skye had the first time she had seen it, her eyes wide and her mouth agape.

"It's something, isn't it?" Skye said.

"Yeah, kinda spooky."

Jesse harrumphed. "Kinda weird is what I say. Who has time to do that? They should be spendin’ their time finding food. It's a better use of it."

Skye smiled. "If someone has things so figured out that they have time to spend on art, more power to them."

"Well," said Jesse. “They ain’t here. Guess they didn't have the time they thought they had."

The sound of Kelsey's stifled laughter came from the back seat. When Jesse glanced back at her, they exchanged an amused look.

The sunlight glinted off Skye’s engagement ring and warmed her heart. After sending Dylan a silent 'I love you', she pushed any thought of him deep into the back of her mind.

Taking her ring off, she handed it to Jesse. "Can you stick this into that little-zippered pocket inside your jacket? I don't have anywhere safe to put it, and I don't want anything to happen to it."

Jesse took it from her. After huffing on it and rubbing it against his t-shirt, he carefully shoved it in his inside pocket and made sure the zipper was all the way closed. "There. Safe and sound."

Skye sent him a grateful look. "I'm sure it is."

As they got closer to the medical store, Skye swallowed, trying to help her dry throat.

Skye stopped the car in front of the medical store and took a deep breath.

"Remember, please remember, everything I said,” she told Jesse and Kelsey. “Hopefully, this goes without a hitch, and all the warnings were for nothing, but I don't know what I would do if something happened to you two."

"Don't worry, Mom, we will," Jesse said as Kelsey nodded her head in agreement.

Skye shot a look toward the heavens and murmured, "Please let us find what we need to save Dylan."

Jesse, hearing her small plea, whispered, "Amen."

Skye reached out and squeezed his hand. "Okay, here we go then."

All three doors opened at the same time as they jumped out of the vehicle. Spencer and Reed followed.

Skye pulled open the front door of the store. A small bell jingled against the glass.

She stepped back as the stench of death walloped her. Practically tasting it, she pulled her shirt up over her nose and continued despite the coughs coming from the others.

Skye headed down the main aisle toward the back of the store. Kelsey and Reed took the one to her left. Jesse and Spencer the one to her right.

The shelves at the end held shampoo, something the community always needed. Skye ran an arm over the ledge as she walked, scooping as many bottles as she could into a large bag she carried.

After Spencer grabbed a buggy, Jesse loaded it with as much toilet paper as it would hold. Reed grabbed shaving supplies, and Kelsey blushed as she quickly swept women’s supplies into her bag.

When they reached the pharmacy, they all hopped the small half-door separating them from more pills than they had seen in a while. Skye and Jesse grinned. Surely there would be antibiotics for Dylan.

The aroma of death was thicker here. Skye walked past the small pharmacy rows to the end.

She came to a sudden standstill, her hand covering her mouth. Leaning against the wall, a dead man sat. He clutched a gun that was useless to him now.

Blood covered the middle of his body in two places. He was decaying. If the smell hadn't told her that, the look of him would have. And small animals had been at him.

Skye wanted to walk away, but her feet were rooted as if she were glued there, staring at him.

Her stomach jerked, and her breakfast started to come up. She found the closest corner and vomited. It was one of Gregory’s gang. He must have crawled in here to die. She shot another look at the man. We did that.

She pushed herself away from the wall and straightened. That isn't what Dylan would say. He would say the attackers had done it to themselves, and he would be right.

Skye got herself together and went back to the others. Their large bags were almost full. Good. Whatever they didn’t use themselves could be traded with other communities.

When the last item was bagged, Skye let out a breath. Now they just needed to make it to the cars and go home.

After reaching the front door, she peeked around the corner. Seeing it was safe, she rushed to the car, popping the trunk as she went. They threw their bags into the trunk and jumped into the vehicle, banging their doors shut behind them.

Skye scanned the parking lot. Still empty. As far as she was concerned, they couldn’t get out of here soon enough.

Once they were on the hilly road home, Skye eyed Kelsey in the rearview mirror. "Tell me we did it."

Kelsey beamed. "We did it! We have enough meds to cure the whole town."

Relief flooded through Skye so strongly she felt numb as Jesse whooped and pumped his arm.

Skye wiped away happy tears when the superstore faded from her mirror as she rounded the mountain.

Only an hour more, and Dylan would have his medicine.

She looked at the clock. Every minute counted.

Forty-Four

Mountainside

Skye wound the car around the second of the mountain's curves and pulled in a quick breath. Jesse and Kelsey gasped then the car was silent except for the hum of the engine.

Ahead two sedans barricaded the road. Skye's shoulders became hard as rocks as she stared at the blue and green cars.

Skye slammed her foot on the brake and looked in her rearview mirror. Reed and Spencer jolted to a stop behind her. Scanning the narrow road, she saw nothing but a steep tree-lined drop off on one side and the sheer side of a hill on the other.

She sifted through options as fast as she could, hardly aware of her decision until she threw the car into reverse.

Behind her, Reed did the same, flooring it. When his tires spun and squealed in protest, she murmured, “Go. Go, go, go.”

She threw one more glance at the empty cars in front of her and followed Reed.

Who were these people? No one good. That was sure.

Skye pressed down the sob swelling in her throat.

The clash and screech of metal on metal reverberated through the mountain. Skye sweaty hands tightened on the steering wheel.

"Mom, look!" Jesse said.

A third car had come up behind Reed. He had crashed into it. Now, he pushed it toward the side of the road, toward the drop-off.

Reed’s jaw was set as he slowly gained ground. It was clear he was determined to send that car tumbling end over end.

Spencer sat in the driver's seat, peering up the mountain. His strong hands gripped his shotgun. If the men’s sheer will could save them, they already had these intruders beat.

Anger flared in Skye, heating her chest. Wasn't life hard enough without people pulling this kind of crap? What is wrong with them?

Reed almost had the car at the edge, but his momentum was slowing. There was a small space between them and the side of the hill. Spencer's hand shot out of the car window and waved Skye around.

They couldn't make it, not yet. But if Reed was able to push them just a little more, Skye's car might just be able to squeeze through the narrow opening.

"Okay, here we go, kids. Hang on."

Skye laid a heavy foot on the gas. Metal squeaked and squealed on metal.

"Go! Just go!" Spencer yelled as they passed their car.

"Spencer." Skye didn't want to desert them.

"You have the kids and the meds. Go!"

Skye nodded and kept her gaze on the road. She was almost free.

Two trucks squealed around the corner, revving their engines and blocking Skye’s way.

Her heart dropped.

Skye turned to the kids. Jesse and Kelsey's pale faces looked back. She put a hand to her forehead. What to do now?

The pack of medicines caught her eye. She grabbed it and glanced around them. The enemy only had three drivers.

“Jesse! Kelsey! Take this pack and run down the mountain. Make your way home.”

Jesse squared his shoulders. "Mom—"

"Jesse. You have to go now!” She pushed the medicine into his arms. “This needs to get to Dylan for him to survive. And I don't want Kelsey here. I need you to do this. I have Spencer and Reed. Okay?"

Jesse's face twisted for a moment before he clamped his lips together, quickly getting himself under control. "Okay."

"Once I know you’re safe, I'll follow."

"Okay." He grabbed the straps of the pack, his knuckles white. He looked at Kelsey. "Ready?"

"Ready." Her voice was shaky, but she gave a sharp nod.

Skye reached out and squeezed his hand. "I love you, Jesse. You've got this."

He squeezed back. "Me too, Ma."

Then he was gone.

The kids scrabbled a few steps, then bent low as they neared the car Reed had almost pushed off the road.

When they were at the slope, a man's voice echoed through the hills. "Stop! Stop right there, or we will shoot you."

The three drivers left their cars, each holding a gun trained on Jesse and Kelsey.

The two instantly straightened and held shaking hands high.

Heart in her throat, Skye slid her handgun into the back of her jeans, covering it with her sweatshirt. Then she stepped out of the car.

When she caught Jesse's eye, he tipped his head toward the woods. Skye understood. He had tossed the backpack there. She nodded.

Behind her, feet crunched over the forest’s dry leaves and twigs. She whipped around.

Eight men and women emerged, all armed, and stepped onto the road behind her car. A chill ran through her. She rushed to Jesse and Kelsey, standing in front of them.

One man broke off from the group.

In a different world, Skye would have thought him a father. Short and carrying extra weight around the middle, one expected him to be leading a child or two. Instead, two buff army-types stood alongside him.

Skye’s gaze darted back to the leader. At least, the man's round face held a pleasant look, jovial even.

"I'm Jack," he said. "I want to apologize for this—I really do. But I have no choice. My family has to eat. They have to be safe. I do whatever necessary to keep them that way."

Two of Jack's group broke off and herded Reed and Spencer toward Skye.

"Hello, Jack,” she said. “I’m Skye. These are my children, Jesse and Kelsey. And my friends, Reed and Spencer." Skye cleared her throat. "I understand. These are unusual times, and I feel the same way. I hope we can come to some sort of agreement."

"Oh, we will. But you aren't going to like it."

Forty-Five

My Girl

Skye looked at the pavement and shook her head. Why? Why did people have to be like this? Lifting her head to eye Jack, she said, "We don't have to be enemies."

"That's what I say," he said. "I always say that. But the reality is some people are going to be your enemies."

"You want to stay alive. I can help you with that. I can trade." Skye ran her hand across the top of her head. "Take everything we have. Just let us go."

"What's to stop me from taking everything you have and doing what I want with you anyway?”

"Decency. There has to be some left in this world."

Jack barked out a laugh. "Have you seen much?"

"Yes. I have. People still help other people,” Skye insisted.

Jack shifted his feet. "You could say that what I'm doing is helping other people."

His body language told her differently. Skye stared at Jack before turning her gaze to the forest behind him.

"No, really." Jack settled himself against the hood of one of the cars. "See, I'm just out here looking for volunteers. Do you want to volunteer?"

Skye whipped her gaze back to him and barked, "For what?" She felt like a too-tight piano wire waiting for that one note to play before it sprung. She put her arms around Kelsey and Jesse, standing on each side of her, to remind her to stay calm.

"There's this group of scientists. They are trying to find a cure for this thing, and they need volunteers. People who had the AgFlu and got over it. Or those who know they were exposed and never got it. Those are rare, though. Do you know anyone like that?"

"No."

Jack spread out his arms. "Oh, come on. Everyone knows someone like that."

"I don't."

When her arms tightened around the kids, Jack noticed. He flicked a look at Spencer and Reed, who stood behind Skye. "How about them? Seems you really like those kids, so how about you give me those men?"

"That wouldn't be them volunteering, that would be you kidnapping."

"Nevertheless, I'll take them."

"I don't know their situation with the AgFlu even if I was contemplating handing them over."

Reed spoke up. "We never had it—were never exposed. We kept to our cabin until the worse was over in our area."

Skye nodded. That was true of many of the mountain's inhabitants.

Jack sighed. "Then, it's got to be you or one of the kids."

"It will not," Skye said as she, Jesse, and Kelsey tensed and straightened.

"Look around you.” Jack chuckled. “What are you going to do?"

Skye's voice held a dark edge. "I'll die before I let you take any of us."

"Well, that would sure be a waste." Jack slapped his hands on his legs. "At least, if you come with me, you'll be helping someone. Come on now. Let's not make this more than it has to be."

Skye stood resolute, her mind searching for any possibility of escape. When the men raised their weapons, a shudder went through her. She felt sick as she loosened her grip on the children to step forward.

But Jesse pulled away first, taking a few steps toward Jack. "Take me. Leave them be, and I'll go with you."

The breath left Skye. "No! No. Jesse hasn't been infected or exposed." She told the truth as far as she knew it.

Jack ignored her and nodded his head to his goons. They moved in on Jesse.

"That's okay," Jack said. "We have a volunteer." He walked to his car door and opened it, taking out a small case. "We can make sure he has been exposed."

A deep scream made its way through Skye. "No! No! Take me. I'll go. Just leave him. Leave him!"

Skye raced toward Jesse only to have her way blocked by Jack's men. When she tried to push past them, they grabbed her and held her back.

Behind her, Spencer and Reed advanced only to be driven to the ground and held at gunpoint. When they resisted, the guards bashed them with their weapons.

Jesse didn't move an inch until two of the men marched him over to Jack. When he stood in front of the leader, he asked, "If I do this, will you let my mom go?"

"Yes, I will, son." Jack pulled a vial out of his case. "You are very brave."

Skye's eyes flooded. "Oh, Jesse," she whispered, "no."

Jack motioned the goons away and Jesse closer. The boy slowly took the few steps toward him. Jack reached out and spun Jesse around, so the boy's back was to him. Then he wrapped a thick arm around his neck. "Sorry about this, but you wouldn't believe the number of people that renege on their word once things are in motion."

Jesse's jaw clenched. Though he stood tall, he was still a head shorter than Jack.

Skye twisted in her captor's hands, yelling as she bartered herself for her son. "I'll go with you! I've been exposed. I had it and got over it. Leave him! Please just leave him!"

Jack twisted the cap on a vial.

Skye hung between the men. She had given up all hope until she saw a blur of blue and pink shoot by her.

One minute she was ramrod straight, the next she was running. Kelsey didn’t know what started her feet moving, but she knew she had to help save Jesse.

She knew how to run. Years in track had taught her that. But she was small, and there were big men between her and him.

Surprise was on her side. Once she pushed through the men, she launched herself at Jack and hoped for the best.

Jesse's eyes widened as he saw her coming, and he threw an elbow deep into Jack's gut. The man huffed and bent over. Kelsey landed on top of him and knocked him to the ground.

Unopened, the vial dropped to the ground and rolled under the car.

"Run!" Kelsey shouted at Jesse. When he started to argue, she said, "This is all I can do. Save your dad! Then come save us!”

Jack's people scrambled for their guns. Jesse's face contorted, but he ran to the other side of the road and slid down the hill, grabbing the pack as he went. Skye fell to the ground between the two guards, her chest heaving.

Jack pushed Kelsey off him and stood.

She swallowed a few times. "You don't want him. I’m the one you're looking for. My entire family died from the AgFlu. I spent days in the hospital with hundreds of Infected and Sick, including my boyfriend. I laid against my Infected mother, breathing the same breath, and prayed to get sick. Then I dragged her body to her grave. I have been exposed so many times, and I never even sniffed."

Skye hung her head, tears running down her face.

Jack clapped his hands. "A goldmine. That's what you are. Thank you for volunteering. I will take you at your word and not give you the serum.”

Kelsey opened the door to Jack's car and slipped inside.

Jack turned and looked at Skye. "And you, Mother? What are you going to do?"

The force of what she’d done rolled through Kelsey, and a chill crept through her. She'd be alone again, all alone, without the care of her new family. Her hands shook, and she tightened them into fists to stop them from trembling. Fear gripped her, and she searched for the only comfort she had left.

She locked eyes with Skye.

Skye stood and yanked her arms from the men who held them. She squared her shoulders.

"I will be going with my girl."

Forty-Six

Wrong

Wade tapped his fingers on the box truck's steering wheel and wiggled down into his seat as he shot a look at Aaron. The man was slumped down with his head back and eyes closed.

Aaron was mad at him. They all were, and he didn't like it. But, dang it, something felt wrong.

And whatever bothered him wasn’t on this road. His brother had been doing okay when he’d left. Was he still?

It had been a couple of days since they left the mountain. After gathering up those Sick, they had trucked them out to the Containment Center like Tom wanted.

But that place. Wade didn't even want to think about it. But what were they supposed to do? This was what was set up for the Sick. The leftover ragtag military was doing their best, taking care of this terrible problem. And they had assured Wade this was one of the better containment areas.

Wade ran a hand over his face. It wasn’t like he could do any better by those Sick kids. At least, he’d personally talked to the doctor at the Containment Center. He had assured Wade he would give them medication to ease their suffering until it ended permanently.

The face of that sad little girl drifted into his mind until he forced it out. It didn’t do any good to dwell on her.

The truck’s right side dropped into and climbed out of a massive pothole, causing the two by fours in the back to clank and shuffle.

At least, the rest of them couldn’t complain Wade had kept them from good scavenging. It hadn’t taken much searching before they’d found the motherlode—an untouched lumberyard. With all the repairs and additions happening on Cole’s Mountain, it would be used quickly. Tom had even made a note of it so they could come back and load up again.

The somber mood that had hung over the group since the Containment Center lightened as the men had loaded up on lumber, nails, flooring, paint, and more. They’d even found livestock feed to help get the animals through the winter.

In high spirits, the men had taken a vote. Carry on scavenging or head home.

Almost every hand raised to carry on, except Wade’s. They had all stared at him in silence.

“We got enough,” Wade said. “Ain’t likely to find anything else this good, and if so, we ain’t got enough room on the vehicles for it anyways.”

“We’re on a roll here,” Joe said. “Don’t break it.”

“Look, I feel bad going against the group like this, but it’s been long enough. We need to get back.”

“It’s hardly been two days.”

“A lot can happen in two days. We’ve got loved ones back there.”

“What are you saying?” Tom asked.

“A vote was taken. If you all want to stay out here, that’s fine. I’m goin’ back. I need to see Dylan.”

Tom eyed him. “You’re right. Two days is long enough. Let’s head back.”

The group had uttered a groan even if they did understand Wade’s desire to make sure his brother was doing well. Wade was relieved when the trucks were pointed toward home.

Wade slid a hand into the front pocket of his green plaid shirt and drew out a small vial.

They had taken a minute to check out the field where the Sick children had been found. He and Joe had been right. Whoever had shot Dylan had traveled through there and hunkered down at the far edge of the field.

The two of them searched the area the best they could. They had expected to find bullet casings, but instead had found this.

Wade gave it a little shake. The little bit of clear liquid left in it swished from one side to the other.

What was it? And why was it in the middle of their field? What did this have to do with Dylan’s shooting?

Something just didn’t feel right, though he couldn’t put his finger on it.

It was like when he was in the woods, and all the little critters went quiet, but he didn't know what was up yet.

Was it something just little critters should be worried about? Or something that should be worrying him too?

Every time he looked at this thing, the feeling came sneaking back.

All he knew was that it was strange. And he didn’t like strange on his mountain.

The minute the truck barreled around the last curve and he saw Cole’s Mountain, Wade sagged in relief. They were close now.

His respite didn’t last long. The vial he’d found had started questions and that had restarted his worry over Dylan. Wade’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. He needed to get back home.

His already lead foot weighed heavier on the gas until he screeched around the mountain curves, sending gravel into the air with each turn.

"Cut it out, Wade," Aaron said. "If you’re gonna make us go home, at least let us get there alive."

Wade grumbled but slowed down a bit. The man had a point. Besides, he couldn't find out anything if he was dead.

When Wade passed the first sentries, they quickly averted their eyes. His stomach clenched, and he sped to the first group of cabins.

Spying one of the Watch, he slammed on the brakes. The truck skidded on the snowy dirt, soil and small rocks pinged on the underside of the vehicle.

Wade yelled out to one of the men, "Where's he at?"

“Still at Doc's," the man said. “Wade, I’m sorry."

Wade tore down the trail. Who did the man think he was apologizing to him like that? There wasn’t anything to be sorry for. Everything was fine, just fine.

Aaron clung to the door, but he didn't say anything as he eyed the narrow road and drop-offs beside it.

At Doc's cabin, Wade threw the truck into park before it had fully stopped. The transmission protested, and the vehicle shuddered to a stop, sliding off the trail and almost into Doc's small garden.

Wade bounded all three of the porch stairs and threw open the front door. "Doc?" he yelled but continued to speed through the kitchen into the hallway.

Paul ran out of his office to meet him. "Wade, we need to talk first.”

"Where's my brother?"

"He's here."

"Is he," Wade's voice broke. "Is he—?"

"He's alive."

But Wade understood what Paul didn't say. Barely. His brother was barely alive. "Where?"

"We need to talk."

Wade's shoulders shook with the strain of trying to keep himself from breaking down. "I need to see him! Where's my brother?"

"Wade, it's just—he's bad off. I want you to be prepared."

"Okay. Okay." Wade ran his hand through his hair. "I just need to see him."

Paul waved him into Dylan's room.

Wade took one look at his brother, hauled in a breath, and glued his eyes to the floor.

The breath he pulled in stuck. He couldn't let it go. Maybe if he did, he would lose more than air. His own life, and Dylan's, would go with it.

He’d been there every day of Dylan's life. And for most of it, his brother had been the only one who cared if Wade lived or died. It'd been him and Dylan looking out for each other for so long, he couldn’t imagine anything else.

Wade slowly brought his gaze back to the bed. His brother was powerful — a rock. But now he lay so still— so pale and waxy. If Paul hadn't told Wade that Dylan was alive, he would have thought otherwise. Wade started to shake.

He turned to the wall, putting a hand to it to support himself. That wasn't his brother, it couldn't be. This wasn't real. Unable to hold his breath any longer, he gasped. Wade assumed after so long without one, there would be a quick pull for another one, but he was wrong. He couldn't bring in air.

His gasping became choking, then a grating, urgent sound that he had never heard come from any human being's lungs before.

Paul hovered over him as Wade leaned over with his hands on his knees. "Breathe," Paul said. "Slow and easy."

Wade battled with himself. Maybe he didn’t want to breathe. Maybe if Dylan wasn’t hauling in air, he shouldn’t be either.

Wade felt a flush come over him. His face must be redder than a late-summer tomato. Was that normal? To think of tomatoes when you were dying, when others were dying?

Wade made such a racket trying to catch some air, he was shocked when he heard Dylan's raspy, weak voice.

"Wade."

The instant he heard it, the world righted. Dylan was alive. And where there was life, there was hope.

Wade straightened, gulped down some air and went to his brother's side. Pulling a chair over, Wade sat as close to Dylan as he could get.

Dylan closed his eyes again, so Wade looked at Paul. Composing himself asked, "Doc, what happened?"

Paul explained what had happened since Wade had been gone—Dylan's unsuccessful treatment, the fact that the shooter had never stepped forward yet, and even the man who died of the mysterious illness.

At the mention of the illness, Wade scowled and stopped Paul. “I was lookin’ for signs of who did this to D, and I found something along the trial the shooter must’ve taken.” He pulled the vial from his pocket. “Looked kinda new and shiny so it couldn’t have been out there all that long. What do you make of it?”

Paul took the little glass container from Wade and examined it. “I agree it couldn’t have been out there long. There’s no label, which is odd.” He shook it. “There may be enough for me to run a few tests.”

“I just thought it was strange.”

“It is. Especially if it does have a connection to Ethan’s death.”

“But Wade there’s something else.” Paul shoved the vial into his jean’s pocket and scrubbed his face.

Wade's heart sank when Paul nodded to the door. Wade rose only to hear. "You better not be runnin’ out on me."

"I ain't, brother." Wade patted Dylan on the shoulder and shot a look at Paul.

Dylan didn't open his eyes, but said, "Say whatcha gotta say, Doc."

"Dylan, you need to work on getting better. Let us worry about everything else."

"I know she should’ve been back by now."

Paul sighed as Wade sent him a questioning look. "It's Skye. They waited as long as they could, hoping you all would get back. But you can see the situation is dire. She, Jesse, Kelsey, Spencer, and Reed went to the drug store by the Super Walmart for antibiotics.”

Paul threw a glance at Dylan, who stared at him through narrowed eyes, and went on, "It should have taken them no more than three hours even if they had a little trouble. They left early this morning."

The three men stared out the window at the gathering darkness.

Forty-Seven

Tough

Behind a large tree, Jesse crouched in the forest. He dug through the backpack, hope against hope, that someone had thrown a weapon in there. Anything.

There was nothing.

He let out a groan and sunk to the ground when he heard Skye say she was going with Kelsey. Losing one of them would have been bad enough. Please, not both of them.

Jesse peeked above the small depression he sat in. What could he do?

He needed to think like Dylan.

Jack's men had guns on everyone. If there was a move, Jesse couldn't see it.

Skye circled the car and got in beside Kelsey.

He rubbed a hand down a cheek as his eyes darted from one side of the road to the other. Heartbeat racing, he readied himself.

His mom needed him. Kelsey needed him.

Jesse stood, then ran up the hill toward the road, picking up a large branch on the way. His foot hit the pavement just as Jack’s cars pulled away.

Jesse stood on the edge of the forest, numb.

A noise to his right caught his attention. Spencer and Reed still sprawled on the ground. Rushing to the men, Jesse asked, “Are you all okay?”

"Yeah," Reed said, carefully pushing himself off the ground. He pulled up his shirt to reveal a large bruise already forming.

Spencer held a hand to his head. "A bit dizzy, but I'll survive."

"Can you follow 'em? Follow from a distance as far as you can."

Reed gave him a serious look. "What about you?"

"I'll go back down to the store, get a car, and drive back home. Get Dylan's meds to him. Maybe the other men are back now. If not, I'll get who I can. We'll come back here. Leave sign when you turn off this road."

"With what?"

Spencer's eyes lit up. "Hey, there’s some paint in the truck with the building supplies. Let's grab some of that. We'll paint the road. You won't miss it!"

Jesse nodded and turned to go.

"Jesse," Reed said. "Wait. I think one of us should be with you."

Jesse disagreed, "I'm just going home. You’re following them, and you don't know what you're getting into. The two of you need to be together."

Spencer looked at his bruised body and laughed. “I’m not sure about that, kid. You're pretty tough yourself, but I get your meaning. Okay then, be careful. Take it slow around those curves, and if you see anything fishy, run."

"I will." Jesse ran to the side of the road, preferring to take the shortest route, straight down the forested mountain instead of the winding road. He skidded and rolled, grabbing trunks of trees when he could, using brush and weeds as ropes to hang onto. By the time he reached the bottom, small cuts and bruises covered him, but he'd been hurt more over less. This was for Skye and Kelsey.

His boots hit pavement with a thud. He looked down both sides of the road and ran across to the superstore parking lot. Now he prayed that one of those cars had some keys hanging in them—and started.

Jesse went to the closest vehicle, a red Ford Sudan. The front door was open, and he slid behind the wheel. No keys in the ignition. He pulled down both visors, and checked the glove box, as well as, under the floor mats. Nothing.

Since it was a newer car, all the tricks Skye had taught him for hot-wiring a vehicle would be of little use. He moved to the next one.

A blue Honda Civic, locked. Jesse peered through the windows and spotted the keys in the ignition. He looked around the ground for a rock big enough to smash the window. Spotting one, he rushed to the side of the parking lot and pulled it from among the weeds.

Jesse ran back to the Civic and smashed the rock against the passenger side window. The window shook but stayed intact. He tried again. Still nothing.

Irritation flared and Jesse gritted his teeth, giving it everything he had. He jumped back as the glass shattered, then swept some of the small pieces out of his way.

A sigh of relief passed his lips when Jesse turned the key, and the engine hummed. But the gas gauge barely climbed past empty.

He ran a hand through his hair as he eyed a couple other cars. It would be worth it to check them.

After finding that neither of the other cars had keys, he realized the Honda was his best option, even if it had little gas. He’d have to keep his eye open for something else along the way.

After jumping back into the Civic, he slammed the door shut and turned the car toward home.

Jesse drove faster than Skye would’ve liked, but careful enough not to endanger himself. It was a good thing the adults taught any kid who could reach the pedals to drive. He shuddered to think what would happen if he couldn’t get home quickly. It meant the difference between life and death.

As he drove, Jesse scoured the few driveways he went by for vehicles, but he had yet to find any. He shook his head. When they weren’t looking for a car, they were everywhere!

By the time the Civic was sputtering on its last bit of gas, Jesse was ready to pull out his hair. Apparently, everyone here had taken off to so-called safe areas in their one car. He imagined a parking lot full of vehicles somewhere not doing him any good.

Getting out of the car, he kicked the tire in anger. And clamped his lips when it caught his little toe the wrong way, and a pain shot up his foot. “Dang it!”

He hopped around a bit before the pain subsided and started his long walk home.

Any house that had a garage was worth taking the time to check out, but there were few. And seemingly, further apart now that he was on foot.

After walking for several hours, tired and thirsty, he came across a red, beat-up truck on the side of the road.

Jesse snorted, remembering the story of how Dylan and Skye met. Maybe old, red trucks are a thing for them. Maybe it would be what saved Dylan.

Jesse opened the unlocked front door and saw keys hanging in the ignition as if it was waiting for him. He settled himself in the driver's seat and threw up a little prayer as he turned the key. This vehicle didn't hum, it rumbled and choked, but it caught. And it had half a tank of gas—more than enough to get home.

Pulling away from the roadside, Jesse had to yank hard on the wheel and then overcorrected. There was so much play in the steering, it was like he was learning to drive all over again. But eventually, he got the hang of driving what seemed like a big boat.

Dusk was almost upon him by the time he got to the mountain. One by one, the lookouts shouted to him as he drove by and radioed ahead to the others.

By the time he pulled up in front of Doc Kinder's house, Wade was outside waiting for him. One look at the man’s large, bear-like frame almost had Jesse in tears. He'd been trying to be strong for so long.

His shoulders sagged. It was someone else's turn now.

Jesse hopped out of the truck dragging the backpack with him. Wade met him at the front of the vehicle and said, “Jesse. I was just headin’ out to find you.”

Jesse choked up. Unable to speak, he hung his head, shaking it. A tear dripped from his face to the ground and felt a flush of shame overtake him.

Wade pulled him into a hug. He looked at the strange vehicle, then at the guard with a question on his face. The guard shrugged. "You're home now, boy. Let's take one thing at a time. What's in the backpack?"

Jesse sobbed out his answer. "Meds. He's alive still, ain't he?"

"Yes, he is. And he needs these real bad. So, let's get these to Doc, and then we'll have a conversation about everything else.” Wade clapped him on the back. "You're home now, Son. Good job.”

Relief pushed through Jesse’s worry and sadness as the two rushed to Dylan’s room.

He’d fulfilled his promise to Skye and done it by himself.

Now it was time to keep his promise to Kelsey. The two women needed to be rescued.

He glanced up at his uncle. He’d have help with that.

Forty-Eight

Hang On

Jesse stayed on Wade's heels as he rushed down the hall. The doctor stood at the end of the corridor.

"They're here?" Paul asked, looking around Jesse for the others.

"Jesse's here," Wade corrected him, “with the medicine."

Paul’s eyes went round for a moment, then he said, “Good. That’s very good.”

Paul shouted for Bre.

The girl raced from the loft, jumping the steps two at a time. "Dad?"

"They have the antibiotic. We want to put it in an IV, so we get the maximum in Dylan in the shortest time. Could you get that ready while I check his wound?”

Bre hurried in and out of the medical supply closet getting everything required, then she lined it up on a tray beside Dylan's bed.

Jesse leaned against the doorjamb, staring at Dylan. While Wade had gone to his brother’s side, he hadn’t made it past the door.

A pressure started in his chest, and his gaze fell to the floor.

His dad was the kind of man meant to be upright, breathing the pure mountain air and scouting the forest floor. To see him lingering half-dead in a sick room was almost more than Jesse could take. The boy cleared his throat and quickly wiped at his eyes.

"It'll be okay, Jesse,” Wade said. "My brother is as strong as they come."

Jesse nodded but still couldn’t look up. Within a few minutes, Bre was done, and the antibiotics flowed through Dylan’s veins. He'd hardly stirred during the procedure.

"Okay." Paul sighed. "Now, we hope for the best."

Jesse threw him a suspicious look. Hoping for the best didn't seem very professional. Surely, they could do more than hope.

But when Wade didn't contradict him, Jesse's heart sank. He turned and made his way to the living room, his feet scraping on the shiny wood floor. Reaching the couch, he fell into it, sinking deep into its soft cushions.

Jesse let it soothe him as best as it could, but it wasn’t enough. He sighed and turned, exhausted and restless at the same time. But no matter how tired he was, he knew there would be no sleep until Dylan was okay.

Bre came into the kitchen and looked over at Jesse. "You want something to eat or drink?"

"No," Jesse mumbled.

She nodded and opened the refrigerator, pulling out sandwich ingredients. After plating it, she added some of the never-ending supply of chips left in this world, along with two fresh-baked cookies. After pouring a tall glass of tea, she brought it over to him and sat it on the coffee table in front of him.

Jesse looked at it with disdain. "I ain't eatin' that."

"Don't get all growly and rude because you're worried," Bre said sternly.

"Don't act like you’re a mom. You ain't but a couple years older than me."

"Four."

"Who stinkin’ cares?"

Bre rolled her eyes. "I'm not momming you.” She waved at his appearance. “You're a mess, and I figured you haven't eaten. Eat it, don't eat it. It's up to you."

She plopped in the chair across from him.

Jesse scoffed, and rolled over, turning his back to her. But the deep aroma of roast beef wafted over him, and his stomach roared, letting him know it wanted the meal.

Now.

Jesse sighed, flopped over, and sat up. He picked up the sandwich and ignoring Bre's amused glance, bit into it. Before he knew it, the plate was clean. He slumped back into the couch.

"Are you okay?" Bre asked.

The best Jesse could do was to shrug.

"Your dad will heal. He's strong, and you got here in time." When he didn't look at her, she asked, "Where are they? Are they okay?"

"Taken."

Bre gasped.

Jesse glanced up when Wade entered the room.

"Taken where?" his uncle asked.

"They took Mom and Kelsey, but Reed and Spencer are following them."

Wade and Bre paled at the news. "Come on, Dylan's awake. Might as well talk this all out with him."

Jesse followed him down the hall. At Dylan's room, he peeked around the corner before entering. While the sick man looked far from healthy, there was a spark that had been missing earlier.

"Dad!" Jesse rushed to his side.

"Hey, Son," Dylan croaked out, patting Jesse's back as the boy leaned in to hug him. "I'm happy to see you safe."

"Oh, Dad, it's Mom and Kelsey. I tried. I didn't know—" Dylan’s arms tightened around him, then went still. Jesse laid his head on him and sobbed. "She's gone. They're gone. I tried to think of what you'd do, but there wasn't—wasn't a move to make."

Wade and Dylan exchanged a heavy glance. Dylan rubbed Jesse's back. "It's okay, boy," he said. “Sometimes there’s not. I know you did all you could. Now settle and tell us what happened."

Jesse lifted his head and scrubbed his sleeve across his eyes. He told them the whole story, start to finish, wiping at tears as he went.

At the end, he mumbled, "I don't care if Mom thinks all this," he waved his hand around his face, "is good for us. I think it's a pain in the butt. Stayin’ tough is a whole lot easier."

The men grunted their agreement.

"We need a plan here," Dylan said, pushing himself up. After a few unsuccessful tries, he grimaced and sank back into the bed. "I want out of this bed."

"I know, brother, but you've got a few days of recovery here. You should've seen yourself a few hours ago. It was sickening."

Dylan barked out a laugh, holding his side as he did so. "Thanks, bro."

"Well, I don't ever wanna see you like that again. So you're gonna stay here until you’re well. Me and the boys'll go after the others. Sounds like it'll be easy enough to find Reed and Spencer. If we can catch up to them, it'll just be another hop and step to this Jack character."

Dylan nodded but punched the bed in his frustration. "I'm havin’ a hard time staying behind."

Wade thumped Dylan's shoulder. "We'll find her." He turned to Jesse. "You stay here too, kid."

"No, I'm comin’.”

Wade shook his head. "You've been through enough today."

"I'm comin’. I don't want you to miss where Jack took them. It'd mess everything all up."

"Kid, it ain't likely that's gonna happen—"

"I'm comin’ with ya! I need to make this right. That Jack needs to be taught he can't just go taking people whenever he wants.”

Dylan shot a look at Wade. “The boy's going. But Jesse, you did everything you could. This ain't on you. It's not, no matter what happens. You hear me?"

"I know. But what I think and what I feel are two different things."

"You remember what I said, ya hear?"

Jesse nodded. "I will, sir."

Dylan turned to Wade. "Keep him away from any gunfire. The boy is aching for payback, and he'll be stupid. Tie him down if need be but keep him safe."

"You know I will, brother."

"If you ain't back by the time I'm strong enough to get out of this bed, I'm coming after you."

"I plan on it."

Jesse and the men looked at each other. In their glances was all the affection they had for each other, along with the gravity of the situation. It was enough.

Wade and Jesse left the room and walked out of the house. Jesse threw a glance over his shoulder. If only Dylan could come with them. But that was impossible. It was Wade and him for now. Jesse looked up. And apparently, half the camp.

While they had been inside, men and women had gathered, including those who had just come home with Wade. They leaned against the porch rails, milled in the yard, and sat on cars. They all looked at Wade with expectation.

Wade stopped and stared. "Y'all comin'?"

Joe stepped forward. "You bet. One, ain't no one going to mess with our people, and we just sit on our hands about it. And two, ain't no one going to let Dylan lose Skye, or Jesse lose his momma. That ain't right." He took a step forward. "We're strong. It's time to show we don't just sit here and take this.”

Jesse felt the glow of revenge grow brighter.

Hold on, Mom and Kelsey. We're comin’.

Sanctuary’s Aggression 6: The Beginning

This box set is compiled in the order in which the books were written. The prequel books, The Beginning and The Atlantis Cure, can be read first or where they are located in the box set.

The prequels are important to the conclusion of the series.

Thank you for reading the series. :)

Copyright © 2021 Maira Dawn

All rights reserved.

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and a resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

Contents

Prologue

1. The Smack

2. Tormentors

3. Spire Cliff

4. The Shadow

5. Jata Ara

6. Rogue Wave

7. You Are Okay

8. Big Evil Man

9. Abominations

10. Lights

11. Questions

12. Tell Me About

13. And Your Name Is?

14. That Rage

15. Murder

16. The Garden

17. The Beginning

18. Family Fights

19. The Vow

20. Your Sister?

21. Stay Tomorrow

22. Better Than Human

23. Breathe

24. Even If

25. Hate is a Strong Word

26. A Dream

27. Family Dinner

28. A Mother’s Fear

29. Talk

30. Endara

31. Our Son

32. I Wish…

33. Home

34. Lessons

35. Broke

36. The Artifact

37. This is What Happens…

38. Argos

39. Busted

40. Let Me

41. The Wedding

42. Secrets

43. The Reception

44. May I?

Prologue

The hallway was quiet when Sonora stepped out into it. Her eyes adjusted to the muted lighting, taking in the friendly shadows it created on the sage green walls and the ancestral portraits hanging in intervals along the smooth surface. Sonora breathed the scent of flowers filling the air from the garden on the other side of the corridor. Maybe they would help calm her.

Sonora pulled the guest room door shut, hoping the guests could sleep after everything they'd been through.

If one only knew the end at the beginning. If she had known, if Sonora's visitors had known, what this year would bring, would they have acted differently? Of course. They all would have.

They had taken care of everything. How had things gone so wrong? How many people were still left up there? How much of her beloved little town, Seaside, still stood? She should ask, but was afraid of the answer.

Sonora took in another deep breath and shook her head. A person couldn’t know, couldn’t plan for the bad things coming their way… or the good for that matter, either. Her eyes lingered on the hall as she thought back to the time when she hadn't known any of this existed, hadn't known he existed. The person she was before this would've thought it was a fantasy. If someone had confided it to her, Sonora would have thought them delusional.

The door ahead of her clicked opened and a handsome man stepped through. Hearing Sonora's footsteps padding toward him, he looked up and smiled that gorgeous grin he saved just for her.

Sonora returned it with one of her own as she recalled the beginning of this strange story.

One

The Smack

Chapter One

Sonora stopped, letting her restless eyes search for that small sliver of blue ocean she could sometimes see from this window if the wind blew the trees in the right direction. Dirty dishes clanged in the bin she dropped on her next messy table, causing a few customers to look her way.

There it was. Sonora let out a slow breath, and the tension in her shoulders eased. The ocean was Sonora's one and only true love. Not the beach, as many people would say, but the sea itself with its many moods and mysterious creatures. Its familiar motion a comfort and its secret ways a fascination. It was her life's dream to have a career in discovering its depths.

She blew out a sigh stirring the blonde hair straying from her ponytail and wiped her arm across her glistening forehead. And she was stuck in this dead-end job.

Sonora plopped a rag onto the diner table and started to scrub. It wasn't so bad, as far as restaurant work went. As the trendiest café in town, it offered the best tips. But four days of double shifts, covering for her co-workers, had given her a massive headache and the clamor of the place wasn't making it any better. Sonora put the back of her hand to her forehead. This epic-proportions head pain wasn't going anywhere. After hauling the bin to its spot in the noisy kitchen, she took a minute to swig down a couple more pills and some water before her next order was up.

Sonora pulled the dishes onto her tray, making sure they would be to her customer's satisfaction. Was this job it then? She could hardly bear it now. She'd be a disaster in a decade or two, and it wasn't likely to be a beautiful one!

What had happened to her detailed, inventive plan for college. It needed to be resourceful because her parents had regretfully informed her that money was short, and they wouldn't be able to pay for her schooling. Then somehow financing hadn’t come through.

So, her plan changed to this. Becoming a server at the highest paying cafe on this stretch of Carolina coast and saving for classes for one year to help toward college loans. But when she tried to apply, the classes were full. Since then, it seemed a vicious cycle. As soon as Sonora appeared to have a decent amount of money saved, she'd lose it to car troubles or other expenses. If that didn't happen, the classes she needed would be full. After more than a year of this, Sonora was close to giving up on her dream of becoming a marine biologist.

She looked around the busy restaurant, her heart sinking. This might indeed be the rest of her life. Her head jerked up as Bob, the chef and owner, bellowed out her nickname for another order pick-up. This time Sonora rushed to the window, even though she preferred going into the kitchen.

She sighed. The food sat closer to the kitchen side than the restaurant side, making her bend under the upper shelf and too close to a neighboring table.

A hard smack to her backside startled Sonora, causing her to hit her head on the bottom of the shelf. Sonora jerked herself upright, she stiffly turned to the table of the offender and glared at a group of snickering college boys.

"Hey, sorry about that," one of them confessed, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. "I couldn't help myself. But don't worry, I'll give you a big tip. Make up for my offensive behavior." He drew out the last two words to continue the entertainment for his friends. It worked. Sonora felt the steam rise in her as their snickers turned into roaring laughter.

It wasn't the first time a customer had misbehaved, and Sonora was sure it wouldn't be the last. That was what angered her. Her glare left the table to find many curious stares from the patrons.

"Sunny!" Bob called again, reminding her of the order sitting in the window. Their order.

Her body tightened, and her headache spiked. "I can't," she whispered before saying aloud. "I just can't."

"What did you say?" Bob asked, looking clueless. His eyes narrowed as he strained to hear over the clatter he created.

"I can't stay here and play nice with these Cretans!"

"What?" Bob inquired, looking from the amused young men to his waitress as she threw out her arm and raced for the door, apologizing to the other servers as she rushed by them.

Sonora shook, pushed beyond her limits. Maybe she was just so beyond tired, perhaps it was the realization she'd be a waitress for life, but she cracked. After reaching the front doors, Sonora yelled loud enough for everyone to hear, "I'm sorry, Bob, but I cannot deal with such rude, sexist idiots today!"

She half-ran to her car, wrenching open the blue driver's door before falling into the seat. Sonora slammed the key at the ignition and hit home on the third try. She looked at the cafe's windows only to find the wide eyes of the customers, some amused and some sympathetic, following her.

She slumped and laid her head on the steering wheel. This couldn't be it for her. It just couldn't be. She gave herself a minute, then lifted her head and straightened in her seat.

After putting the car in drive, Sonora sniffed the salt air. She needed to sink below the waves, just for a little while. A smile tugged at her mouth as she pointed the car down the hill toward the beach.

Two

Tormentors

Chapter Two

Ian's footsteps thudded over the hard pavement of the full parking lot. He shot a glance over his shoulder. The men chasing him were doing better than he would have guessed. They'd been panting within a minute of giving pursuit.

Ian wasn't all that surprised when they drew their guns and started to fire. Ian heard the zip of one, then two bullets go by him. He ducked behind a large, blue truck and leaned back against the tire.

A bullet clinked, bouncing on the hard surface beside Ian. He clenched his fist. No, not bullets, tranquilizer darts. They didn't want him dead. They wanted him alive. To take him apart, see what he was made of. Ian's heart pounded twice against his sternum as a warning to drag in another breath. Only a small one, he reminded himself, the oxygen-rich air would make him dizzy.

Adrenaline-fueled, Ian wove through the parked cars, using them as shields. Up ahead, the trail split, the left side heading down to the beach. The other up to the ocean overlook, to the cliff they called Spire.

More people were on the Spire path. That cemented Ian's decision. Surely, they wouldn't fire into their own people.

Ian stopped behind a van and shielded himself from another spray of darts. He quickly pulled off his t-shirt, jeans, and shoes, leaving only the swimwear he wore under it. Ian's brilliant clan tattoo caught the sun and gleamed, causing more than a few curious glances. Or perhaps, it was the sheen of his skin. It always shimmered in the sun more than theirs did.

Moving from the relative safety of the truck, he sprinted up the cliff path. The popping of the gunshots continued behind Ian as he pushed through a large group of people. Ian shook his head. So, they would shoot into a crowd. Apparently, the goons thought the worst that would happen was that some citizen would take a long nap.

Ian's bare feet dug deeper into the rocky soil as he worked for more speed. Worse than a nap would happen to him. Ian’s stomach churned as an image of his friend's broken body floating on the waves flashed through his mind. He shoved it away. There was no time to dwell on that now.

People screamed as they ran for cover. One dark-haired woman stumbled and fell, unconscious. A yellow-tipped dart stuck out of her neck.

Ian's eyes narrowed. Isare! Tormenters. They feared nothing, that's how much they wanted him.

Ian felt exposed as he sped along the bare path. The trail was wider than a truck, and the men could easily see him now that most of the people had found safety.

The sun beat down on Ian's too-dry body. He'd been above water too long, but he had been so close. After years of searching, he'd almost had the traitor.

Another thunk, brought him back to the problem at hand. The men's aim was improving. A dart bounced off a rock, inches from Ian, spurring him on the final few yards.

They wanted to see what he was made of? He'd show them.

As Ian began to run out of ground, he sped up instead of slowing. Sightseers gasped from their hiding places in low brush as he took to the air with a harsh shout, jeering at the men chasing him. Mid-leap, Ian maneuvered into a perfect forward dive, intentionally twisting in a spiral as he dropped down the sheer face of the five-hundred-foot cliff.

Two more tranquilizers tumbled past Ian as he descended. The men above stopped, standing helplessly at the top of the cliff. With a smirk, Ian made a clean cut through the ocean's surface and disappeared from view.

Three

Spire Cliff

Chapter Three

Sonora stood facing the vast, rolling ocean, her feet almost ankle-deep in the sandy beach. Her long, blonde hair swept her back and arms as it blew in the gentle wind. Sonora raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun's brightness and trailed each wave as it pushed onto the shore and pulled back away again as if teasing her.

Sonora forced her mind to happier thoughts, chasing away the unfortunate events of her workday. She'd call Bob once she was calmer. Hopefully, he was in a forgiving mood.  Sonora smiled as she inhaled the salty air, glad to be away from the clash of dishes and instead, near the water even if she couldn't explore as much she would have liked.

As usual, her optimistic nature was quick to come to the forefront. A smile had been her most common expression since the day she was born. So much so that by the time she was two-years-old, her mother nicknamed her Sunny, and it had stuck.

Sonora pulled her feet from the holes they had dug in the sand and took a few steps forward, dipping her toes in a warm little pool left behind by the outgoing tide. Standing on one foot, she swirled the other in the water for a moment as she returned her gaze to the ocean waves as the latest set gently whorled onto the shore. The water was so calm today. It would be a good day for some snorkeling.

Sonora tipped her face up to the heat of the sun, allowing it to wash over her, thankful for the good things of the day and ignoring her desire for expensive diving equipment. This was her favorite place, where she went to breathe out the stress of the day and inhale the calmness and serenity permeating this ancient place. Undoubtedly, hundreds of generations had come here for the same reason she did. Something about that felt right.

Her eyes roamed to her right, from the edge of the shore, up to where the reddish Spire Cliff towered over the light-colored beach. At the top of its rocky height, she could see a few sightseers taking their leave and walking the short trail back to the parking lot.

At five-hundred feet tall, Spire Cliff was a relic, the last holdout of solid stone on this sandy oceanfront. At odds with the gentle nature of the low country around it, the cliff was beautifully defiant, standing tall where it should not be.

The South and West sides sloped sharply, but a moderately adventurous person could climb the seagrass-covered banks.

The East and North side, however, offered an entirely different view. Two sheer rock faces, the east rising straight from the ocean that battered it day and night, while the final wall sat beside the seemingly endless beach that ran northward. The Spire's red color was more reminiscent of the ruddy Georgia clay than the tawny sand around it.

So mismatched was Spire Cliff from the surroundings, it had once been a tourist attraction which drew people from several states away. Now though, it was often labeled a landmark rather than an attraction. Still, most people stopped and stared in surprise, if not actual fascination, of its wild beauty.

"Did you hear what happened here yesterday?" said a female voice uncomfortably close to Sonora’s shoulder.

Lost in her own thoughts, she startled. Sonora gave a small yelp and almost tripped over a little pile of sand. "No," she said, turning toward the dark-haired woman while trying to take a small inconspicuous step backward. "What happened?"

"Some guy jumped off Spire Cliff. Just jumped right off into the water. I heard he did some fancy dive and everything," the woman said, waving her arm in the air. The woman leaned toward Sonora as if gossiping about a naughty neighbor.

Sonora shook her head. The few who had tried to dive it hadn't survived. "Why would he do that?"

"Well." The woman held Sonora in suspense for a moment, then lowered her voice. "Some other guys were shooting at him, is what I heard. Not cops though, so ya gotta wonder what's up with that. But some people swear they saw him swimming off, so maybe he made it." The woman shrugged her shoulders but seemed somewhat hopeful he had survived.

"But how...?" Sonora muttered as she turned and lifted her eyes back up to the top of the enormous cliff. She shivered, remembering a day she'd held a friend’s hand and leaned out over the edge on a dare. It would take an extraordinary man to even think of attempting a jump.

But the dark-haired woman was on to other concerns. "Why random people can go around shooting guns at a perfectly peaceful beach is what I want to know! Since when is that a thing? If the guy is a criminal, police should have been involved! And if he isn't, well then, who were the people shooting? That's what I want to know."

Sonora agreed as she turned back to the woman. Sonora looked to the right and left only to find she had gone as abruptly as she had come. Sonora giggled to herself. The woman was likely off to spring the news on another unsuspecting beach bum.

Sonora plopped down on the sand and grabbed up a handful. Staring at the rolling ocean, she recalled the many times her mother teased her over her love of the sea. Too much for someone named after the desert, she'd always said. Sonora snorted. It might be true. Her entire family took every beach opportunity they could, but Sonora outdid them all.

From the time she was small, Sonora had plied her Aunt Claire, who worked at the local Marine Center and Museum, with questions. She had followed Claire around, churning out inquiries until her aunt would take her little face in her hands and gently squeeze her cheeks and plead for her to stop.

When Sonora started driving, she spent long after-school hours either in the water or the Marine Center in spite of her friends’ pleas, and jeering, over her resistance to join them at their many parties.

Now she worked as hard as she could to save money for college. Her whole life had been about getting into that water, and somehow she’d make it her career.

Sonora stood and brushed the sand off herself. She would reapply for financing and make a better budget when she got home, saving every penny, no matter how long it took. Until then, she'd be content with snorkeling. It was free and always an adventure. What treats would it hold for her today?

Four

The Shadow

Chapter Four

Sonora waded into the water, anticipating the force of the warm waves before they banged against her legs, swirling around her. She wiggled her toes and adjusted her stance for the gritty sand's slow suction under the soles of her feet.

Sonora startled at a long form to her left. Smaller fish were the norm in this area. Maybe the thing was only a piece of driftwood. She took a step toward it, and it sped away. Sonora frowned. Not driftwood then. Perhaps a sea turtle?

Sonora glanced over her shoulder, the way the fish had swam away. She smiled when she saw the quick flash of a sleek, grey dolphin rolling in a wave just a few feet away from her.

Sonora brought her mask close to her lips, and gathering some saliva, spat into the goggles. She wiped the spit around the glass with her finger, getting all the edges so her view wouldn't be obstructed. After adjusting both the mask and snorkel to her face, Sonora took a few steps and slid into the sea. As the water smoothed over her body and enfolded her, she moved from one world and into the next. All the weights and cares of the topside washed away, to be forgotten during Sonora’s precious hours below.

She dove, investigating the small sea creatures around her, coming up only when she needed air. Sonora listened for the hollow thunk of water leaving her snorkel, before taking a breath and again retreating into the muffled ocean below.

After a while she rose to float, bouncing lightly with the sun-warmed water as tiny ripples rolled like silk over Sonora's shoulders and down her back, while others teased her feet.

A small group of colorful little fish darted here and there below her on their endless quest for food, while other larger species slowly swam into one side of her field of vision and out the other. A little crab scurried across the ocean floor on a mission known only to him. Sonora almost chuckled. This was better than TV.

After diving to the shallow ocean floor, Sonora examined some treasures the small reef provided. She picked up the little crab, and he fearlessly tried to pinch her thumb, which was twice as big as him. Sonora let him think he won and settled him back on the sandy floor where a half-buried starfish lay. After waving the remaining sand off the creature, she gave it a few light strokes.

Sonora avoided the colorful coral, but stroked and gently prodded what was safe as she kicked her way from one area to another. To her right, a school of fish startled and swam to the deeper part of the ocean. It seemed darker than it should be. Sonora looked above her and filled with disappointment. She'd been down here longer than she thought. It was time to go home.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw it. The shadow. The same one she’d seen for three days in a row now. Sonora narrowed her eyes. She'd been curious at first, but now she was getting a bit worried.

The first day, the shadow was no more of a flash, and Sonora had talked herself into thinking it was only a trick of the light. The second day, it hovered behind her. When she turned, the shadow quickly disappeared, but she still hadn't been too worried. It could've been a shy fish.

But a third day? A third day of a shadow purposely staying out of her line of sight? This was no longer some random incident, nor was it the behavior of fish. This was the behavior of humans, most likely some creeper. Despite the warm water, a chill shot down Sonora's spine.

How long had this been going on?

There may be a beach full of people above her, but down here, Sonora was alone. She looked at her empty hands and the deep water surrounding her. For the first time in Sonora's life, she felt a threat while in her beloved sea.

Wanting to know who followed her, Sonora tensed to swing toward the shadow. Before she made a move, it was gone like a flash of light, as if it knew her plan. The same way it had disappeared the last two days.

Sonora tried to relax. If it followed the same pattern, that would be the last she would see of it today. She surfaced and cleared her snorkel. Sonora admired the sun sitting low on the horizon, and with a heavy heart, started swimming for shore.

Five

Jata Ara

Chapter Five

Keeping to the shadows, he watched as the woman turned and kicked her way back to shore. She was out later today than usual; it would be dark soon. It was good he'd been here to watch over her. She had a habit of coming to the water by herself. He didn't like it. It could be dangerous for humans.

Her long, blonde hair rippled in a fan behind her. It reminded him of the sun's rays shining down from the world above.

Something about the woman drew him to her over and over again. At first, he'd rebelled, but soon thoughts of her drove everything else from his mind. He knew what the stories said, what his parents to his great-great-grandparents and as far back as he could remember would call the person who drew him.

What would she call it? Mate, partner, consort, spouse, wife, lover. But those were human terms. They didn't measure how deeply his people felt about the one they spent their life with. They knew all those words, but also more. And for that reason, in his language, they called their mates Jata Ara, or as humans would say Intended, from the moment they met them.

For humans, intended merely meant a person they planned to marry. He scoffed at that definition. There was so much more to it than that. Jata Ara meant the person you were purposed to be with, someone who matched you flawlessly, who was undeniably, unquestionably, yours. One's true partner.

And his people quickly recognized their Intended. One look was all it could take. Some called it the Valltrik or Knowing. Why his people had this ability, they weren't entirely sure. Though it was thought their people had developed an extreme kind of empathy.

But what would he know? He'd searched for decades and never found his Intended. Most men found theirs within a year or two of searching, but not him. Even though he had scoured all the kingdoms of the sea. Although he had met many lovely women, he had never known a pull to one specific person, never felt that knowing that someone was indisputably his. So, even as he watched friend after friend find their Intended, he had stopped believing.

Until now. All the old ones had told him not to give up, that his time would come, and when she was found, it would be life-changing. They were right. This connection had been instant—deep and sharp at the core of his being. This woman belonged with him.

But there was a problem. His eyes trailed the girl as his chest tightened. He swallowed hard, still unable to believe what was happening.

A true mate came from the sea, always.

Not human, not ever. Never in all the legends, in all the stories, did someone like him ever have a human Jata Ara. In cautionary tales, his people may settle for humans on a rare occasion, but they never had a real bond. Hence, the cautionary part of the tale.

And yet here he was looking at a human. He grimaced, wondering why he didn't flee. Not that he wasn't human, he was, but his kind were superior. The same model but with extra abilities. Atlantian.

And she was... just human. He almost pitied the young woman. The Atlantian ran a hand over his face. Just look at her.

He straightened. He needed to seek the girl's good qualities. If she was his Jata Ara, there had to be a reason.

She was lovely to look at, there was no doubt about that. Her body was lithe and her long, silky hair billowed around her in the water. Although the Atlantian hadn't been very close to her, if he wasn't mistaken, her eyes were a bright blue. She seemed healthy enough, but she was so small compared to Atlantian women. And that wasn't the only problem.

The Atlantian winced. That clumsy way she propelled through the water. Tiny Atlantian children moved better than that. He tipped his head. Was that even called swimming?

He groaned as the woman prodded another sea creature. What was she doing now? Doesn't she know that could be bad for it?

This couldn't be his Intended! The Atlantian tried focusing on her ignorance and lack of grace to lessen his attraction, but it didn't work. The pull continued, the Knowing refused to go away. Instead, he felt his heartbeat quicken. He wanted this clumsy girl more than he had wanted anything in his whole life.

How would he convince the human she belonged at his side under the sea? He couldn't see this going well, not at all. But he had to try. The alternative, well, he didn't want to think of that.

The Atlantian had thought through all the scenarios. Bump into her on land and ask her back to his city? No. Get to know the girl until she trusted him, then spring it on her. She'd probably think him insane and run away screaming. He ran a hand through his hair again.

He hoped the woman understood; that on some level she could have feelings for him too. But, for him, this wasn't going away. He knew what he had to do.

Six

Rogue Wave

Chapter Six

Sonora paddled toward shore, berating herself for, once again, getting further out to sea than she intended. In the middle of her self-censure, a heavy watery weight bashed into her back. It steamrolled over her and slammed her to the shallow ocean floor.

Sonora spun out of control, a swirl of arms and legs. Her flailing limbs scraped the coral. A ribbon of red tinted the turbulent water. The tide changed direction, now dragging her away from the beach. Her heart hammered at her ribcage. She grasped at anything to stop the frenzied plunge toward the depths.

But there was nothing. Only wild water and beads of air gushing through her fingers.

The snorkel ripped from her mouth. Her remaining air would no longer sustain her. Her body screamed for her to inhale.

The surface tossed and turned above her. Spent and trembling, Sonora was near hopelessness. She gave one last push to rise toward the air. She worked against the hammering tide. Every muscle strained. Her lungs begged for a single breath to accomplish what she asked of it. But she was powerless against this small, but ruthless rogue wave.

Sonora stopped fighting, letting the agitated water spin her. Tears left her eyes and mixed with the salty water killing her. She would die here.

Out of the dark, swirling sea came an impossibly large hand. A man's hand, strong and broad with a slight scar running down the back of it. It turned palm-up and opened.

It had to be him. The shadow, the creep. Yet, he offered her help. It was Sonora's only chance at life. She took it.

She reached out. His massive hand closed around hers, and he pulled her to him. His body was solid muscle against her back, the arm she gripped like iron. She should have been frightened, instead she was comforted.

He moved; swimming so fast everything seemed a blur. Or maybe it was just her lack of air making it seem that way. Sonora wrapped her arms around his large bicep. She had nothing else left. Her last breath faded. Darkness overtook her.

Sonora woke with a start to a calmer watery scene. She shuddered at the odd sensation of waking under water. Sonora's hand flew to her face as she took a breath and the regulator clicked and whooshed. She took another deep breath as if to assure herself that she could. Where had the regulator and tanks come from?

Above her, the water still swirled, and pieces of wood and debris floated on its surface. Sonora looked to her left and saw the ocean, and then to her right and saw him. She jerked back and tried to swim away. He tightened his grasp on her arm, and Sonora realized he was the reason she hadn’t floated to the top.

This was the person following her for days now. It had to be him. What do you say to the creeper who saved your life?

He pointed to Sonora and made an okay sign, then nodded his head yes.

Sonora looked at him for a moment. Well, she'd almost drowned, thought she died and woke up with the strange man who has probably been stalking her for who knows how long. But yes, she guessed she was okay. Sonora returned his nod.

The man just looked at her, as if waiting for something. If he’d thought she would throw herself into his arms, he had another thing coming.

Sonora glanced down. Wait a minute! She reached up and touched her mask, then slowly raised her eyes to his face. She put a hand to her head as comprehension burst through her. This man wore no regulator. No, that couldn't be, she must be delirious from the lack of oxygen.

Sonora's eyes drifted from his handsome face to his bare muscular chest. It was still, so very still. Was he breathing at all? How could he be breathing underwater and yet how could he not be?

Sonora tapped her regulator again. Perhaps the scene was wrong. Maybe she was not underwater at all but instead laying on the sunny beach in some kind of unsettled mental state. But the regulator was solid to the touch, and she could hear the rush of air as her breath quickened.

Sonora stared at him, examining him from head to toe. He was huge, at least six and a half feet, if not more. His black hair would have been shoulder length but for the currents that lifted it. His darkly tanned skin looked so healthy, it was almost luminescent. A shimmering tattoo ran up over his powerful bicep and turned to disappear over the back of his shoulder, emphasizing his muscular physique. The symbols were of some kind of lettering Sonora had never seen before. The swimwear on his lower half skimmed his body, and a thin, though Sonora suspected heavy, copper-colored belt circled his waist.

Sonora slowly brought her eyes back up to his. His grey eyes captured and held hers. One corner of his mouth raised in a little smirk, as if he was used to the appreciation he'd seen in her gaze.

And he probably was. He was the most amazing specimen of a man she had ever seen. But Sonora had other things on her mind. During her entire inspection, his chest still had not moved even once. Her eyes grew rounder, and she tensed. What was happening? She couldn't wrap her head around any of it.

The man's grin turned to wariness as if he sensed her unease. Tentatively, Sonora reached toward him. When the man gave her a slight nod, Sonora laid a trembling hand on his chest. He was solid.

Sonora slowly pulled the arm he still held through his callused hand until she could grasp his thick wrist. There was no denying he floated here in front of her.

Rather than soothe Sonora, the knowledge alarmed her. Because how could this incredible, not-breathing man be real?

Seven

You Are Okay

Chapter Seven

Sonora's mind flew through the options. Extreme watersports of some kind? But wouldn't she have heard of that? A scientist studying… studying something? Not a merman, she didn't even want to go there. Besides, mermen would have tails, and he had legs. But that was it. It was all she had. This was just too weird. Well, thank you very much, whoever he was. She must be getting home now.

Sonora tried to tug her arm out of his grip, but the man didn't let go. She started to swim away. He still hung onto her, and she just boomeranged right back to him. A hard pit started in Sonora's stomach. The more he held onto her, the more she wanted away.

She pointed at the hand wrapped around her arm and waved her other hand. Maybe he would understand that. The man stared at her for a minute, and slowly, it seemed almost regretfully shook his head.

Sonora set her jaw, pointed again at her arm, and pushed the middle of his chest. He shook his head again. Sonora's heart sped up. What did he think was happening here? She needed away from him now.

Thinking nothing through, Sonora raised her feet and pushed against his body as hard as she could, twisting and turning. Maybe now he would understand she was serious. Bubbles flew from her regulator. Her hair swirled around her face. The man's eyebrows snapped together, and he once again denied her freedom.

Anger and panic flooded Sonora, and she struggled harder. This time kicking at him and striking at him the best she could, but the water made her efforts no stronger than that of a small child.

The man’s scowl deepened. He made one small tug on her arm. Sonora's legs fell, and her body turned. Her back was to him now. He used one arm to bring her close to him. With the other, he repeatedly made the "You" and "Okay" signs.

SoSo, he wasn't asking, he was telling her. Well, she wasn't OKokay. She was alone underwater with a non-breathing creeper. That is what he was, a creeper! And she didn't even know how long he'd been spying on her.

Sonora continued to pummel the man in whatever way she could. She tried to gouge at his eyes, but his height made that problematic. The most she accomplished was raking her nails down his face. Sonora kicked at him, trying to stun him with a strike to the groin.

Against Sonora's back, the man's chest expanded. "Stop," he roared.

Sonora froze, the hair on her neck lifting. Had she heard that or felt it? Her body had vibrated with his voice. The sound had seemed all around and through her at the same time.

Air bubbles rushed out of Sonora's regulator, reflecting her fast and uneven breathing. The man signed "You OK" one more time. After whatever that was, she would not argue. Sonora nodded. But she didn't believe it, not for a minute.

The man held her still for a moment, testing her. Then released her enough to move them, not toward Sonora's beloved cove, but to the dark part of the ocean. She couldn't just meekly go along with him! Again, Sonora started to battle, but the man wrapped his iron arms around her until she gave up.

Every drop of energy spent; Sonora had no choice but to allow him to drag her through the water. At least the man was not rough with her despite what she’d been trying to do to him. Even now, he held her limp body with enough force to move her along, but not hard enough to hurt.

But when they reached a sizeable underwater shelf, Sonora’s fear intensified. Floating beside it was a water vehicle. It was somewhat like a motorcycle, dark -blue, with no wheels. Sonora threw a glance toward her beach. How far were they going? She vigorously shook her head.

The man sat her on the bike. Sonora took advantage of the moment and reached up to put a hand on each side of his face, holding him. His gaze jerked to hers and held. The intense stare he gave her sent a shiver all the way to her toes.

Tears wavered, threatening to fall as Sonora shook her head over and over, pleading with the man. "No, no, no, no."

He closed his eyes for a moment, seemingly saddened by her distress but simply signed, "You Okay."

Sonora dropped her hands and hung her head. Why did he keep saying she was OK okay, when it was pretty clear she was not?

When he started to move, she quickly took hold of his arm. But he pulled away, turning his attention elsewhere. Opening a compartment on the side of the bike, he pulled out a small container. He put it to his mouth and took a deep breath, swelling his chest.

Sonora's eyebrows raised. He did breathe! Still weird it was rarely, but he breathed. She tapped the center of his chest. He nodded, smiled, and pointed from her air tanks to her, then the little container to himself. The man released the air he had taken in with a great stream of bubbles and took another breath from the small container.

Sonora's gaze followed the little silver round case. How was it all these things existed, and she knew nothing about them?

Eight

Big Evil Man

Chapter Eight

When the man finished with the small canister, he handed it to Sonora and mounted the bike in front of her. Sonora turned the silver container over and over in her hands, inspecting it from all sides. There was one small button, which she pushed.

It triggered a tiny oval opening and a great blast of air shot out of the container hitting Sonora in the face. She toppled off the back of the bike, spinning in the water like a weightless astronaut.

The man grinned as he grasped her flailing hand and pulled her back to the bike's seat this time in front of him.

Sonora had managed to keep a hold on the little breather during her tumble and reexamined it. She turned the almost microscopic opening away from herself and put her finger to the button again. The man's chest rumbled with amusement, and Sonora shot him a glance. He reached over and plucked the canister from her. Her hands followed his, but before she could grab it back, the man plopped it back into its compartment. Sonora frowned. He treated her like an errant child.

The man pushed a lever on the controls, lighting them up and causing the bike to start. The vehicle built up speed, and the man glanced at her more than once as they glided through the water. It was a strange sensation, moving through the ocean so fast. Sonora turned her face from the water rushing at her and pushed back until the man's body blocked her from going any further. She shielded her face with one hand and held onto his thick forearm with the other.

He slowed the bike a little, letting Sonora get used to the sensation. Once she was more comfortable, she peeked out from behind her hand and looked around. They'd already gone so far. Her heart sank as she scanned the unfamiliar surroundings, she had to be far from the beach.

There was nothing she could do about that. This man was determined to take her somewhere. Maybe she could figure out something about where. Sonora examined the gauges on the bike, tracing the lighted letters with her finger. They were similar to his tattoo, and nothing she recognized. They seemed like some mix of hieroglyphics and letters. Sonora had seen an alphabet a little like it once on a documentary about an ancient people.

Who was this guy? He was off the Carolina Coast, for heaven's sake! Was he American? The signs they'd used were pretty universal. But he'd told her to stop in English.

Sonora startled when the man tapped her shoulder and pointed to the seascape in front of them. Ahead she saw the dark water lit up by a few beams of sunlight scattered through it.

Sonora glanced back at him. He nodded and motioned ahead.

Sonora looked ahead and started define other shapes. Dolphins, a lot of them. Several groups of the mammals moved through the water. Sonora lightened as she watched them tease each other.

The nice-sized pod had at least fifty dolphins. Swimming alongside them, with their unique side-to-side motion, were just as many sharks. It was a myth that sharks and dolphins didn't swim in the same area but seeing such a massive mixture did seem unusual. A couple of grey dolphins broke off the main group, chirping as they came. One of them grabbed up a bit of floating seaweed as it passed by. The man slowed and stopped the vehicle.

The dolphins raced straight for him, and the man gave each a rub down their side from head to tail for their efforts. The mammals warbled and whistled to themselves and to him. He smiled at them, his eyes bright. The man chirped to the dolphins so perfectly Sonora didn't realize it was him until she looked at him, and her eyes widened.

The mammals turned their curious attention to her. Swimming back and forth a few times, they eyed Sonora as they talked. She giggled when they bumped their noses to her and tentatively reached out to pet their smooth, shiny skin. One dolphin threw its seaweed to the man, and for a few minutes, a game of fetch ensued between the man and the animals. Eventually, he whistled, and they raced back to their pod.

Sonora found the whole exchanged interesting. These weren't the first sea animals they had passed. The man hadn't stopped for the others. He knew these dolphins and treated them almost like pets.

He restarted his vehicle, and it seemed like they barely moved before he pointed again and said, "Look!"

The booming, all-encompassing sound moved through the water and Sonora. She trembled and jumped off the bike. It took a moment for him to respond, it'd happened so quick. Once Sonora was away from him, she didn't stop. She swam hard, her arms digging through the water, legs kicking as quick as they could. There was nowhere for her to go, but she had to try.

The two dolphins raced by her, stopping in front of her. When Sonora stopped and turned, she saw sharks patrolling behind her. A chill rushed through her. The friendly dolphins stared at her. There was no happy chatter now. They were as silent as the sharks they kept company with. Sonora had been wrong. These were not playmates, they were watchdogs.

The man uttered a couple of sharp whistles, and the dolphins happily swam away as if it had all been part of the game. Even the sharks meandered off. He grabbed the back of her air tank and swung her back to the seat in front of him.

The ease with which he'd recaptured her was irritating, and she huffed. Air bubbles puffed out of her regulator into his face. She wished he was getting more than air bubbles. Sonora scowled at him, ignoring his rueful face as she pushed his hand away from hers. He was such a big, evil man. Oh wow, she needed to get better at insults. And he needed to stop talking to her underwater! It freaked her out.

He ignored Sonora's annoyance and engaged the bike again. The dolphins and sharks started to follow them, and Sonora shrunk back against the man. Anger at herself flared. He wasn't her protector. He was her kidnapper. But as much as she wanted to think him as evil, she somehow instinctively knew he was not.

The man's arm came around her as he pointed ahead once again.

In the distance, Sonora saw lights. Not just a few lights as if there were another underwater vehicle but hundreds. She saw hundreds of lights.

Nine

Abominations

Chapter Nine

On land, a dark-haired man stood in the back of the truck, watching without emotion as the body awkwardly rolled out of the truck bed, flopping onto the ground below. He jumped down, following the body out, giving it another hard kick with the toe of his boot to send it over the sharp edge of the cliff.

The blackness of his clothing matched the darkness of the night. An ugly twist settled on his mouth as he wondered why he had bothered trying to be inconspicuous. Everyone in this town was so dense, he could have lined them up for the show, and they still wouldn't have known what was going on.

He walked to the ledge and stood, looking down on the open ocean below, the bright moon now illuminating both him and the water. His face was calm, though interested as he watched the body bounce against the rocky cliff here and there, disturbing the soil, where it hit.

Small rocks and stones fell along with the body, some going ahead of it and some pelting it as they fell. At last, the body hit the water, making what seemed like a small splash from this great height. It took a moment to resurface, then immediately moved with the rhythm of the water as the tide made its way out to the deeper, darker ocean.

The dark-haired man turned and closed the tailgate of the black truck, pulling on it once to make sure it was secure before he got in the driver's side. Once in the cab, he pulled at the rear-view mirror, aligning it so he could make sure his dark hair was still in place. It was windy along the sea today, and he didn't want to appear tousled when he arrived at home.

He put the truck in gear and drove with care down the walking path. Though they had not made it for a vehicle, it was broad enough for one, and the man had always considered it the best way to dispose of the bodies.

He would've liked more time with this one. After all this time, he’d been onto something that could help humankind. He shook his head. It seemed no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find what he needed.

The man's jaw tightened, and his lip curled. Abominations are what he called them, and he loathed them. His disgust for their kind ran deep, and he was sure any atrocities he committed against them were not only acceptable but also justified.

After all, they weren't human; even they didn't deny that. If just one of them would admit what they really were… but no, they believed they were better, stronger, and smarter than men.

His breath became raspy as his hands tightened in anger, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel as he recalled their arrogance. He'd worked his whole life to show them who the superior species was, and yet, they were moronic enough, they still didn't grasp the situation.

How many bodies did it take?

Each body was a message, a warning for the rest of their kind. A message that said, we are still here, and we are coming for you.

He imagined them finding this one. By the time it reached them, he wondered how much would be left and if they would recognize who it was. He hoped so. He hoped the tattoo was still intact when it got there.

His jaw was so tight, his teeth ground together. He wanted them to know.

His emotions steadied as he drove onto the road and reached into his pocket for a list of groceries his wife gave him that morning. He held the note up and scanned it as he drove, recognizing the items as the ingredients in his favorite dinner. His stomach growled as if eager for his first taste of it.

His wife often did small things to make his life easier and more enjoyable, and he appreciated her efforts. He did his best to make sure she understood just how grateful he was that she even tried—so many wives didn't anymore.

Yes, he always made sure she knew just how much he appreciated her, whether she liked it or not.

Ten

Lights

Chapter Ten

Sonora leaned over the front of the bike. How could there be so many lights? A science compound? He was a scientist then! That could explain a lot. But a kidnapping scientist? Sonora huffed. A million things had gone through her mind while being dragged from her side of the ocean to his. She didn't know what she had expected, but she knew it hadn't been this.

As they got closer she stood, trying to take it all in until the man put a hand to her waist and pulled Sonora back to the seat. With wide eyes over the wonder of what she saw, Sonora turned to look at him only to see his happy grin. She pointed at the city, glancing at it and back at him. The man nodded and chuckled.

Sonora turned back to the city, leaning as far forward as he would let her. It was like a snow globe, a giant beautiful snow globe. A delicate latticework grid made up the dome and sparkled like gold, allowing water to pass through the lattice.

They passed through the front gate which had a filigree so fine Sonora wondered how it stood, yet it took two strong men to open it. The metal on the gate made a vine pattern shining silver with various colored stones. Sonora blinked. Could they be precious gems?

Sonora's eyes darted so quickly she felt dizzy. A large town or a small city? Who cared? There were short and tall buildings of every color of the sea, round and square sitting hodgepodge side by side along narrow roads, but they fit together seamlessly. Sonora's gaze lifted to the highest one, a tower that rose above them all, keeping watch, she imagined. When the pod of what Sonora would now call watch-fish swam up to it and whistled for a treat, she knew she was right.

The whole place had an old-world feel to it; like it was a colorful, historic European city lost at sea. Though to say it was an old-world England or France would have been wrong because there was an overall look unique to itself.

Sonora's eyes sparkled as she traced the upside-down waterfalls of small bubbles racing out of the homes like chimney smoke only to drift around the enclosure until they burst at the top wherever they hit a bar in the grid.

People were out. Some swimming, others in various water vehicles. Most gave the man a friendly wave, and Sonora a curious stare. As if she wouldn't have known by their size, none of them wore a regulator, leaving no doubt this was truly a city of his people. One man like him was quite enough, she wasn't sure she could handle a whole town.

But her nerves started to fade, making way for curiosity, but they now came back full force. The man pulled over at the base of the tallest tower, stopped the bike and gestured for her to follow him. Sonora gulped. There was nowhere to run, or swim rather, now. She trailed behind him, her heart thumping in her chest. Sonora looked up at the tall building. Was this his home?

When Sonora slowed, the man turned and waved her forward, taking her hand. Sonora huffed. This man would pull her through the whole ocean like a disobedient child.

Neighbors looked on, some with amusement, some with what seemed like disgust. Was kidnapping that frequent that they gave it this little reaction? Maybe one of the people who'd had an adverse reaction would help her.

When they got past the light-blue outer wall of the building, the man pulled Sonora in front of him and gave her a small push. She started to float upward, then broke the surface of the water.

Looking down, Sonora saw him hanging back, most likely to give her some space in the narrow tube. She scoffed. He was so big he probably just about jammed it up.

Sonora lifted her head from the water and scanned the inside of the building. It was a living space, a masculine living room reminiscent of something between Jules Verne and upper-class Titanic.

Sonora started to pull off her face-mask and stopped. She shook her head. But he had to have sent her up because it was oxygen. Sonora pushed her goggles up and spit out her regulator, taking a small breath. Yes, oxygen. She shook off her tank and vest, hopped up on the floor and dragged her gear up onto the tile too.

She crouched on the floor beside the water portal. He was coming.

Sonora scrambled backward, the wet floor working against her as she did so. She fell once before gaining traction.

It took the man only a second to hoist himself up onto the floor. While some would have appreciated the show of rippling muscle as he did so, Sonora felt the threat in it.

Eleven

Questions

Chapter Eleven

Sonora gasped and continued backing up until she smacked into a wall behind her. It put a sizable space between them, but it still wasn't enough. "Stay away from me! Don't touch me!" Her frightened voice sounded loud in the quiet room.

When the man spoke, his voice was deep and as fluid as the water surrounding them. He had a touch of accent Sonora couldn't identify. "I will not touch you if you do not want."

"I don't want! Do you hear me? I don't want!" She held her hands out in front of her as she backed further away.

He raised his hands in surrender. "I hear you.”

Sonora held one hand up to keep the man at bay. Her shoulders lost some of their tension as she demanded answers to the questions that had tumbled through her mind since she'd woken up on the ocean floor. "Who are you, and what is this place?"

"My name is Caspian, though most call me Ian." He threw out his hand. "And this is my home."

Sonora sighed as she took in the two overstuffed chairs calling to her tired body. Floor to ceiling wooden shelves lined panel walls on both sides of a huge antique inlaid wood desk, haphazardly organized with books and mementos she itched to explore.

Further into the room sitting past two marble columns, an iron chandelier hung over an equally antique dining room table and chairs. Everything in here had aged beautifully, and even Sonora's inexperienced eye told her each piece would be worth thousands of dollars in her hometown.

Sonora dismissed it all. She wanted answers. "Why did you bring me here?"

"You needed help."

"You need help, kidnapping people like that. Nice people don't do that!"

Although Sonora waited for an answer, Ian stood there without an argument either way. She continued, "You can't just keep me here, you know. I have a family. They will be looking for me."

"I know." Ian studied her as he rubbed his stubbled chin. "That isn't usually a problem."

Sonora's eyes grew wide. "Not usually a problem? Like when you've kidnapped all the other girls?"

In an instant a scowl covered Ian’s face. He stepped toward Sonora and barked, "I haven’t—“

Sonora's gaze darted around the room, looking for somewhere to run. There was only the portal to the water. She threw her hand up as she stared dismally at it. She wouldn't last five minutes out there.

Ian shook his head and moved back to where he'd been. "I have kidnapped no other girls."

"Oh, so it's just me?" Sonora crossed her arms. "I mean, you had a regulator and tank which you clearly don't need so…"

Ian sighed. "Yes, it's just you."

"Why?"

Ian shook his head and clamped his jaw shut.

Sonora's voice trembled. "You could've just taken me to the surface. Instead, you dragged me all the way here. Wherever here is. So I ask again, why did you bring me here?"

"I did not mean to." Ian hesitated. "Not today. Not like this." He reached out a hand trying to bridge the space between them but dropped it when Sonora flinched away. She swiped at the tears threatening to fall. Ian turned to a large picture window looking over the small city in the deep ocean. "I think that is something we should discuss later."

Sonora stiffened. "No, I want to know now. Why did you bring me here?"

Ian shot an intense grey-eyed look over his shoulder. One meant to break her insistence. Sonora shuddered, sure that it had stopped more than one man in his tracks. She looked at the floor before glancing back up the man. His gaze softened as it lingered on her.

Sonora blushed. If he thought anything would happen between them, he was dead wrong.

Eyes still trained on Sonora, Ian said, "My people, unlike yours, do not lie. So I can tell you the answer, but you are not ready. And I do not think you will like it."

Sonora raised a hand to her stomach. Why couldn’t she look away from this man? His boldness almost took her breath away. When Ian returned his gaze to the ocean, Sonora blew out a sigh of relief.

She'd read that it was good to tell your kidnapper about yourself. It seemed like he was eager to talk, so that's what she'd do. But for both their sake's she changed her line of questioning.

"This is your home. Are all those out there also homes?" Sonora took a couple steps to the side and pointed out the window where warm-colored lamps lit up the streets and buildings.

Ian’s relief at the change of topic was clear as he eagerly answered her question. "Homes, government buildings, play areas for children, similar to what you have."

"Are you scientists then? Like a community of scientists?"

Ian chuckled. "No, not scientists."

Sonora moved to run her hand down his beautifully crafted wood desk. It was old, so old she had never seen anything like it other than the movies.

"Where did you get your beautiful furniture?"

"From your junk."

Sonora raised a brow, scanning the room. "All this?"

"Yes, all of this." Ian gestured to the other homes. "All of us. You throw out a lot. We salvage and take care of it. These furnishings can almost last forever if you take care of them."

Sonora frowned. "Why do you keep saying 'you' and 'us’?”

"We aren't from the air."

"The air?"

"Up there. Land."

Sonora stumbled over her words. Did he mean what she thought he meant? "So you—all of you—have always lived here?"

"Yes, for generations."

Sonora put a hand to her cheek. "Are you... human?"

"Pretty much, though most hate to admit it."

"Pretty much? What does that mean? Do you have gills? Do you grow a tail?" Sonora's eyes roamed over him, looking for any signs she may have missed.

Ian looked offended. "Who do you think I am? The little mermaid?"

Sonora gasped, and she took two small steps toward him. "You know about the little mermaid?"

A small smile played on his lips. "Where do you think she came from?"

Sonora's mind reeled. Could the little mermaid actually be real? For some reason, this gave her real joy. She started to ask another question but he interrupted, "How about food? I am always hungry."

Sonora looked up at him. A man that size, she bet he was. He probably never stopped eating.

He turned toward the dining room. "Are you hungry? I think you need something to eat."

Sonora sputtered, "No, I don't want something to eat. I have, like, a zillion questions. And I can decide for myself when I'm hungry."

He stopped and sent his eyes upward. "Two."

"Two what?" Her eyes wrinkled in confusion.

He folded his arms. "Two more questions, and then we eat."

"You're just hungry and want to eat. I'm fine. I want answers is what I want." Sonora huffed and took a couple of steps closer to him.

"You are quite insistent for such a small one," he said, taking a step of his own.

"I'm not that small! Not for—for Air people. You're just overgrown."

Ian laughed. "We do not call you Air people. We call you humans."

Sonora put a hand on her hip and tipped her head. "Well, that seems rather strange as you just told me you are human too."

Ian scowled. "We are better than human."

"Better? Okay. Wow." It was hard to know what to say to such blatant prejudice.

Ian looked uncomfortable for a moment before grabbing her hand. "Come eat."

Sonora reeled back, pulling away from him. "Hey, no touching! Remember the no touching!"

Ian dropped her hand. Still unsure of him, Sonora backed up and returned to her original spot. "I'm not hungry, I want—“ she stopped as her stomach interrupted her with a loud growl.

Twelve

Tell Me About

Chapter Twelve

A smile lit up Ian's face. "Fine then, we eat now." He turned toward the kitchen. His stomach had been protesting since before they arrived home.

"Hey!" The girl rushed after Ian and stopped for a moment at the archway, scanning the room. Ian watched her. Much would seem familiar, but some were unique to his culture.

Her gaze zeroed in on him. "Two more questions!"

Ian sighed, he'd hoped she would forget. He looked longingly at the food-keeper. Having a woman would be an adjustment. Yet, Ian was happy, so happy, that her big blue eyes weren't still filled with tears. It had crushed him, knowing she must be terrified. Ian hadn't meant to steal her away today. His plan had been to somehow slowly woo her. But the rogue wave came, and the oxygen tank was there, and she needed it. Then somehow it was all done. The woman stayed strong through it all, and it warmed him to her. She belonged here. Ian smiled, giving his permission. "Two more."

She blinked, then asked, "So, you live here full time?"

"Full time? My entire life? Yes, I was born here." Maybe if he kept his answers short, this wouldn't take so long.

"Wow, born here." The woman peered out the window into the ocean. "But you have been above the water, right? You go up there too?"

"Yes, I have." Ian clapped his hands and moved further into the kitchen. There, that was done.

She protested. "Hey wait, I didn't mean for that to be my second question!"

Ian spun around, and she smacked into his chest. She gave a little squeak, then turned and ran back the way she'd come.

Concern overcame Ian. "I will not hurt you. I would never hurt you."

The young woman crossed her arms as she eyed him as if unsure that was the case, "Oh yeah, well, out there..."

Ian quickly considered the past few hours. Yes, she was delicate, but he had been careful with her. He looked her over. There were no bruises, but she was still afraid of him. "Did I hurt you?"

Her gaze drifted away, then back, her face full of suspicion. "No…"

Ian ignored the doubtful face, instead playing the dutiful host. "What would satisfy you? Lobster, swordfish?"

The girl’s face scrunched in horror. "You eat them? They are part of your, well—world!" She moved her hand in a circle. "Don't you have a, I don't know, a kinship with them?"

Ian chuckled. She amused him. "You have some peculiar notions. Do you have a kinship with cows and chickens?"

"Oh, yeah. Uh, I get it." She turned away as her face pinked. "Well. I guess lobster?"

As Ian started cooking, the woman hovered. He had hoped by now she would offer her name, but he she was still far from being comfortable. Although intensely curious about what Ian did, she made sure to stay outside of his reach.

Ian continued cooking and watched from the corner of his eye as she became bolder, picking up and examining food and tools he'd set on the counter. A device for shelling crustaceans piqued the girl’s immense curiosity, but it was dangerous when not used properly. When she reached for the item, Ian blocked her and gently pushed her hand away. The contact startled her, and she withdrew back to hovering in the background.

Even though Ian gave her a demonstration on how to use the tool, she stayed away from him. Ian's chest tightened as he glanced at her. Clearly, the woman felt nothing for him yet. He pushed a hand through his hair before washing his hands to start the next dish. "How about a sea vegetable salad?"

That piqued her interest. The woman’s blue eyes brightened. "Sure."

Ian set new items on the counter, and she couldn't resist her curiosity. Soon, she stood right beside him again, and Ian chuckled.

She glanced at Ian. "Does everything I do amuse you?"

"Not everything, but you can be entertaining."

Ian handed her some sea lettuce and asked if she would like to prepare it. She nodded and took it from him, tearing it and adding it to each of their bowls.

Ian studied her, taken by his Jata Ara’s small feminine gestures as she went about her work. Her blond hair spilled down her back, swinging slightly with her movements. Though she still feared him, every so often she would turn her bright eyes toward his face. Ian almost forgot where he was when she did that.

Her beauty captivated Ian from the beginning, but now, talking with her, he could see why she was meant for him. Her personality brought out the better parts of his, as it should be. Ian let his gaze fall. Of course, she may not see it that way.

Glancing up at him, she asked, "Do you want me to cut up the lobster?"

Ian looked from her to the knives and back. There were many reasons not to give her a weapon. One being her overeager stare at the little blade. Ian gave a wry smile. "I think not."

His Jata Ara’s mouth twisted in disappointment before she said, "So, tell me about her."

Ian raised an eyebrow. Her? There was only one her they had talked about. "The little mermaid?" He sighed, wondering at human's fascination with the story. "Not much of your story of the Little Mermaid is true. She was like me. Us. Here." He raised his hand and made a little circle with his knife, indicating his city. "The mermaid part of your story is not true, nor is much of the rest. But she did like to sing. She fell in love with a human and went to live with him on land. But where you see it as romantic, we see it as a cautionary tale."

"Oh," she said a bit deflated. "What do you call you, us, here?" She made the same circular motion with her finger.

"Atlantian. This is Atlantis." Ian's chest swelled with pride at the words.

The woman was silent for a moment before saying, "Atlantis is a myth."

"No, it is not. This is Atlantis." Ian watched her reaction. They had allowed him to tell a few humans their secret while on missions. The responses had always been interesting.

"Like the real Atlantis, the lost mystical city? The one that sunk into the sea?" The woman was first incredulous, then her eyes narrowed.

"Yes, though it is more like built in the sea.”

"But how... how could that be? I mean..." She flopped one of her hands.

"Let us discuss it as we dine," Ian said, somewhat formally as he finished filling the bowls. His Jata Ara could ask all the questions she wanted as long as he was moving food from the plate into his mouth as she did it.

Thirteen

And Your Name Is?

Chapter Thirteen

Sonora took one last glance at the room. A pristine white kitchen, and a treat to explore. If only she weren't here under these circumstances. The repurposed cabinetry fit the left side of the room and looked magnificent. Each end of the wall boasted floor to ceiling cabinets, not so hard for a six-and-a-half-foot man to reach and in between laid a countertop. Real china plates and bowls sat on open shelves above the counter.

The colorful countertop looked crafted from small pieces of tile, but when she ran a finger over the surface, it felt smooth as silk. Ian chopped all over it with what seemed like a very sharp knife, though she wouldn't know because he wouldn't let her touch it. So, the surface was somehow resistant to cut marks.

Ian had pulled all the food out of a huge cold drawer under the countertop and heated dishes in a machine similar in looks and cooking time to a microwave except that heat came from it. Sonora made a note to explore those later.

Her stomach growled again, and she slapped a hand against it. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

Ian glanced at her as he drizzled a light sauce over the steaming lobster he'd placed in a communal bowl. "I understand. We both need a meal."

He handed Sonora two mugs of ice water and gathered up the dishes himself before walking into the dining room.

Sonora rolled her eyes behind Ian's back. He expected her to follow him like an obedient captive, she supposed. But what else was she supposed to do? She was starving and stuck who knew how far down in this sea. She needed to eat.

Sonora stopped behind Ian as he laid out the bowls of salad and lobster. She scanned his body from his feet to the top of his head. Definitely a tall guy, he seemed even bigger than when in the water. Sonora was on the tall side for a woman at five-foot-seven-inches and he stood a foot taller than that. It intimidated her.

Ian turned and indicated she should set the mugs down while he went back into the kitchen for utensils. The ice clinked against the side of the decorated ceramic cups as she placed one by each of the salad bowls. The plate holding the lobster sat between them. Apparently, they shared.

Once Ian came back, he rushed to pull out a chair for Sonora, standing behind it as he waited for her to sit. Sonora had only been in this situation a few times in her life, and it seemed awkward. She moved to sit and hesitated until Ian gestured for her to continue.

His gentlemanly manners surprised and confused her, given how she got here. Where were those manners out there, in the sea, when he had literally dragged her from home? And she still had no answer as to why he had done that. She glanced out the big picture window as if it would give her answers. Instead, she saw an unfamiliar place, one she could only have dreamed of. How was this possible? A whole town here with beautiful houses and organized walkways, or perhaps swimways? There were people, lots of people, she thought as she noticed many moving through the water, and we never knew this existed?

Ian caught Sonora’s attention when he laid her silverware beside her. A spoon, a little bigger than she would've liked, and a fork. A handle just as long as she had at home but topped with only three prongs like a miniature triton. Sonora almost choked on her amusement as she glanced at Ian. Was it a joke? But the man seemed serious as he moved to his own seat.

Her gaze lingered. Polite, charming, and well, hot. If she'd met Ian somewhere else, in some different way, he was a man she would've wanted to get to know better. But now she couldn't. Sonora couldn't take away the considerably unnerving thought he had brought her here against her will. And the question of what he would do if she tried to make a run for it. No matter how mannerly he was now, he had a lot to answer for. Still, against her own better judgment, she found that while she continued to be on guard, for some reason, she was finding herself less and less afraid of him.

Sonora reminded herself that he'd creeped on her. He hadn't needed to bring her here. He could have been that cute guy who saved her butt and walked into the sunset. But he didn't do that, and he wasn't telling her why. So, she couldn't trust him. He was scary, and that was the way it would stay.

Sonora wiggled herself a little straighter after her internal pep talk. The chair's silky material under her legs, reminded her that she still only wore her swimsuit. Shocked she just noticed, she hunched over and put an arm across her bare belly.

Instantly, Ian asked, "What is wrong?"

Sonora startled at Ian's deep voice. Should she tell him? But he was her only source of, well, anything. It was him she had to ask, even if it was just for a towel. "I feel… I need some clothes. I hadn't remembered I only had on my swimsuit."

"Oh, yes. I forgot you humans prefer more clothing than we do." Ian stood, utterly comfortable at dinner in his swimming trunks. Was she making too much out of this?

Ian bowed his head to her. "Excuse me for a moment."

Sonora caught herself in a smile. His manners sometimes seemed as antique as the furniture he collected. Was that the way with all Atlantians? The whole place was becoming more and more intriguing to her.

With the aroma of dinner literally in her face, Sonora's stomach almost burned. Was it considered poor manners if she took a quick bite of lobster? As Ian walked to the living room, Sonora peeled a bit away and popped it into her mouth. It deliciously melted away, leaving her uttering a low, "Yum!"

Unable to hold off, Sonora took another forkful of the tasty meal. She eagerly chewed the lobster for a moment, then come to a complete stop, swallowing hard as she watched Ian.

He tapped his cheek then spoke in a musical language that Sonora didn't understand. It was a reminder that English was not his native language. She narrowed her eyes. What was the man doing talking to himself? An idea flashed through her mind.

Ian turned back to the dining room but didn't make it before Sonora jumped from her chair, meeting him on his way back. Pep talk forgotten, her eyes were alight with curiosity. Sonora grabbed Ian's hand and pulled it down, examining it. She put a hand to his face, lightly running her fingers over his cheek and jaw. "What did you do? What did you do there?"

Confusion covered Ian's face as he put his hand over hers. "I did nothing—“

"What," she repeated. Not finding anything on Ian's cheek, Sonora slid her other hand over his, turning it in hers again. "did you do?"

Ian's expression cleared. "Ah, I talked to my father." He laughed.

Sonora shook her head. "Stop laughing at me and explain. Explain how."

Though his gaze continued to dance with amusement, he sobered. "Yes, ma'am. It is an implant, something like, say a... cell phone."

"No, no way!" Sonora's pulse raced in excitement. "I didn't think those were out yet. Just, you know, in the movies."

"I don't know where they are in your world, but in mine, we have had them for a long time. Our technology is far more advanced than humans."

Sonora ignored the look of distaste that came over his face every time he uttered the word humans and concentrated on the technology. "How far advanced?" Comprehension burst and she almost danced on her raised toes. "Is this also how you talk underwater?"

"Yes."

“Does it go from here to land?”

“Not really. If we are very close to the shore perhaps.”

A knock sounded, and Sonora's heels hit the floor. Ian walked toward a door Sonora hadn't noticed before. She followed him. Her curiosity was already at an all-time high. She wanted to see another Atlantian up close. And maybe they would help her.

Ian opened the door to a man that bore a resemblance to him, perhaps an older brother or a cousin. Ian tipped his head toward the man and said, "Jorah, my father."

Sonora's mouth dropped. "Your father?" She turned to Jorah and smiled. "You look as young as your son. It's nice to meet you."

Jorah's manner was stiff. "And your name is?"

Sonora's cheeks pinked, and she glanced at Ian. She'd clearly committed a social blunder. Of course, she might have had a few others, but Ian hadn't told her. "Sonora. It's Sonora, but my nickname is Sunny."

Ian beamed. "Sunny. That is perfect."

Jorah gave Ian a disapproving glance. Then he said in somehow the most polite, and yet, insulting way, "Sonora, excuse me. I must speak to Caspian.”

Not letting Jorah's demeanor stop her, she threw an uneasy look at Ian. "Speaking of your son, I'm here against my will."

Jorah looked from her to Ian and back again. "I believe you are right where you need to be, no matter how any of us feels about it. Now I apologize, but this is urgent." Jorah put his arm around Ian and turned him away from Sonora, leaving her gaping at him. Jorah said a few sentences to Ian in Atlantian, shoved a container into his son's arms and strode away.

What did he mean? She was where she belonged? Sonora watched Jorah march down the hallway. She guessed she should be happy it wasn’t Ian's dear old dad who kidnapped her. Ian was a teddy bear compared to him.

Sonora peered down the corridor. Where did this lead?

Ian’s fingers wrapped around her arm, and Sonora looked up at him. His face seemed like thunder, causing her heart to batter against her ribs. She tried to back away from him. "I'm sorry. I had to try! You know I had to try!"

Ian's voice was gruff, angry. "What?"

Sonora trembled. She was at this man's mercy, there was no doubt about that now. "I'm sorry,” she said. “but I'm not sorry."

Ian's face softened, and he put a hand to her hair. "Sunny, do not worry, it is not you I am angry with." He handed her the box Jorah brought. "Here, my father brought you these clothes from my sisters."

Sonora looked down at the floral-covered box. "Something's wrong. If it's not me, what is it?"

Ian practically spat out the word. "Humans." This time there was more than distaste, this time there was hatred.

Fourteen

That Rage

Chapter Fourteen

"Atlantians." The dark-haired man hissed the word, hatred lacing his voice. He slammed his office phone against its cradle, producing the unsatisfactory sound of plastic smacking plastic. His men were on the trail of another one, but he had slipped away, literally, into the sea the day before. The dark-haired man ordered his goons to watch and see if the Atlantian resurfaced, but so far the creature hadn’t ventured from the water.

The man drummed his fingers on the desk pad as he looked around his pristine office. Ever since he was a boy, he had been neat. In fact, if you asked his mother, she would say he straightened the delivery room the minute he was born. Whether a natural personality trait or compulsive behavior, he didn't know or care. The dark-haired man only knew that he felt truly at rest when his world was in order.

Orderliness helped him in his work and made him what he was. The dark-haired man was not only a scientist but also analyzed the results of his data. He decided which experiment would be done on which Atlantian, watched the creatures squirm as they were performed, and determined when each abomination was no longer of any use to him. A light gleamed in the dark-haired man's eyes as he remembered the last specimen he'd pushed off the cliff. He took joy in it all.

His orderly mind required a clean, almost spare look, so his office contained only two colors. Black and white. The interior decorator tried, quite insistently, to get him to add a third color for what she called pop, but the dark-haired man held his ground. The decorator left very displeased, but he felt quite satisfied with the completed room.

His gaze caught on a canvas that hung on the wall directly across from his desk. White background, black city. He squinted at it for a moment before getting up and walking to it. He tapped the bottom corner, moving the frame the tiniest fraction of an inch. Most people wouldn't have noticed the difference, but he did. He nodded and sat back down behind his large, black desk.

He needed another specimen. With so much left to do, he didn't enjoy having downtime. Perhaps some refrigerated samples could be used in the tests run today, but that would only last so long. The dark-haired man rose and headed out to the hallway, waving happily to the other employees in the area. One had to keep up appearances.

This part of the building held the work the others expected, the work he would show to the public. His black and white office, as well as the dark-haired man's public lab area, was here. His second research area, completely separate and hidden from passersby, was where his real work took place.

Turning toward the restroom area, the familiar floor to ceiling dark blue cartoon whale floated on the back wall. He once again congratulated himself on his inventiveness. In the darkest blue shade, a door hid in plain sight. The dark-haired man turned the handle and stepped into what would seem to any snoop to be only a broom closet. He pushed on the rear wall, causing the panel to move.

That door led to an old abandoned area. Most other employees thought it no longer used and cut off from the rest of the building, but he had created a way in.

The man took the dimly lit hallway marked 'Labs' and passed dark, dusty offices until he found the room he was looking for. He turned and flipped the light switch, going straight to the refrigerator and pulling out the samples on work today.

Every day he squeezed in some time here. He had one goal in mind, the betterment of humankind. As much as the dark-haired man hated it, those abominations were healthier than humans. They were stronger, had fewer physical defects, and lived longer. If he could find some way to use what they had to help humans, maybe what he went through would be worth it.

His thoughts drifted back to the first time he had sworn the sea creatures would suffer for what they did. Just a boy, he sat at the funeral of his parents sobbing. The story of their death swirled through the adults standing over him. A freak accident by a crazed man, but he knew better. He'd been there.

The man had plowed through their house. He had been tall and abnormally strong, but the thing most remarkable was his rage. It burned so hot it destroyed everyone around him. That rage and the tattoo running over his arm were seared in the boy's memory. He'd come for the boy's father, tracking him from the sea. The tattooed man bellowed his father's name as he raced at him and whispered it as his father lay dying.

The boy's mother, in her fear and grief, picked up a kitchen knife and came at the tattooed man. Still drinking in the sight of the broken body he had created, he tossed his arm. The boy's mother flew across the room. There was a crack and her neck twisted as she hit the wall.

The boy had stood frozen in place. The big man continued to stare at his father. Would the tattooed man come for him next? When the man rose, he turned to the boy, his eyes red and wild. Trembling, the boy jerked back.

The strange man took a step toward him, then stopped. He turned and rushed out of the house and into the dark night.

The dark-haired man ground his teeth and pushed the memories away.

Letting him live was the tattooed man's first mistake. He would make many more over the years.

On that day, the boy made a vow. He would track down the tattooed man. He would make him pay. As a young man, the dark-haired man now older and fully comprehending the meaning of his vow, renewed it.

He searched and found, not one man, but an entire race of men. Atlantians. Some sort of freakish mutation. With the help of his uncle, the dark-haired man saw the abomination’s nature. He was both disgusted and intrigued. Once the higher-ups allowed him access, he used their DNA, working to eradicate disease and so much more in humans.

Years went by, and he found out the tattooed man had suffered. With that revenge stolen from him, the man used others to release his pent-up vengeance. Yet when it came to the science, he hadn't been as successful as he hoped. Every move forward was blocked, and there were few other avenues left to try.

The time would soon come when the Atlantian research concluded, then what would he do about any others that still existed? The dark-haired man needed them gone from the face of the earth. Because humans were the top of the food chain, the rulers of the world. He wouldn't let those vermin take over. Only with the extermination of all Atlantians would all be right again.

The dark-haired man grabbed the phone, his hand so tight around it, the plastic protested. He needed to talk with the higher-ups. It was time to devise a plan.

Fifteen

Murder

Chapter Fifteen

Ian pushed his fingers through his hair. Another Atlantian found in pieces. Though more of an acquaintance than a friend this time, each loss was personal. In Atlantis, everyone was a close companion or a friend or family member of one.

Ian sat the box of clothing on the table and pulled off the cover. A folded wrap lay on top. He picked it up and shook it out, raising an eyebrow at Sunny. She reached for it with a smile and started to put it on.

Ian put a hand on her arm and stopped her. "You are wounded."

Sunny reached around herself as far as she could, lightly touching the scrape on her back. She winced. "Oh, it's fine, I just scraped my back on a bit of coral." Ian grabbed her hand and pulled her into the kitchen. Sunny yanked back. "It can wait until we are done eating."

Ian ignored Sunny’s puny attempts to stop him. He scowled at her. "One does not put off treating wounds, Sunny, especially in the sea. Now stop." Ian worked to calm himself when Sunny repeatedly threw him nervous glances. It wasn't her fault another Atlantian was dead. He'd practically growled at her, and just when she'd begun to be at ease with him. "I apologize for my tone. My only desire is to make sure it is taken care of properly."

Sunny said nothing, just nodded quickly several times. Ian sighed. More damage he'd need to repair.

He halted in front of a cupboard. Turning Sonora away from him, he held her slim waist with one hand as he ordered her to stay still. Ian's gaze traveled from Sunny’s bowed head to the hand he pressed against her. He had thought this would be a simple matter of slapping some antiseptic on her but touching Sunny like this… the flame between them stirred. Ian’s frown deepened as he pulled in a quick breath.

* * *

Sonora shot another glance at Ian and stopped fighting him. It was easy to see he was in no mood for it. Whatever his father had told him hadn't been good.

Ian stood behind her. She heard the hitch in his breath, felt the weight of his hand. Her heart thumped.

Ian let go of her to pull the wrap back enough to reveal the wound. The light material tickled her skin. He planted one palm on Sonora's upper back to hold the cover in place and reached above and over her into a cabinet for salve.

He smelled so good. Like sea salt and sunshine. Sonora's heart thumped again.

With gentle fingers, he smoothed the salve over her injury. Still, Sonora hissed and shifted forward. Ian murmured soft words in Atlantian. Sonora may not have understood the language, but the intent was clear. He was reassuring her.

Ian's hand grazed across her back to her shoulder. He pulled her toward him. Once he finished caring for the scrape, Ian released Sonora allowing the wrap to fall and cover her again. He took her arm and slowly spun her around to face him. "Is that better?"

Sonora couldn't deny that whatever he'd put on it was already taking away the sting. "Yes, it is. Thank you." Sonora stepped away from him and tied her wrap, berating herself for her breathlessness. "Come on, we should eat now. You haven't had a single bite."

She turned and rushed to the dining room, plopping herself into her chair. Ian's long stride had him on her heels. He sat, not touching his food. Sonora looked at his downcast face and cleared her throat. "I have to confess that I nibbled at the food while you were on the… the phone. I hope I didn't commit any huge social blunder."

When she didn't get a chuckle, just a glance, and the slightest nod, Sonora ventured to ask, "Your father had bad news?"

Ian's expression darkened, and Sonora bit her lip. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything.

Ian ran a hand over his face. "Someone murdered one of us."

"What? That's horrible. I'm so, so sorry!" Sonora's hand reached for Ian's arm to comfort him. It surprised her when she saw it there, but she left it.

"Humans." Ian's low rumble was filled with grief and anger. "Humans murdered him."

"How do you know who killed him?"

Every muscle of Ian’s tightened as he explained, "They make it clear. They have done it before, murdered others, tried to kill me. Our clansman came to us like all the others have. In pieces."

Sonora's hand flew to cover her mouth. Why would someone do something like that?

Ian put a hand to Sonora's shoulder. "I do not want to discuss this further."

She nodded as her teeth clamped on her bottom lip to stop her questions. Of course, why would Ian want to? But the information stunned Sonora. Some humans did know Atlantians existed, and it seemed they were hunting them. No wonder Ian hated them. Us.

Sonora shoved a few mouthfuls of lobster into her mouth, but her mind was elsewhere. The questions kept building, but now wasn’t the time for them. But perhaps something different, something to help Ian keep his mind off his troubles.

His expression was still as dark as a thunder cloud, and Sonora nervously cleared her throat three times before she got up the nerve to speak. By then, Ian stared at her, waiting.

Sonora glanced up at him. "I was—I was thinking about Atlantis. From all the things I've ever read about Atlantis, I thought it'd be, well, nowhere near here. I mean—"

Ian cut her off with an angry wave of his hand. “Will you sit here in my house, in my city under the sea, and question me when I have told you where we are?"

Sonora's fork clattered to the plate and she pressed her back against her chair. She pressed her lips together. She shouldn't have said a word and just let him stew in his misery. It was apparently what he wanted.

Ian's gaze softened as he reached for Sonora's hand. When she yanked it away, he stared at it for a moment, then lifted his eyes to hers. "Again, I apologize. That was harsher than I intended. You must think you've stepped into a shark's lair. Please understand my current mood is not because of you."

Sonora sagged, berating herself. Did she think a change in conversation would take all his sadness away? He needed time. "No, I understand."

Ian looked out the window, then at his salad before glancing at Sonora. "We are in Atlantis. I do not lie."

Sonora nodded, but Ian continued to stare at her as if waiting for more. "I hear you. But even if it's right here in my face, I'm just having trouble believing it." When Ian shook his head, Sonora wagged a finger at him. "And don't look at me like I'm stupid. It isn't like this is an everyday conversation, you know."

Ian's face lightened. "I don't think you are stupid. Far from it, you have a great intellect, and your curiosity is so immense that when it wakes, you lose all fear. It amuses me."

A little frown appeared on Sonora's brow. She wasn't sure she liked amusing him so much. "How many people live here?"

Ian squinted out the window. "A few thousand, I am not exactly sure of the last count. We are one of the larger communities."

Sonora's eyes widened. "What? There are more?"

He nodded. "Yes, several. All over the oceans. Once we created one city, it was easy enough to create others as our people grew."

Sonora put a hand to her cheek and looked from the city to him to the city again. Ian laughed at her reaction, and this time, she joined him. It all seemed like some crazy dream. When Ian looked at her, this time she didn't look away.

Ian's eyes danced as he leaned toward Sonora and whispered, "What if I show you where it all began? How we lived when our island sunk into the sea?"

Sonora's expression lit up. "Oh, yes, please! That would be wonderful." Questions spilled from her. "Are we going out there?" She pointed at the water. "Will I see more Atlantians? Will I be safe?"

"No, maybe and yes, very safe. It's just a short walk. Nothing alarming or frightening at all."

Ian rose and held out a hand to Sonora. After a moment of indecision, she wrapped her fingers around his him.

Sixteen

The Garden

Chapter Sixteen

Ian folded Sonora's delicate hand in his large one and led her out the same door his father had knocked on. It didn't surprise him when she lingered to investigate each decoration or painting of his ancestors lining the lightly illuminated corridor. Ian smiled as he urged her along. These were things he would explain to her in time, this evening he had a particular place in mind.

Ian slowed at the cave-like entrance to the Atlantis Memorial Park. If he wanted her to understand his people, it was best to start at the beginning. Sonora slowed, seeing only the dim interior. She shot Ian a troubled glance.

It was getting easier to read her emotions, as his people could do with their Jata Ara, and Ian imagined her internal conversation. The look said it all. Why had she come out here with him? To her, he was a criminal, and just because he hadn't hurt her so far, didn't mean he wouldn't.

Ian gave Sonora the time she needed to become comfortable with the situation, encouraging her to examine the grand entrance of the park. The delicate latticework his people were known for arched in gleaming silver over and down the sides of the dark stone. Each side ended in a small waterfall whose cheery bubbling echoed lightly around them. Entwined in the metalwork were pale green vines interlaced with flowers. Aquatic blooms floated in the small pools at the bottom on either side of the archway.

Sonora ran a finger over the silver metal and smelled the flowers before she spun back to him. "It's beautiful!"

Ian was struck, dazed by Sonora's radiant, smiling face. His heart quickened. How could he have ever been disappointed in her?

Her eyebrows raised at Ian's slow response. He cleared his throat before answering. "Yes, it is. My mother had a hand in tending it."

"She does lovely work."

Ian nodded as he stepped toward Sonora. When she didn't dance away, he put one hand on her shoulder and waved her in with the other. Ian let her take the lead in the winding, stone corridor. With its rough-hewn walls and subdued lighting, it was darker than the hallway, and he wanted Sonora to feel safe.

Ian's voice echoed as he explained." These walls started as a small, cramped entrance one could only crawl through. We enlarged them long ago. Each painting hung along the walls have a story of their own. I'll share those with you another day."

Sonora nodded, flashing him a look. He knew what it meant. She was going home, and there would be no time for stories.

Ian's heart softened. She didn't know it yet, but there would be stories, their stories, and decades in which to tell them.

Ian watched Sonora's face as they walked into the central park. The water features, greenery, and flowers continued here but on a much grander scale throughout the open area. As lovely as any park one could see on land, its beauty tumbled in organized chaos across their field of vision. Flowers and ivy-draped terraces of various heights could be seen throughout the large open garden, and small trails led off to more secluded spots along the uneven walls.

Ian's gaze traveled from her long, golden hair to her full, blue eyes enhanced by the color of the thin wrap she wore. Entranced, as he knew she'd be, Sonora raised a hand to her lips and stilled like some beautiful statue.

Then she spoke, his Jata Ara breathed out his name for the first time. "Oh, Ian!"

Ian's knees weakened, and emotion almost overcame him. His name on her lips had almost undone him.

He turned away, taking Sonora's hand and leading her to a smooth-as-glass oak bench sitting on a low platform surrounded by the freshest blooms in the garden. It was here Ian wanted to start the story of his people.

Seventeen

The Beginning

Chapter Seventeen

Ian looked from the garden to Sonora. "Only a few of my people survived the great destruction. Twenty-three souls. And only because of the disobedience of a few boys.”

Sonora settled on the bench, her hand folded in her lap as she listened. ”The boys were young and had been told many times to stay close to home. But, as growing boys do, they misbehaved. Unbeknownst to their families, they would take an old boat out to sea. Some days they would fish, and others they would dive, as the clam divers of old, holding their breath for a long time under the water.”

Ian leaned to Sonora, and her eyes brightened. “While diving, they found the entrance to this place, the very place where we now sit. They would play in this cave, never knowing the vital role it would one day have in their people's survival.

"When the earthquake came, it shook the city to rubble. Those who survived knew it was not over, a tsunami roared their way. It would be massive.”

Sonora clenched her hands together, intent on Ian’s story as he continued. ”Some took to the highest buildings, but the force of the waves would topple the remaining structures. Some chose boats, many of which would be overturned. Others ran in scattered confusion. The water would soon rush over them, dragging them out to sea.”

She straightened in her seat. ”The boys grabbed the hands of those close to them and called for others to follow. Many didn't listen as the boys headed into the water, instead of away from it. They could not see a way to salvation there.

"Some did perish as they attempted to follow the boys. They were unable to hold their breath long enough to reach the entrance. But twenty-three made it. The only known survivors of Atlantis.

"The cavern easily held that many people. The air in the cave was not trapped but from a naturally occurring air shaft hidden in the island above. To their great relief, they found that rainwater flowed in small amounts down the inside of the air shaft, and they could fish. They would survive. After a while, survival became more than simply day-to-day existence, and this became their home."

Sonora looked around the room. "Why didn't they go back to land?"

"Nothing was left of their beloved city. A swamped island, unusable. No ships or boats, only debris, and no one looking for them. Within a few days, it became dangerous to venture out of the cave because death had gathered the predators.

“When it was safe and for a long time after, they sent someone up. Then they stopped. On that day, they quit looking at what was behind them and started looking at what was in front of them. It was on that day, they started to build this city.”

Eighteen

Family Fights

Chapter Eighteen

Sonora sighed in wonder. "I wouldn't believe a word of that story if I wasn't literally sitting here in the middle of it. That's amazing." She waved at the room. "This is amazing!"

Sonora stood. Unlike the others, the path to her right was marked, and she wanted to see why. It led directly to the stone wall. Atlantian writing fanned above her head, and a tall stand with a display case sat below it. The plants had been planted further away from the dais, giving it a sparser appearance than other areas. It had been done deliberately. Here the case was the focus. Sonora scanned the garden. The vast cave was a tribute to their past, and this display, the crown jewel.

And the case was empty.

Sonora turned to Ian, a question on her lips, but his demeanor had changed from the eager storyteller.

"We don't talk about that," he said through stiff lips.

"As in, you and I don't talk about it, or no one here ever talks about it?"

"You and I don't. The rest of us avoid the subject whenever possible."

Sonora swallowed an exasperated sigh. Moody men didn't really bother her. Her father had his emotional days, and her grandfather was the moodiest person she knew. The family often teased him he was the grumpiest grandpa alive. Not only could his emotions change on a dime, but they were sometimes extreme, to the point her grandfather would remove himself from his family to spare them his low spirits.

Despite that, her grandfather was also the most loving, giving person she knew, and they'd always had a special closeness. He'd often told Sonora her bright personality coaxed him into a better frame of mind.

But why did she play nice with moody Ian? Why wasn't she railing against him at every opportunity? These questions she couldn't seem to answer. Maybe because she'd fought him all the way here and gotten nowhere. Perhaps because she somehow knew, he wasn't evil. He didn't wish her harm.

As Ian moved ahead of her back to the middle of the garden, she studied him. He was clearly a confident man, and yet, there was an apology in his eyes every time he looked at her. There was hesitation in every move Ian made near her. He’d said he didn’t mean to take her, and whatever that meant, she believed him. Ian needed her for some reason. She just needed to find out why.

A movement at the park's entrance caught Sonora's eye. Three women stood there, similar enough in looks to Ian she assumed they were relatives. Though each expressed their own style, all wore mid-length dresses flowing from the waist. The gowns were sleeveless on one side, showing off their own shimmering tattoos that ran in a pattern much like Ian's.

Sonora tapped Ian's shoulder and tipped her head their way. He turned and broke into a smile. "It is my mother and sisters. I am eager for you to meet them."

Going to the oldest woman first, Ian hugged her before welcoming his sisters. Then Ian turned back to Sonora, putting a hand to her shoulder to encourage her to step forward. "Sunny, this is my mother, Aleena. My sisters Cascadia and Talise."

After the awkward encounter with his father, Sonora's voice trembled a bit as she said, "I'm pleased to meet you."

Aleena nodded, a polite expression on her face. Ian's sisters offered a guarded smile.

"I hope you are enjoying your stay here," Aleena said.

Sonora blinked. Like she'd booked a weekend vacation? She took a big breath. "Actually—"

Aleena interrupted her. "Actually, I need to speak to my son, so excuse us if we switch languages."

Sonora glanced at Ian, who shrugged and indicated it would take only a moment. Are you kidding me? They both had to have known she was going to complain about being kidnapped. She looked at the sisters, who both avoided Sonora's narrowed gaze.

* * *

Ian's eyes lingered on Sonora, who was disconcerted by his mother's rudeness. His Jata Ara kept trying to tell on him, and no one would listen. He couldn't help but find the whole situation rather, well, humorous. When Sonora's gaze sought his, Ian sobered up. It wasn't funny to her, the little lady had no idea what was going on. He would have to tell her soon. The thought terrified him.

Aleena cleared her throat to get Ian's attention and waved at his scratched face. "She had to be aware she didn't stand a chance."

Ian rubbed his face. "She realized, but she is more than she looks. She's a fighter." Ian changed the subject and asked, "Where is Father?"

"Still at the council meeting. The one about that one's people." Not to be sidetracked, Aleena complained, "You should have brought her to your family, you practically had us tracking you down."

Ian scoffed. "I live down the corridor from you, Mother. Besides, I wanted some time with her myself."

Aleena tapped her foot as her gaze scraped over Sonora. Ian's mother, usually so nurturing, was not herself. He understood, his match was enough to shake anyone.

"You were right, Mother. Of course, you all were. But I doubted, given up hope. Yet, the moment I saw her, I felt it."

"But Son," Aleena hissed, "she is human!"

"I know." He looked down for a moment and squinted. "I was disappointed at first, too. I'm not sure why it's her, but it is."

"No, Son." Aleena entreated him as she threw horrified glances at her soon-to-be-daughter-in-law. "You are mistaken, it is not possible. Remember the last Atlantian who got messed up with the human world? We are still cleaning up his mess. You are still cleaning up his mess." Aleena put a hand on Ian's shoulder. "You are attracted to her because she is different. I see your appeal. She is beautiful and dainty, and I am sure she has some kind of charm about her, but she is not for you. You need to take her back."

Ian's stomach tightened. "Mother, I have explained almost everything to her."

"She wouldn’t be able to get back here and which of those air-gobbling land-worms would believe her, anyway. Take her back." Aleena crossed her arms.

"Mother, I have respect for you as a person, as the woman who gave me life and as a Lady of our Clan. But as you are fully aware, it is my decision. I have told you I felt Valltrik, and I have decided."

Aleena broke. Tears flooded her eyes as she reached out for her son and pleaded with him. "My son, I love you, and I do not want to see you hurt. There is nothing to decide. She is human, and Valltrik is for our kind, not theirs. Don't let your attachment deepen. Release her."

Ian put a gentle hand on Aleena's. "Mother, it is already too late."

The devastation in his mother's eyes was too much for Ian. He held her for a moment, then turned to his sisters.

Talise had a particularly arrogant expression on her face as she asked Sonora, "Are all your people so scrawny and little? I'm surprised my clothes fit you at all." Cascadia's lovely giggle seemed out of place as they bullied his lady.

Ian's voice hardened. "You know exactly how large humans are. Enough of your trouble, sisters, slithering around like a couple of eels. She is mine now, and you will show her respect."

Talise and Cascadia's eyes widened, but one glance at their teary-eyed mother and they believed his news. Aleena nodded at the girls, and they apologized to Ian and Sonora for their rude behavior.

Ian gave his family a steely stare and taking Sonora's hand, strode out of the park. So distraught, he hardly noticed Sonora’s difficulty at keeping up with him, or the curiosity lighting the eyes of the few people who passed in the hallway. No one said a word to him though, his dark face and the little human girl telling them all the needed to know.

Once the door to his home was shut, Ian went to the large window. The ocean always soothed him. Ordinarily, he would have left his home for its silky embrace, but he didn't want to leave Sunny alone. His mother's words had allowed all his doubts to resurface. Not for the first time, he wondered how all this would work out between him and the one intended for him.

Still breathing heavy, Sonora stepped up beside him. "I'm sorry for whatever you fought about. Family fights suck."

"Yes, they do." Ian glanced down at her before looking back out at the ocean.

"Let me guess. They don't like me because I'm human?"

Ian glanced at her and away. "Something like that."

"Well, I guess they'll be happy when I go home then."

Ian tensed, tired of this debate. She wanted to go home. His family wanted her gone.  This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.

She was his Jata Ara. Couldn't she feel that? Something, anything? If she were an Atlantian, there would be no debate. One glance and she would have eagerly gotten to know him, and within hours, drifted into his arms, and only days later vows would be pledged.

Of course, some couples waited longer, had waves in their relationships, but nothing like this. And no one, absolutely no one ever gave up easily. Neither would he. He couldn't.

Ian gave Sonora a stern stare. "Who said you are going home? I am tired of hearing about it."

Sonora sputtered at him, at a loss for words.

Ian softened and took her hand. "Perhaps it will be better if you do not. Better for you and me. We will ask Father to talk to the council. They may have some advice for us.”

Nineteen

The Vow

Chapter Nineteen

The large council chamber sat in the center of Atlantis' tallest tower, which lay in the very center of the city itself. Although there had been no deliberate plan for this at the beginning, Jorah felt it held significance, if not for others than for himself.

The tower's watch overlooked the entire city, keeping the community safe. The council which met in the heart of that tower had its citizen's welfare as their central goal. Both positions held a reminder of the weighty responsibilities each had taken on.

An oval table sat in the center of the room. Constructed of dark maple, Atlantian words rounded along the edge in a light caramel color. This piece of furniture had sat here in this room for over two thousand years. One of the first distinctive items of furniture made for their underwater home, and as such, it was maintained continuously to keep it in pristine condition.

Jorah sat at the table along with the eleven other council members, each representing their own clan, and wondered how much of the table was original. But it didn't really matter. It was the idea behind it that held value; the idea written on the table itself. Justice and Brotherhood, Love and Compassion

Jorah watched the men and women raise their voices and wave their hands. He questioned if they remembered what the table said or even cared at this point.

The meeting had started calmly enough, though he’d seen the agitated faces. They'd opened the gathering, announcing of names and clans so they could be marked present in the book. He'd been last in declaring himself, Jorah of Clan Orca. At that point, all had worked at controlling themselves. Jorah put a hand to his forehead. He wished that was still the case.

After discussing a few trivial matters, Jorah introduced the more serious item. Once it was, disagreement rolled like a rogue underwater wave causing the chaos around him.

Jorah understood their anger and frustration. He felt every bit of it too. But no one seemed to agree on the solution, and that was a problem. The wild voices of the men and women on the council swirled around him.

Tiburon, larger than most and of the Great White Clan, waved an arm and said, in his gruff voice, “The humans are killing us!"

"I say that we just let the future take the humans as it will."

Mako of Cirrina Clan’s clear voice rang out, her straight blue-black hair swinging as she quickly stood. ”We were commissioned to help the humans survive! It has been my entire life’s work.“

"Yes, but how can we do that without the artifact?" someone questioned.

Akami from Mysticeti Clan, usually quiet, took Jorah’s side. “Ian is searching for the artifact and the one who stole it."

"It has been decades, and there has been no progress,” said Tiburon.

"Ian is not the only one hunting. There has been progress. They are close to finding him,” said Akami.

"And if they do not find him, then that solves the human problem. We don't even have to think about it. It will be impossible to help them. Then we can wash our hands of this thing.” More dissension from the other side of the table.

"We must do all we can! We have vowed to do so,” someone said.

"A foolish vow, made when we were innocent of human’s deceit and treachery."

"What some of them were like! Not all of them are evil, many are good,” said Anahita of the Aequorea Clan, her skin turning a deep blue-green the more emotional she became.

“We all know you have a fascination with them. Don't let your sentiment ruin our people!"

Jorah shook his head as someone fired back at Anahita. Her color flushed stronger as she clamped her lips. The Aequorea’s bioluminescence was greater than other clans.

"Don't let your rush to judgment be your undoing!"

Unable to listen to angry voices any longer, Jorah stood. “Council members! Stop!" He slammed a flat hand on the table until they quieted. "We need to come to order."

Once everyone was quiet, he began, "All will hear and be heard, as is our custom. All of you have expressed an opinion, but I have not. I will now do so."

"Look around you and see what we have here. Look at the beauty of this room, the riches we carry on our persons and the brotherhood among ourselves. We are favored. But of all these things, the brotherhood is the most valuable because with this unity we can replenish everything else.” Jorah swept his arm outward.

"It is with this brotherhood in mind we took on our commission of helping the humans. Not because they already were our brothers, but because they were helpless, and our people have always aided those in need. And that one day, they might become our brothers."

A low murmuring began, but Jorah ignored it.

"You may feel they still deserve our mercy or you may not, but that is not of any concern in this matter. The charge was for us to save them, it was not if they deserved our act of saving.

"Are they less than us? Yes, but that does not make them evil. Have our people died at their hands? Yes, but none of you can sit here and tell me that no human has ever died at the hands of an Atlantian."

Someone protested. "That was one Atlantian."

Jorah leaned toward him. "Who killed hundreds of humans. How are we to know that this is not one human, yet you will condemn entire races of people to death? Where is your brotherhood? Where is your vow?

Turning, Jorah let his gaze sweep the council members. "You may feel our forefathers made our vow in haste to a man we barely knew. I have, at times, thought the same myself. But then, I sit at this table…” Jorah punched his finger toward the wood surface, “this table which marks the beginning our people, and I read what is carefully carved into every inch of its hard surface.

"Justice and Brotherhood, Love and Compassion.

"What justice is there to blame an entire race for the evils of a few? What brotherhood if we are ready to—no—eagerly await their destruction? How long will love and compassion last amongst ourselves if we refuse to offer it to others?”

"It is our duty to do everything we can to find the Artifact and use it. It is our burden to find the killer of our people and punish him. And it is our legacy to carry on our motto within our own world and the humans."

Jorah sat back down in his chair. Silence rang in his ears. Then slowly, one council member after another rose and left the room. Some nodded to him, in what Jorah hoped was agreement. Others scowled as they made their way out. All were quiet.

Jorah wasn't sure if there were more who agreed or disagreed, and he didn't know if it mattered. If they didn't find the Artifact, there would be nothing they could do. All humans would die.

And though he fought for the Atlantian code, Jorah wondered if that just might be the best thing that could happen.

Twenty

Your Sister?

Chapter Twenty

Sonora's mother, Azurine, hummed to herself as she chopped vegetables for dinner. She glanced at the clock; it was almost time to eat, and Sunny hadn't shown up yet. She shook her head.

"Sierra!" Azurine called out to her oldest daughter.

Sierra laid down the bridal magazine she'd been browsing, gave her fiancé a pat on the leg, and walked to the door of the kitchen. "Yeah, mom?"

"Have you heard from your sister? She promised to be at dinner tonight. Your dad's almost finished with the car, and I'm about ready here. I tried her cell, but the call didn't go through." Azurine murmured, "I really need to get on her case to get a new cell phone."

Sierra huffed. "Mom, you know she doesn't have the budget for a new cell phone. And you only have yourselves to blame for that. If you'd ease up on her and give her a little money…"

Azurine looked everywhere but at her daughter. "Sierra, you just don't understand."

"I understand that you gave me every penny I needed for college, and now a big wedding. But nothing's left for Sunny? I told you I‘ll cut back on the wedding. It’s not right—"

"Sierra, that's enough. I said you don't understand!"

Sierra folded her arms. "Well, I don't buy it for a minute."

"It will all be fine in the end." Azurine set plates on the table. "Now, do you know where your sister is?"

"At Kelly's? She said something about going there.” Sierra reached into the cutlery drawer for silverware.

"Oh, that's right, she was going there one day this week. Go ask your dad, he may know." As Sierra walked out of the room, her mother called after her, "And tell your dad dinner will be ready in ten minutes."

In the garage, Mike tinkered with the family car. "Dad, did you know what Sunny was up to today?"

He grunted as he tightened a bolt before saying, "Ain't she goin' to the beach?"

"Well, I dunno. I thought Sunny was going to Kelly's."

Mike straightened and scratched his already grease-marked face adding another dark line. "Go ask your grandpa, she was talking to him this morning at breakfast."

Sierra heaved a sigh. "Well, this is ridiculous. We need to keep tabs better than this."

She stepped out of the house onto the front porch and breathed in the salty air. A lingering look at the rolling ocean calmed her nerves. Living here since her birth, it was second nature to Sierra. More than that, the sea was in her blood.

Her grandfather had been a fisherman and come from a long line of fishermen, though he retired by the time Sierra was born. He was the one who bought this large tract of land the day before he married. On it, he built a house for his wife, and once his two daughters settled, a home for both of them.

Sierra's family home sat between her grandpa's and her Aunt Claire's. All three houses lined up in a row snug against the ocean with only a country lane and a small beach between them and the water.

The housing arrangement led to an incredibly tight-knit family, which Sierra sometimes felt worked against her. But the advantage was that if one of them didn't know where someone was, you asked someone else. Eventually, you would find the answer.

Sierra found her grandfather on his front porch, rocking back and forth and staring out to the sea as he talked to Aunt Claire and her husband, Devon Shade. She nodded hello to them all. "Grandpa, we're looking for Sunny. Her calls aren't going through. One of us thinks she went to the beach, the other to Kelly's. How do you weigh in on this?"

"Well now, young one, she did say she was going to the beach. And, if memory serves me right, she also said something about Kelly this morning. But I don't remember if visiting was today or tomorrow. Maybe someone should give Kelly a call."

Aunt Claire leaned forward. "You know this would be a lot easier if you girls would use this beach in front of you instead of running twenty minutes away."

Devon chimed in, "Why both of you want to hang out in the water so much is beyond me."

Sierra laughed. "Uncle Devon, you're a marine biologist!"

"Yes, among other things, and I learned early on, it isn't all playtime out there, and that is why I switched into research. You could take a lesson in that." Devon gave her a nod to emphasize his point.

Still amused, Sierra smiled at him. "Well, I don't get much ocean time in now that I work in accounting. So you don't have to worry about me. It's Sunny who's going to become a marine biologist like the two of you."

The three of them clammed up, avoiding Sierra's stare. She turned away from them and looked at the sea as she leaned against the porch railing.

This whole college thing was crazy. Her aunt had money, and grandpa retired early but never seemed to have a shortage of funds. They couldn’t help Sunny out? Instead, when brought up, all she and Sunny got were guilty glances. They were holding back.

Sierra smirked. It was a good thing she'd been working on the problem. She had some news for Sunny. The local college had a last-minute change in professors, and when Sierra asked him, the professor said there was plenty of room in the class Sunny wanted to take.

Sierra couldn't wait to tell her sister. She'd be so excited! And for financing, Sierra would swing this class for Sunny so she would be able to keep it a secret from the rest of the family. One way or another, Sierra was determined to see her sister fulfill her dreams.

Twenty-One

Stay Tomorrow

Chapter Twenty-one

Wide-eyed, Sonora looked at Ian as her stomach tied into a knot. She couldn't back down now. "Who says that I'm going home? I do." She swallowed hard as Ian continued to stare at her. Her voice gentled. "It's obvious bringing me here like this isn't something you'd ordinarily do."

Ian leaned against the window frame as he looked back at the water and sighed. "Sunny, you don't know me or what I would do."

“I’ve figured out you don’t normally take helpless women against their will. I see the way you respect your mother. The way you have taken care of me since I've gotten here. You don't want to hurt me."

"Keeping you here will not hurt you."

"It will, and you know it."

Another sigh from Ian, deep and long, as he tried to change the subject. "Tomorrow we will look around the city."

Sonora frowned at him. "Tomorrow you are taking me home."

Ian looked back at her. "I can't take you home yet. You have to stay tomorrow."

Sonora flapped her arms. "I can't. My family will wonder where I am. I can explain one night somehow but not longer than that. They'll be out there looking for me, worried about me. If they find my car just sitting in the parking lot, I don't know what they'll think."

"I'll take care of it."

Her voice rose. "I don't want you to—“ Sonora let out a huff. "I don't want you to take care of it. I want to go home!"

Ian laid a hand on Sonora's shoulder, which she unsuccessfully tried to shrug off. For a moment, he closed his eyes. When he opened them, Ian tightened his jaw. "I give you my word that when you can go home, if you want to, I will take you there."

"When I can? If I want to? Of course, I will want to. What are you talking about?"

Sonora shook his hand from her with a jerk of her body. "You do realize your communication skills are sorely lacking." She took a moment to glare at him before stomping toward the room where he had laid her borrowed clothing.

"Sunny." When she didn't stop, Ian called again, this time his voice sharp. "Sunny!"

Sonora stopped and glanced back at him.

"Come," Ian demanded as he beckoned her with a wave of his hand.

Though still steaming, Sonora could not ignore the picture of the man before her. One muscled arm supported him as he leaned against the side of the picture window. Her gaze trailed his long, still half-dressed, body up to his handsome face. She let her gaze play along it, the cheekbones, the sleek dark hair. A muscle in his solid jaw twitched, and Sonora brought her eyes to his grey ones. Once Ian captured them, he refused to let go.

Seconds seemed to be minutes, and something kindled in Sonora. A feeling deeper than desire, more like a pull to belong.

A bolt of shock shot through Sonora as she realized she wanted nothing more than to rush to him. A gleam of recognition rose in his eyes as she tore her gaze from his. Sonora gave her head a little shake. Geez, put a cute guy in front of her, and she lost all sense.

When Ian beckoned Sonora again, she walked over but kept her distance. She looked only at the ocean as Ian stared at her. And when he attempted to lay a hand on her back, she moved away. Sonora frowned at him. "What? What do you want?"

Ian sagged but pointed out the window. "You see that grid out there?"

"I'm not in the mood for another lesson in your superior underwater technology. Or any of your superior anything. In fact—“

Ian cut her off. "Will you listen?"

Sonora huffed and crossed her arms.

"That grid is to keep our existence secret. For centuries, building our cities in rocky areas was enough. The seafarers naturally avoided them, but as the human's technology grew, ours needed to do as well. So we created the grid. It distorts your echo sounders, so people avoid this area.

"We have it not because we are hostile toward humans but because they are not ready to learn about us. Can you imagine what would happen if they found out we were down here?"

Sonora knew precisely what would happen. News, media, fascination, suspicion, chaos, sadness, and terror. And that was if everything went well. Nothing here would ever be the same again. Murder had already been committed by someone aware of them.

“The day will come when we need to approach them, but now is not the time." Ian looked at her. "There are things about us, about me, that you haven’t learned yet. Not because they will hurt you, but because the time is not right." A small smile curved one side of his lips. "I am your grid."

"Oh, ha, ha," Sonora said with a fake laugh.

"You will stay tomorrow."

"And the day after that?"

"Let each day decide for itself."

"No! I'm not—“

"Sunny, you can rail against this all you want, but it will change nothing."

Her anger ignited at his high-handed words, and she struck out at him. Her small fists pounded against him even though she knew she was no more than a gnat he could easily swat away. Still, he stood there and took everything she had to give.

More furious than ever, Sonora stopped and glared up at him, hissing. "I hate you!"

The words did what the blows could not. Ian stumbled back from her with a stricken expression. Sonora's heart clenched. She reached for him. They both looked at her outstretched arms. Sheer happiness covered Ian's face. Bewilderment came over Sonora's.

She pulled her arms back, wrapping them around herself as tight as she could. What was happening? She needed to make him understand she didn't want to stay here even if it did hurt him. Why had she reached out to him?

Sonora rushed to the chairs and lowered herself to teeter on the edge of one. Ian followed her and sank into the chair across from her, looking confused. He pulled a hand through his dark hair, further disturbing it. "I didn't want this."

"I didn't want this. You most certainly did, or I wouldn't be here."

Ian lowered his head. "No, not like this."

Sonora covered her face with her hand and rested elbows on knees. After a moment, she sat up. "Okay so, now what?"

"Tomorrow, I will show you around."

Sonora rolled her eyes. They were right back where they started. "And that will magically do what?"

"Not magically. But the more you cooperate, the faster this will go."

Of course, it would. Sonora shook her head, then sighed and sat back in her seat. "And I'm not allowed to know what ‘this’ is?"

Ian raised an eyebrow and grinned. In that moment, it was clear he was aware he'd won. He pulled his fingers through his hair again, this time to fix it. The gesture caused Ian to bow his head and look up at Sonora as his shoulders rolled. "The grid, remember?"

Sonora blew out a puff of air, stirring the hair around her face. "Don't try to be cute. It doesn't help your case at all."

She winced. That was totally not true.

Twenty-Two

Better Than Human

Chapter Twenty-two

Aleena paced back and forth in her high tower bedroom, her son on her mind. Stopping, she faced her husband, the weight of every bad scenario showing on her face. It made her numb. Most upsetting was the inevitable heartbreak Ian would face. Aleena’s heart twisted at the thought of seeing her strong, warrior of a son crushed. Ian had handled his share of danger, and Aleena had learned long ago she needn't worry about his skills in handling it, but a broken heart was another thing entirely. A broken heart often ended an Atlantian.

Of course, there was still the possibility Ian had lost his senses. "It must have been all the time he's spent in the air. All that oxygen must have addled his mind." Aleena started wringing her hands.

Jorah shook his head in disbelief. "You are sure you understood him correctly? He really feels this way about her? I’d hoped it only an infatuation."

Aleena's voice rose as she threw up her hands, "That's what he said. Informed me of his asinine decision and told me it was none of my affair. The news shocked me so much I didn't question him further." Her voice turned to despair. "What is our son doing? He is going to get hurt! This will ruin his life. A human!" Aleena brought one of her hands to her face. "A human."

“Perhaps it will be okay. Ian has always swum a straight line."

"He seemed just as shocked saying it as I was hearing it," Aleena uttered a small wail. "You are aware how these things turn out, Jorah. You know!"

Jorah sought to calm his wife. "There was that one girl. It seemed to turn out fine for her."

"How do we know that? She went off with that sailor and was never heard from again! He could have done anything to her. And her poor family, to go through that!" Aleena broke down. In between sobs, she whispered, "And look at Argos."

Jorah's tone was quick and harsh. "Hush! Never say that name! That will not be our son. And that was a different situation altogether."

“It was over love and humans. The two never mix without trouble."

Aleena sent her feelings to her husband, as Atlantian couples often did. Feeling her distress, Jorah's face fell, and he rushed to his wife, wrapping his arms around her and offering her comfort. "Maybe he will keep her here."

"She will be treated horribly here. Ian needs to take her back to where she belongs."

"He's waited so long for his love, and now this," Jorah muttered.

* * *

Jorah prayed it was not as bad as Aleena feared, but he could tell from his wife's pain, she held out no hope for their child. He took Aleena's hand. Their children's welfare had always been uppermost in her mind. She had worried herself sick. Tears came to Jorah's eyes as he imagined what Ian was going through.

Every time Ian left to travel through the ocean's kingdoms to find his Jata Ara, Jorah wished him well, as a good father does. More than that, though, he longed for his son to find his match almost as much as Ian did. Jorah knew a good match could complete a man, make him whole. His arms tightened around his wife. That is what had happened for him, the minute he and Aleena met.

Through Ian's many years of searching, when Ian had returned in despair and defeat, Jorah comforted him, assuring Ian that one day he would find his love. Jorah had been so sure all this waiting meant his son was going to find someone extraordinary.

But this? Jorah couldn't imagine how this could be anything but a troublesome match. He cringed at the thought that his family line would no longer be pure Atlantian. How would that affect Ian's prospects? Would his son be eligible to take over Jorah's seat on the council?

He spoke softly to his wife, "I will speak with our son. But he is right, Aleena, a mate is one's own decision to make, not his family's. And if he insists on this, well, just remember we are human too."

Aleena recoiled. "We are Atlantian!"

Jorah's words came out sure even though they sounded wrong to his own ears. "Which are human."

"Which are better than human,” Aleena laid her head on her husband's shoulder.

"Yes, of course, my dear," Jorah smoothed a hand over her hair. "Of course, we are, but we are undeniably connected to them, and they to us. We are charged with helping them. And though we may not know the outcome of that particular situation yet, perhaps we can, somehow, do our part to help this human girl.”

Twenty-Three

Breathe

Chapter Twenty-three

Sonora woke to the smell of cooking food. She put her hands above her head and stretched, surprised, but happy she'd had a restful night in Ian's guest bedroom. Sniffing once, then twice, Sonora frowned. Nothing smelled familiar. She raised an eyebrow as she threw a glance out the window. Who knew what would be on the menu?

Sonora searched through her borrowed clothing and slid a dress over her head, arranging it the way she'd seen Cascadia wearing hers. After finger-combing her hair, Sonora looked at what she could only call a magic mirror. The wall appeared the same as the others until she pushed a button and a mirror seemed to pour down the wall. No matter how many times she made the mirror appear, Sonora still didn't understand how it worked.

Sonora walked to the door and stopped. Her family would have already missed her. Maybe they would think she stayed at a friend’s house last night, but when she didn’t show up again today? They were going to be so worried. Sonora tried to shrug off her concern. There was nothing she could do about that. Instead, she’d think about how she would handle Ian today. She wasn't happy with his decree that she stay, but she didn’t have much choice at the moment. Playing along seemed to be the best way of finding a way out of here. And, if she was stuck, she planned to make the most of it. Never, in a million years, had she dreamed of anything like this, and she wanted to learn everything possible.

Sonora followed her nose to the kitchen and found Ian hard at work, and wearing more clothing than yesterday. He'd added a shirt to his shorts.

His face brightened as soon as she entered the room. "Good morning, breakfast will be done in a moment."

"Can I help?"

"There really isn't anything left to do." Ian studied Sonora. "You look beautiful."

Sonora stared at Ian for a moment. It meant more to her than she wanted to admit. He hadn’t tried to be sexy or romantic, just said it as if he’d said the sun was shining. It was perfect.

She blushed and turned her head away. "Thank you, but the dress is too long."

Ian smiled at her reaction. "I can have something altered for you."

Sonora waved her hand at his suggestion. "No, it’s fine. I wasn't complaining." She glanced from his face to his shirt. "You look nice too."

When they sat for breakfast, Ian explained each dish. Sonora recognized nothing, except the strawberries, which were grown in an unusual garden that Ian promised to show her. Sonora enjoyed it all, rejecting only one slimy dish, which she shoved back at Ian. He eagerly downed it with the same exuberance he seemed to have for all food.

While they ate, Ian answered Sonora's questions, explaining how they harnessed the ocean's internal waves for power and the geothermal energy for heat from below the ocean floor.

Sonora nodded. "Waves certainly have immense power. That little wave had me swirling so fast I wasn’t able to see anything." She smirked. "You know, on the day I met you."

"You mean the day I save your life."

"You mean on the day you kidnapped me."

"Sunny… You do remember I save your life, don't you?"

Sonora sat back in her seat and crossed her arms as she stared at him.

Ian raised an eyebrow. "You do not remember me reaching out to you?"

She glanced at the tile floor. Oh, she remembered. Sonora would never forget it. Nothing but dark water swirling around her. Tumbling like she was in the middle of a waterspout. She'd been terrified before she’d seen him.

Sonora unfolded her arms. "I do. And I thank you with all my heart. I just don't understand the rest of it."

Ian took her hand, folding it into his. "We'll talk about that soon."

"Soon?"

"Tonight, but for now, I have a surprise.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a little breather. "Would you like to learn to use this?"

Sonora almost bounced in her seat. "I would love too!"

Ian gave her a demonstration, explaining the need to pull the air as deeply into her lungs as possible. "You will be like a child at first, but over time, you will be able to hold your breath for longer periods."

Sonora ignored Ian's assumption she would be here that long. "Like you?"

Ian chuckled. "Probably never like me, but we shall see."

Determined to succeed, Sonora didn't give up even when the first try blasted her in the eye and the second did nothing but raise the side of her hair in a violent spin.

Ian was almost bent over the table in laughter. "You have to breathe the air in when you push the button," he choked out.

"Stop laughing at me!" Sonora yelled through her own giggles.

"You are worse than the little ones, Sunny."

Sonora slapped Ian on the arm. "Now you are just being rude."

"No. It is possible be much ruder."

Sonora tried to appear angry but lost when she exploded into another fit of laughter. "Oh my, this thing is impossible. There is so much pressure."

"Children can use it. So can you. Try again." Ian waved from the breather to Sonora.

"Ugh!" The next try went better at first, then she started violently coughing.

"You are fine. You are good. Just breathe.” Ian reached out to Sonora.

"Just to inform you, that is not me doing good," she gasped. "This is normal?"

"For beginners, yes. You are almost there."

Sonora rolled her eyes. She felt far from almost there, but she nodded. Sonora wanted so much to swim as free as the Atlantians did. So it was harder than she thought, not many great things were easy. Sonora readied herself. The blast of air was intense, and her instinct was to refuse to inhale it.

But Ian was right, two more times and Sonora had it. She'd have to breathe a whole lot more than Ian did, but she could do it. Sonora rushed to change into her bathing suit while Ian loaded up on breathers.

Once dressed Sonora grabbed two breathers off the floor beside Ian and flashed him a smile before dropping down the portal into the ocean below.

Sonora stayed close to the narrow opening to Ian's house, swimming in circles. Ian sat on the edge of the portal, dangling his feet as he kept an eye on her. She used the breather three or four times flawlessly before moving further out. Ian jumped into the water and followed.

Sonora had expected the feeling of freedom, of exhilaration. What she had not expected was that swimming in the deep ocean without a mask or tank almost seemed like being naked in public. It seemed all wrong.

She expelled all her air and prepared to take another breath. She maneuvered awkwardly and missed most of the oxygen. This was harder than she thought, it was time to go in. Sonora turned to Ian and pointed back to his house, then kicked away from him.

Ian grabbed her foot and held it. She looked at him over her shoulder with raised eyebrows. He imitated using the breather.

"No," Sonora mouthed as she shook her head.

Ian tugged on her foot again, bringing her close to him. He encouraged her to try again.

He was right. She'd been excited to try this, and here she was giving up already. But if she didn't inhale properly this time, it would be a race for the door. Sonora turned and grasped Ian's arm. He brought a palm to his chest, letting her know he was there for her. He put a hand to her waist.

Sonora nodded. She needed to try this sometime. But she scoffed at herself, just yesterday she'd been more afraid of Ian than the ocean, and now it was the other way around. Now, she sought his comfort.

She raised the breather and tried again, successfully filling her lungs with air. Eyes sparkling and filled with confidence, Sonora clapped her hands and moved away from Ian.

Two dolphins swam to them, bringing a bit of seaweed to play catch. Sonora enjoyed her new playmates, swirling in the water when they did, and appreciating her freedom from cumbersome breathing equipment. The dolphins carefully played around her as if they sensed her lack of skills in the water. Occasionally, they pushed her upward as if trying to send her home. Sonora grimaced. Even they knew she didn't belong here. Ian clicked and whistled at them, and they bounced along to another activity.

Sonora brought a breather to her mouth, but when she pushed the button, nothing came out. She handed it to Ian and tried another. It was empty too.

Getting Ian’s attention again, Sonora pointed at the breather and shook it. Ian searched through the silver cylinders he carried in a small bag as Sonora shot a nervous glance to Ian's house. It seemed so far away. She hadn't realized their play had taken them so far out.

Ian pulled the last breather out and smiled. "Last one."

His voice rumbled around, and through, Sonora like a thousand speakers on full blast. She startled and huffed out what little air she had. Sonora's eyes widened as she fought the desire to pull in a breath. Trembling, she grabbed the last cylinder out of Ian's hand.

Sonora tried to calm herself as she yanked the breather to her mouth. It worked until a dolphin bumped her from behind.

Her arms flew outward. The cylinder tumbled from her hands. She gasped and reached for it, her flailing hands unable to keep up as it spun in the swirling water.

Ian uttered a hard whistle, and the dolphins instantly stilled. He moved toward the quickly falling breather, then glanced at Sonora. Her hands were on her neck.

The water pushed its way down her throat, and Sonora's instinct was to cough it out. It was taking every bit of control not to do so. She could only stifle the cough so long.

Ian glanced from her to his house. He grabbed Sonora, holding her tight. Determination covered his face as he set his sights on his home.

Sonora wrapped her arms around his chest, barely able to clasp her hands together. She shook as she resisting the internal scream for more air and praying they would make it.

It was a battle of will versus flesh now.

Ian put a hand to her head, pushing it against his neck. His take-off was so fast the force of the water squeezed her body to his.

He swam as the dolphins did, the undulating motion giving him more speed than she imagined possible. The dolphins flanked Ian, helping to lessen the water’s drag and further increasing his speed.

Sonora banged on Ian's back with one of her fists, urging him on. She was almost at the breaking point. She'd done the best she could, her need for oxygen was winning.

Sonora's body bucked in Ian's arms as it demanded air. Determined to fill with something, her body disobeyed her commands and took in the only thing available—water.

Once her lungs started, they would not stop. They continued until Sonora's lungs were filled to the top. Sonora screamed as her drowning body bounced against Ian's with such force he struggled to hold her.

She glanced up and saw Ian's agonized face looking back at her. A single air bubble rose between them. Ian shook his head, denying what was before his eyes.

Sonora's body went limp as the light seemed to fade around her. Ian's hands tightened on her slim body, and he continued his onslaught home.

Twenty-Four

Even If

Chapter Twenty-four

Ian flew out of the water and overshot his landing. After almost hitting the ceiling of his living room, he came down hard, slamming his heels against the room’s floor. His internal chant moved to his lips. "No, Sunny! Do not leave me, my heart!" His raspy voice broke.

Sunny’s head lolled to one side, and one limp arm draped over his. Dropping to his knees, Ian gently laid Sonora on the floor. In a panic, he tapped the communicator implanted in his jaw since childhood. "Father! Mother! I need you!"

Ian tipped Sunny’s head and listened for any sign of breathing. His own unusually quick gasps were all he heard. Ian slowed his breathing. If he was going to help her, he needed to get himself under control.

Ian brought his mouth to Sunny’s, pulling the water from her lungs. He spit what he gathered onto the floor. She was still limp and lifeless. He tried again.

Ian looked up as his family raced into the house, their faces paled at the sight of Sunny’s limp body and their son's pleading eyes.

"Father, Mother, help me, please." Ian ran a hand over his forehead and through his hair.

"I can't lose her! I can’t—“ Ian shuddered and glanced from them to Sonora. He put his hand to Sunny’s hair, stroking it as his voice fell to a whisper. "I've just found her." He winced. Everything hurt, his throat burned, and his heart slowly ripped into two.

Aleena brought a hand to her mouth as she sobbed over her son's distress.

Jorah lowered himself to the floor beside Ian. He clasped his son's shoulder. "Try again, Ian. Sometimes humans are stronger and more resilient than we believe."

Ian's hands shook as he gathered Sunny into his arms. His pained soul praying to the Creator this time she would wake. He put his own cool lips to his beloved's cold ones and pulled more water from her.

Ian stared at Sunny, willing her to open her eyes. When she didn't, he lowered his head to hers and rocked, clasping Sunny to himself.

Cascadia and Talise shot a look at their parents before exchanging wide-eyed glances. Cascadia crouched beside her brother. "When I was in Rome last summer, I saw a human pulled from the water. They did things differently than us. They banged on her chest, and when she coughed, they turned her over."

Talise agreed. "I've seen the same thing."

Ian looked from his powerful fists to his delicate Jata Ara. "I would kill her for sure. Cascadia, I beg you to do what you have seen." Ian laid Sonora flat on the ground.

His sisters settled on the floor, one on each side. Cascadia carefully pressed on Sunny’s chest as Talise patted the girl's face. Ian hovered above them.

When nothing happened, Ian ordered. "Push harder!"

"I'll hurt her!"

Ian turned away, his shoulders shaking. He'd give anything for her to live. Anything. Even if… even if she wanted to go home and never see him again. Just to know she was alive would be enough.

Jorah patted his daughter. "She's already gone. You can do no more damage. It will work, or it will not."

Cascadia strengthened her efforts. After two compressions, Talise leaned down and listened. "Something is happening."

Ian rushed to Sunny’s side.

An anxious sigh escaped Aleena. "Try drawing the water from her now, son."

Ian's mouth was on Sunny’s when she stirred. He moved away, monitoring every slight action. Only when she erupted into a coughing fit and hauled in more air, did Ian allow himself to believe she would be all right.

His heart soared as he turned Sunny on her side, his arms holding her upper body up off the floor. Sonora wrapped both her arms around his, clenching him, as she continued spitting water. How could so much water be coming from such puny lungs? It frightened him, and Ian could tell it scared her.

He did his best to soothe Sunny, pulling her long, wet hair away from her face and stroking the length of her back. Twice he bent and gave her a light kiss on the back of her head, unable to stop himself. Maybe she wouldn't notice. Eventually, she lay exhausted in his arms.

Intense joy filled every part of Ian. When Sunny stirred and frowned, he smiled. She knew of his emotion on some level even if she was unsure of what it was.

Jorah and Aleena knelt beside the two of them soaking in the glow of their son's happiness. Jorah turned to his wife. "It is too late for him, my wife. This bond is truly sealed."

Ian sighed as he stared at Sunny. "It has been too late for a long time now, Father."

Jorah and Aleena exchanged glances. Jorah nodded. "There will be no more arguments about this girl. She is Ian's Jata Ara."

Ian ran a light finger over Sunny’s cheek. There had been no question for him before, but now it was sealed. Ian had experienced every bit of her struggle. Losing breath, the fight against incoming water and even her death as if it were his own.

The bond was both the blessing and the curse of the Atlantian. Whether or not Sunny was, Ian was bonded for life.

Sunny stirred and used Ian's arm to weakly push herself into a semi-sitting position. Ian's grip tightened. He didn't want to let her go. It would be better if she stayed safe in his arms.

Jorah chuckled. "Ian, you just gave the girl back her breath, don't take it away again."

Ian loosened his grip and looked at the loveliest sight he'd ever seen. Sunny looked at him, rubbing one of her sky-blue eyes as she gave him a weak smile.  His heart, his love was alive.

Sunny shook a finger at him. "Okay, reminder— don't talk to me underwater, it really, really freaks me out."

A nervous laugh broke out among the family, and Ian's gaze lingered on her as he wrapped a section of her long hair around his fingers. "I apologize, I wasn't thinking. I give you my word, I will never, never speak to you underwater again."

Sunny frowned at Ian's beaming face and scoffed, "You know you will." She giggled when he moved a hand to his heart, but pulled her hair from Ian's fingers when he reached for it again. Sunny shivered and tried to get to her feet. With Ian's help, she made it to a chair. Talise handed her brother a blanket which he wrapped around Sunny.

When Sunny coughed, Ian glanced back at his father. "Did you request the doctor? She is still not breathing well."

Sunny raised a hand and waved his suggestion away. "I swallowed a little water. I don't think that calls for a doctor."

Aleena took the chair beside Sonora. “More than that happened, little guppy. You died.”

Twenty-Five

Hate is a Strong Word

Chapter Twenty-five

Sonora shuddered. She remembered being in the water, then here in Ian's arms, but not a whole lot in between. "Are you sure? I mean, I'm worn out, but other than that I feel fine."

Ian frowned at her. "You are still coughing. And yes, I am sure. No breath came from your lungs, no beat from your heart. I checked many times, as did my sister.”

Someone knocked at the door, and Talise let them in. A woman holding a bag. The doctor, Sonora presumed before Aleena introduced them.

The doctor came forward, sitting beside Sonora. "Oh, you are a tiny one, aren't you?"

Sonora smiled. "Well, that depends, I'm on the tall side for a human woman. From my point of view, you all seem a bit overgrown."

The doctor laughed. "I suppose we do."

Curious, Sonora watched the doctor pull a small hand-held instrument from the bag and move it over her. It reminded Sonora of something out of a science fiction show.

The woman punched a few buttons on the thing. "Everything seems fine. But stay quiet for a few hours, and I will check on you tomorrow." The doctor stood. "Call me if there are any complications." She gave Sonora a quick pat and a smile before saying goodbye to everyone.

Once she'd waved, Sonora turned to Ian only to find him gone. He and his parents huddled together at the far side of the room, and his sisters eagerly listened in. Jorah and Aleena were deep in conversation with Ian, tears flooding their eyes. Ian put a hand to his mother's shoulder and nodded.

Cascadia and Talise's faces beamed with excitement, reminding Sonora of a nosy neighbor with the gossip of the neighborhood. Their frequent glances confirmed Sonora's suspicion she was the topic of conversation. Was it just her or were they acting stranger than usual? A near-drowning couldn't be that unusual in an underwater city.

But once the family left, Sonora was too tired to worry about it. A nap was what she needed. She rose and headed to the spare room, Ian trailing her even with assurances she was okay. Sonora was out within minutes of laying her head on the pillow.

Hours later, Sonora's eyelids fluttered open. In the dim light, Ian sat in a chair he'd pulled close to the side of the bed. He slumped there, head propped on a hand, with his eyes closed. Sonora studied him for a moment. Memories of the afternoon coming back to her.

Ian's anguished face above hers, his strong arms holding her tight as he sped through the water, her utter trust in him.

There was something about this man. Why did she trust him? When had that happened? One day she was shaking in her shoes because he was a creeper and the next she was okay with him sitting by her bed, watching her sleep?

Ian stirred and raised his head, looking at Sonora. Their gazes met and held. That direct stare seemed to always be asking something of her. But Sonora wasn't sure what the question was or if she wanted to answer it. Unable to take anymore, she lowered her gaze.

Ian gave a sad, little smile as Sonora pushed herself up and said, "My family is here again."

"Is that why you're hiding out in my room?" she joked, trying to ease the tension.

"What? No, why would—“ Ian shook his head in confusion. "Is that what you do? I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Sonora shrugged. "Sometimes. If my family is being particularly frustrating."

Ian chuckled. "I have not fallen into that habit."

"You can tell your family I'm fine."

Ian nodded. "That is not why they are here. We are going to a family dinner tonight, if you feel well enough. My sisters brought you some clothes, something suitable to wear." Ian stood and moved his chair back to its original position.

Sonora picked at the blanket covering her. "Ian?"

"Your family and some of the things said. I need to ask, do all Atlantians hate humans?"

There was a flicker of acknowledgment in Ian's eyes, and he hedged. "Hate is a strong word."

"That's why I used it."

"You need to understand, Sunny, there is a long history there."

"Really? Because I knew nothing about Atlantians, nor did any of my friends or family so I have to assume the general public is ignorant of your existence. I've never heard of Atlantians existing, only in storybooks. So who is this history with?"

"It is a very long story, and we don't have time for it now."

"How convenient for you."

Ian sighed. "The condensed version is, even though we have stayed hidden, at times, we were discovered. In many cases, it was fine. But in others, it was disastrous. Not long ago, one of our people had a… loss. He became inconsolable, and it led to him making unwise decisions where the humans were concerned."

"How unwise?"

"He murdered them, lots of them." Skye's eyes widened, but she listened as Ian went on. "After that happened, there were retaliations from humans. Torture, mutilation, and murders of our people, innocent people who had nothing to do with any human deaths. Once, we had looked at humans as adorable curiosities, now they are looked at with suspicion and disgust."

A chill made its slow way down Sonora's spine. "All of us?"

Ian looked away.

"They can't understand that most of us aren't like that?"

"Enough are like that. Look at your world. Violence between nations, between neighbors, even between family members. If there were one word to describe your people, it would be destructive."

Sonora shook her head. "There is a lot of good too."

Ian shrugged. “Perhaps. Hidden under all the bad. When I am on land, I watch your news. What do you see when you watch it? Because vicious, bloodthirsty people is all I see."

"You just told me one of yours murdered humans."

"That was one man, Sunny. Against people who were responsible for his loss. Some would call that justice."

"So you don't have any violence here?"

"No.”

Sonora brought her hand to her forehead. "But that is how all Atlantians will see me?"

Ian leaned toward her. "That is what you will have to overcome, but they will soon understand who you really are as my family and I have."

"This dinner tonight is to help them change their minds?"

Ian nodded. "It will."

Sonora ran a hand over the blanket. This conversation was going so well, she might as well push it further. "And tonight, will you tell me why I'm here?”

Ian ran a hand through his dark hair. "Yes." He stood. "Enough questions now. It is time to get ready."

Sonora stomach swirled at the thought of facing a roomful of judgmental Atlantians she needed to win over. "Maybe we should just stay here."

"Thanks to my sisters, my entire family knows about you and wants to meet you. It is important they do so before the others."

"Others?"

"Tonight is for my family, my clan. It is their right to meet you before other Atlantians."

Sonora lowered her head and sighed. This day just got better and better.

Twenty-Six

A Dream

Chapter Twenty-six

Ian walked out of the room and waved Cascadia and Talise in. Sonora's mouth twisted. The way those girls had treated her yesterday, she wasn't sure she wanted to spend more time with them. But this time, they had a smile for her, as well as dresses, a small box, and refreshments.

"We thought you might be thirsty,” Talise said as she sat the cup on the end table near Sonora. "And Sunny, we're sorry for how we acted the last time we met. We should have known if our brother accepted you, then you are a good person."

Cascadia laid the dresses across the bed and stared down at them, then looked back up at Sonora. "We were not sure which color you liked best. But, this one would be perfect, in my opinion. What do you think?"

Cascadia pulled an elegant blue dress from the pile the exact shade of Sonora's eyes. Sonora tried it on and twirled, the light fabric swirled around her ankles. "It's beautiful." She ran her hand over the high waist and the shoulder which were decorated in a design of shimmering gold thread.

Cascadia worked on Sonora's hair as Talise searched the box for the perfect earrings.

When done, the girls pushed Sonora to the mirror. A matching blue ribbon edged in the gold thread wove through an updo that should have seemed a tousled mess but was somehow perfect.

While Sonora was aware many people considered her pretty, she had crossed into new territory with this outfit. "Oh, my, thank you!"

"Well," Talise said matter-of-factly, "we can't have people thinking Ian dragged home some sort of bottom feeder. Besides, we had great fun picking out everything when Ian sent us to the seamstress."

Sonora raised her eyebrows in a question.

Cascadia waved her hand over the pile of clothing. "It's all yours. Ian ordered it for you."

Sonora's heart fell. She'd never be here long enough to wear all these, and she didn't want Ian to think she would be. She put a hand to the earrings. The sapphires seemed real. Oh my, what was she in the middle of here?

Before Sonora had a chance to think any further about it, Cascadia and Talise tugged her to the living room. Ian stood at the window, his back to her. The dark-blue outfit he had on was something like a suit, only a much lighter material, and with no tie. The tattoo on his body was stitched on the sleeve in the same shimmering thread that decorated Sonora's dress. It skimmed his muscular body, and she couldn't help admiring him.

Ian turned and fastened his gaze on hers, holding it until his eyes trailed over her. Sonora caught her breath. He took his time about it, slowly taking in every part of her from the crown of her head to the tip of her shoes.

Sonora's breathing quickened, and by the time Ian's gaze returned to her face, her cheeks were pink. She glanced at the floor and back at him. He wouldn’t stop staring at her.

She startled when Ian started her way and looked down, hoping he would go right past her. But when Ian's shoes appeared in Sonora's eye line, she knew she had no choice but to acknowledge him.

Sonora explored Ian once more as she raised her gaze to his. If he could do it, so could she. Her heart thumped. She made it to his jaw and watched a muscle moving along it. She couldn't meet those intense gray eyes of his.

But Ian wouldn't have it any other way. He put a finger under her chin and tipped her head until his gaze held hers. He smiled, and his eyes lit. "You are a dream come to life. The most beautiful sight I've ever seen."

Sonora's heart stopped. After a moment, she hauled in a ragged breath, and it pounded back to life again. She whispered, "Thank you." But it hardly seemed enough.

Her gaze roamed Ian's face. There was something about this man.

Jorah cleared his throat, and Sonora remembered there were others in the room. Good sense slammed through her body like a punishment. What was she doing? She brought her hand to Ian's and gently pushed it away from her chin. After taking a step back, she swallowed hard.

It was a moment, that was all. Something that came and would now go. Nothing special. Whatever this is, this place, these people, this man, she was leaving soon. The sadness flooding through her at the thought surprised her. She pushed it away.

Sonora sent Ian a stiff smile then looked at the others. "You look nice too. You all do."

She said the first thing that came to her mind, anything to break the tension in the air. Sonora waved at the stitched tattoo on Aleena's gown. "I thought Ian's tattoo was simply decoration, but they seemed to be more than that. What am I missing?"

Aleena ran a hand over her sleeve. "Each clan has its own marking. Children are given the markings of both their father's and their mother's clan at birth to create each family's unique signature. And don't worry, it does not cause the child any pain."

Sonora glanced at the shimmer peeking through the thin material of Aleena's sleeve. "I've never seen anything like them."

Aleena nodded. "It is unique to Atlantians."

Jorah opened the door and waved everyone out. "If we are ready, let us join the others.”

Twenty-Seven

Family Dinner

Chapter Twenty-seven

Ian reached for Sonora's hand, after a second of hesitation, she gave it. She would need all the support she could get. Ian drew her hand up over his arm. "Will there be many at the dinner?" she asked.

"It is for both clans, Mother's and Father's."

Ian seemed to be skirting the question, so Sonora persisted. "So some grandparents? A few cousins?"

Ian gave a nervous laugh. "Yes, a few. Our extended families tend to be considerably larger than humans. About 100, I think at last count. Or was it two?" He tipped his head toward his mother for confirmation.

"What?" Sonora squeaked as she quickly withdrew her hand from his arm. "I'm not prepared for that."

"You will do fine, Sunny." Ian took her hand and replaced it.

Sonora felt as tense as a piano wire by the time they stood at the entry of the dining room, which was a few doors down the corridor from the garden. Things were happening she'd been trying to ignore. Ian's odd behavior, his undeniable attraction to her, the need for her to meet his family. She pushed her discomfort away, unable to handle even a hint of what was truly going on.

Instead, Sonora pulled Ian to a stop and took a moment to enjoy the beauty of the dining room as well as calm her racing heart. Wood walls shone against candle and lamplight. Bright, lush flowers adorned every table. It was beautiful.

The rest of the room nearly frightened her to death. A crowd, definitely more toward the two hundred mark. The loud, echoing conversations hushed to silence the moment Sonora and Ian were spotted. The sudden grip of Ian's hand told Sonora this was not a regular occurrence. Her gaze swept the room. Every eye was on her.

Aleena, Cascadia, and Talise moved closer to her and Ian, while Jorah spoke to the crowd. A little shock ran through Sonora. She'd forgotten she wouldn't be able to understand anyone. This was getting worse with each passing moment. As Jorah talked, the stares continued. Sonora brought her other hand to Ian's arm and stepped as close to him as she was able. Maybe his big bulk would hide her.

Ian's calm voice helped. "It is okay, Edinara. It will be fine." Though Sonora wasn't sure what Edinara was.

Ian's father stopped talking. The silence continued until one elderly man offered something that sounded like a complaint. Some grumbled in response but many more laughed. The ice was broken.

"You will now meet many people," Ian whispered to her.”Just give a small bow of the head or curtsey, whatever you are comfortable with. They will not expect you to respond as you do not speak Atlantian."

Sonora looked up at Ian with wide eyes. Why wouldn't he have prepared her ahead of time for this? Sonora watched Ian's mother and sisters, repeating what they did. Ian stayed at her side, offering a reassuring nod or a warm glance from time to time. She must not be embarrassing him too bad.

The reactions of people to her were mixed. Some seemed genuinely kind to her, others overly curious, looking her over as if she were a museum exhibit. Still, others had no trouble showing their bias, a scowl or grunt their only response as they passed Ian and Sonora. Although Sonora's world had plenty of prejudice, it was not a situation she was used to, and for some reason, she felt bad about it. She needed to keep reminding herself that she'd done nothing to be on the receiving end of such treatment.

When another grumpy Atlantian passed without even a glance at her and Ian, Sonora couldn't help but wonder how the rest of the evening would go.

After meeting everyone, Ian nodded at a group of people waving at him, Cascadia, and Talise. The four started toward them, Sonora stumbling over a stair, grateful for Ian's strong arm. She kept one wary eye on the group but blew a sigh of relief when they gave her a friendly smile.

A young woman separated herself from the rest, stepping forward and reintroducing herself. "We saved you a seat at this table with us. We all speak English and thought you may be more comfortable here."

To hear English again seemed so much like a godsend to Sonora, she almost gushed. "Oh, yes! That is so kind of you. Thank you."

Her new acquaintance, Ara, took a step back and looked at the others. "She is quite friendly, isn't she? Not what I expected at all."

"I'm sorry?" Sunny said, raising her eyebrows.

"Oh, don't be. It's just humans are usually friendly to us when they aren’t aware of who we are, but then once they do, look out." The rest of the table laughed or grunted in agreement. "But you know who we are and are still friendly. Of course, you are in a rather tough spot. Us all surrounding you and Ian refusing to take you home."

Sunny's mouth dropped. Did everyone know everything?

"Not that I blame him, I mean, look at you. I'd give it time too, even though, you know, human." The laughter was in earnest this time.

A small crease crossed Sonora's brow as she eyed the group. She wasn't entirely sure, but she thought they were making fun of her. "Ian is taking me home tomorrow."

"Oh sure he is, guppy, sure he is."

Sonora's frown deepened at their obvious skepticism.

"Ara! Stop." Ian spoke sharply. He looked as if he wanted to drag Ara from the room.

Ara rolled her shoulders. "Oh.” She dragged the word out. "My swimaway mouth! You haven't told her yet. So how could she know?" She threw up her hands. "I will be quiet now, let that conversation be between her and you. Love to see that one though." She barked out a laugh as she waved them to two seats in the middle of the table.

Sonora kept an eye on Ara as she settled next to a pleasant-looking woman, her husband sat across the table from her. The woman leaned toward Sonora. "Do you know what my own and my husband's name mean in English?”

Sonora shook her head.

“Coral and Reef."

"No! Really?” Sonora said, her hand over her mouth as she tried to stiffle a giggle.

"Oh yes, as if we weren’t aware we were meant to be Jata Ara, our names told us." Coral giggled and sent her husband a saucy glance as she told Sonora about their own romantic meeting.

When Coral paused for a breath, Sonora asked, "I've heard the words, Jata Ara. What do they mean?"

"Well, of course, you have, Sunny! It means Intended."

A chill ran up Sonora’s spine as she shot a glance at Ian. When his Aunt Coral continued her story, Sonora's attention stayed with her tall kidnapper who sat across from her. The red-haired man beside Ian seemed to be a good friend. Sonora noticed he chose Ian’s beverage for him. The red-haired man pointed out the scratches on Ian's face and said with a twinkle in his eye, "Looks like you have a little tiger shark on your hands!" He waggled his eyebrows, just in case no one grasped his meaning.

Ian chuckled with the others. "Yes, she is a fighter. Got this bringing her here." When Ian went on to tell his friend the story of how he'd dragged her here, Sonora caught his eye and arched an eyebrow at him.

Ian coughed and switched to Atlantian, saying something that caused both men to laugh. Did he think that was really fooling her? Sonora turned to Coral, giving Ian as much of her back as she was able.

"Don't worry about them, dear," Coral said, "Men will be, well, men. Even the best of them."

Sonora's face reddened. No, men would be boys. "They're embarrassing me."

"Well, I'm certain that is not the way they see it. You are a treasure, and Ian wants to tell the story of how he found you. It is a favorite pastime of our people." Coral frantically tried to wave her mate away from Ian's side, but his Uncle Reef was hanging on every word. Coral gave up. "Let's just ignore them. I can guarantee you they will beg for our attention soon enough. You can make Ian suffer then."

After answering Coral's questions about her initial reaction to Atlantis, and a few from others at the table, Sonora took a moment to listen to the surrounding conversations. Apparently, everyone spoke at least one human language, and one person claimed to speak twelve, though everyone laughed when he bragged about it.

They discussed repairs of an older building at one end of the table, while at the other end, they whispered about the murder of the Atlantian. Sonora felt like shrinking down in the already too large chair so they wouldn't remember a human was here among them.

A casual comment by Talise bolted her upright. "Excuse me? How old did you say your father was?"

“He is getting close to two hundred and fifty now."

Baffled, Sunny asked, "Do you count time differently than we do?"

Talise blanched and shot an apologetic glance at Ian. "No, we count it basically the same way, different names and all, that but otherwise the same."

Sonora looked over at Ian, who slowly nodded his agreement.

She looked at Jorah's table, staring at him. She had thought he looked too young to even be a father! How could he, how could anyone possibly be two hundred and fifty?

"Oh my, have you told this girl anything?" Ara chided Ian, "What have you been doing with her?"

"I have been saving her life." Ian's voice was gruff.

"Well, they told me she was clumsy, but that can't possibly take up all your time. Talk to the girl, for sea's sake! She is ignorant of everything, and you're doing her a disservice."

Ignoring Ian's thunderous face, Ara turned to Sonora, "Yes, we live longer than you from… up there. We are ever so much healthier. Ortun over there claims to be over six hundred years old, though no one knows for sure. He is the oldest among us so he could really say whatever age he wanted."

Sonora's skin prickled as she craned her neck to see Ortun. Though old and wizened, she would have pegged him at the late nineties, not in the hundreds. Before she had time to explore this further, people stood. Dinner was over.

Coral hugged her and said, "I am surprised, but happy, to say I find you charming and lovely, not at all what I expected. It has been my pleasure to get to know you properly." Giving Ian a direct look, she nodded. ”I approve."

Ian burst into a big grin and nodded back, as did the rest of the table. It seemed Coral's approval was crucial. After that, many who had seemed reluctant to meet Sonora, came to her side, smiling.

Later, as Sonora and Ian, along with his family, walked down the corridor to his place, she said, "You know, even though everyone spoke English, I didn't understand half of what they were talking about, and it seemed they think I should have."

Ian and his father exchanged a glance and continued. "For instance, what does your aunt approve of? And what should I be aware of already that you haven't told me yet because the only thing you have time for is saving my life? And if that old man is six hundred and your dad is two-fifty, how old are you?"

"We can talk about all that when we get home."

How long would he keep putting her off? Sonora shook her head. "No, tell me now. How old are you?"

"Sunny, I said when we get home." Ian sounded tired, but Sonora wasn't about to let him off the hook.

"Would that be your home or my home? Because even though you keep telling me you're going to take me home, your aunt sure doesn't think you are going to. Neither did anyone else at that table."

Ian glanced at the floor, a muscle in his tight jaw pulsing. "I am eighty-three years old."

Sonora came to an abrupt stop. "What? What did you say?"

"You heard me, I am eighty-three." Ian put a hand on Sonora's back and guided her toward the wall as a group of laughing Atlantians came by. He scowled when one of them said, "Looks like Sunny got the first of her surprises."

"That would make you over sixty years older than me!" Sonora's eyes stretched wide. That couldn’t possibly be true. It had to be some sort of elaborate joke no matter what Ara said.

Somehow they were at Ian's door. His family said goodnight, but the air was heavy. Aleena murmured, "Son, I hope with everything I have that this goes well for you."

Emotion poured from Ian. "Me too, Mother, me too."

Sonora stared at him. He was scared. Ian had always seemed so strong, so confident. If he was frightened, was this really something she wanted to know?

Twenty-Eight

A Mother’s Fear

Chapter Twenty-eight

The dark-haired man sat at the dinner table surrounded by empty seats. He barely listened to the dull conversation of the others as it droned on. The mother and daughter worked around him, one on the kitchen side of the room making a salad, while the other set the table at which he sat. The younger woman had gone around the table once with the silverware, now she made a second turn with glassware.

This house always used imaginative table settings. He had to give them that. Too colorful for his preference but entertaining, to say the least. This setting was no exception. The garish hues of yellow and orange would compete with the natural colors of the food. He almost winced when that thought came to mind. When it came to dinnerware, as well as everything else, the neutrals of black and white were best. It was unfortunate everyone didn't have good taste.

The man frowned as he reached to his place setting and straightened the fork that lay on a yellow napkin. For all the years he had known this family, been a part of it, he never remembered them properly setting the table, not even once.  He examined the glistening silver tines. At least, they were clean people.

"But Mom, I called her again. She's at work."

Even his spoon seemed tilted, not a lot, just a bit. A small push in the right direction took care of it.

"Well then, we need to figure out who else to call."

The dark-haired man's eyes drifted to the neighbor's place setting. The knife was askew. It sat on an orange napkin crossing the spoon next to it at its tip. He put his fingers to the bottom of the knife, he made a slight adjustment, so it was perfectly perpendicular to the plate.

Azurine turned to her husband as he walked into the kitchen, her eyebrows creased. "Mike, Sunny's been gone too long. Sierra called Kelly, but she's at work. We tried her other friends. Last night, I let it go, but now I'm really worried, and I’m not sure what else to do."

Mike leaned back against the counter. "You're sure you tried everyone?"

The dark-haired man watched as Sierra added glasses to the table. Worried about her sister, she was careless. Sierra slammed it down directly across from him at the top of his plate, not just above the knife, as it should be. A sigh escaped him as he eyed it. Couldn't she try, just try a little?

Before he got his hand on the glass, Sierra moved it to what she thought would be its proper place. She smiled apologetically and said, "I'm sorry, Uncle Devon, I know you like everything arranged properly."

"It's fine, dear." Devon oozed kindness as he instantly forgave her. “I can be a bit troublesome. At least, that's what your Aunt Clare tells me."

"You're no bother, and you know it." Sierra hugged him and giggled. “Besides, you're my favorite uncle."

Devon warmed, as he did only in the presence of his nieces. His usual stiffness loosened enough to show his good humor. It was a joke between him and the girls. Married to Claire, Azurine's only sibling, he was their only uncle.

Devon eyed Sierra as she walked off, making sure she wouldn't catch him as he moved the cup to just the right spot. He shook his head at himself, Sierra and Sonora were his one, no two, weaknesses. His eyes scanned the room, the others he could take or leave, but those two he loved as if they were his own children. Devon shot a glance at his wife, once again thanking whoever ran this universe that he hadn’t had children with that woman.

He smoothed a hand over his hair in case it ruffled during the hug. Even when they were children, Devon would brave their sticky, messy attentions with a smile. A true sign of his affection, he'd always thought.

"If we don't hear from Sunny soon, we are going to have to call the police," Mike said to his wife. "I wish she'd remembered to tell us her plans. The last time this happened, my hand was on the send button."

"That was over a year ago, dear. I don't think Sunny would do that again, not after she saw how upset we were."

Devon's already good posture, got even better as he straightened. He didn't want police anywhere near him or his projects. Worry gnawed at him, but he kept his voice calm. "Why are you calling the police?"

"I thought you heard. Sunny is still missing," Azurine said. Devon witnessed a mother's fear in her eyes. He understood it was the strongest agony there was, a mother frightened for her child. He could not confirm that as he’d never had a mother/child set in his lab. It did make him wonder, though.

A second look at Azurine's wide blue gaze revealed more than the usual panic over a child who had been out of sight for what was deemed too long. Azurine was serious. And that could mean trouble for him.

"Missing?" Devon said, "I thought she was with her friend, Melly."

"Kelly. And no, she wasn't. I know she's not a child, but I haven't heard from her in over twenty-four hours, that's not like her. You know it isn't, Devon."

Devon did know. These were good girls who didn't like to worry their parents. Sonora would've called. He tensed, his words sharper than he intended. "So the last time anyone in this house talked to her was yesterday morning?"

Together, Sierra and Azurine nodded, tears threatening to spill.

Devon stood so fast his chair danced behind him. "My God, people, what is wrong with you? Why did you wait this long?"

Devon scowled at Mike, wondering what the man's problem was. Didn't he know the terrifying things that could happen to people? He started rapidly pacing the room, unaware of the shock on their faces.

"I'll go to the restaurant where she works and trace her steps," Devon said. "Give me an hour before you call the police."

Mike nodded. "Good idea. I'll check the businesses around here."

Devon agreed though he wondered if Mike would be doing anything now if he hadn't initiated it. The man had always been entirely too relaxed for his taste.

Devon strode out of the house before he realized his outburst would seem uncharacteristic and cruel. That type of behavior was reserved for his secret lab, or occasionally, his home. Cursing himself, he ran back into the house and hugged Azurine. "I'm sorry. I'm just frightened for our little girl."

Azurine nodded as she clung to him. "Please, find her."

Devon spotted his wife as she stood by the door with her hands clasped and ordered, "Claire, get in the car."

It seemed Devon's breath was suspended as he sped along the long, flat roads. It wasn't long until he reached Sonora's place of employment. After telling his wife to stay, he ran into the restaurant, calling for Sonora's boss. But he had nothing to say except that Sonora had walked out the other day over an unfortunate encounter with a customer. A quick word with the employees yielded nothing about her whereabouts after her shift. Everyone saw her get in her car and drive away, that was all anyone could tell him.

So where did she go? If that little jackass college student took her, he'd make sure he suffered for it in ways the little deviant couldn't imagine. Devon turned from the others, looking out the window. In the distance, he saw a tiny speck of blue ocean. If Sunny went somewhere on her own, there was where she would go.

Devon ignored all traffic laws as he raced to the shore, his sweaty hands gripping the wheel. Half-expecting to hear the wail of a siren behind him, he was surprised he made it without getting pulled over. The tires squealed as Devon turned the car into the half-hidden parking lot. When he found Sonora's car, he swung into the spot beside it.

He jumped out of his car and examined hers. He heaved a sigh of relief that it seemed undamaged. Studying the inside, he saw nothing that appeared odd.

Devon waved for Claire to follow him and ran to the beach, stopping when he reached the edge of the sand. His gaze traveled down one side of the golden-colored ground to the other as far as he could see, his heart thumping. Beach-goers were sparse today. It was easy to see Sonora was not here.

After bringing a picture of Sunny up on his phone, Devon turned to the person closest to him and asked if they had seen her. Devon continued through almost all the people there without success. His face downcast, he crouched down to a young girl and her mother as they played in the sand.

The mother brightened. "Yes, I saw her when we were here yesterday. She was suited up for snorkeling and headed out that way." She pointed to the North side of the ocean. Then realizing what that could mean, her eyes widened, and she mouthed 'sorry' over the small girl's head.

Devon and Claire exchanged a devastated look. Devon's stomach rolled, and he reached for his wife's hand. Claire's tears indicated her fear the girl had drowned, but Devon's anguish ran deeper.

Was it them? Did the Atlantians know he was the one who tormented them and took his niece in retaliation? If they did to Sunny even a small portion of what Devon had done to them, it would be far more torturous than any death she would have from a simple drowning.

Chills ran through his body as he imagined all the tortures his young niece could be enduring.

Twenty-Nine

Talk

Chapter Twenty-nine

Ian held the door as Sunny stepped through it. The light material of her gown caught his eye as it flowed behind her, then lightly caressed the back of her legs when she stopped. Sunny hesitated and looked at the floor before moving toward the room she'd slept in last night.

Ian ached to let her go, because after this, nothing would be the same. But he couldn't. "Sunny, we do need to talk." He prayed she felt something more for him than he knew.

After all the nagging she had done to learn more, Sunny seemed afraid to hear anything at all, refusing even to face him. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed. We can talk tomorrow."

Ian shook his head. "No, now. This can wait no longer."

Sunny’s shoulders moved with a soft sigh. Ian sensed her reluctance, almost a feeling of dread. She turned and allowed him to lead her to the soft chairs near the window. When Sunny sat, she clenched the arms of the chair, causing the material to pucker under her whitened fingers.

Ian sat at the edge of his chair, elbows on knees, and scrubbed his hands over his face a couple of times before starting. How does one explain the impossible? She had seen so much already, could she accept something more? Something that would change her life forever if she accepted it, or his if she did not.

He was afraid. An emotion Ian had little experience with. Because if Sunny didn't agree, he could not fathom what his life would be like after this conversation. From the first moment Ian had seen Sonora, it had been moving toward this. He put a hand on his shaky stomach. There was nothing to do now but open his mouth and speak.

"As you know, we are all humans, so in most ways, we are alike." Ian cleared his tightened throat. “Some fundamental differences you have noticed, we are a bit larger, more muscular, faster, breathe less, and as you now know, we live longer. Being down here so long, we have adapted.

"Some differences we understand, some we are not sure why they've happened. There are a few other minor ones but one major one. That is what I need to speak to you about." Ian's gaze strayed from Sunny’s wide, sky-blue eyes to the window before coming back to her. How to explain it? She wasn't raised with this. It would seem ludicrous. Humans switched bed partners, let alone mates, as if the bedroom were a dance floor.

"Sunny, my people have a tremendous capacity for empathy. Much more than the average human ability. This leads to more harmony, more unity. We think less of our own needs because we understand on a deeper level how other people feel. It is a good thing. It helps us keep peaceful relations between all the clans.

"That empathy is exponentially greater when we meet the person we are intended to spend our life with. Our, as you would say, husband or wife. We somehow know this is the person who is ideal for us from the moment we see them." Ian blew out a short, hard breath. "It is hard to explain."

Sunny sat forward in her seat, her hands now folded in her lap, a little smile lighting her face. "I understand. Love at first sight, like in the storybooks. Some people, humans, say that has happened to them."

Ian frowned as he searched for words that would explain it more accurately. "Maybe, but so, so much greater. Our emotions and thoughts become so entwined with theirs, we can sense their emotions."

Sunny frowned as she tried to understand. "Like ESP?”

"No, it is not a mental thing. It is emotional. If one is sad, the other feels the emotion along with them. If the other is happy, the same. Do you understand?"

"I think so." Sunny glowed. "That is beautiful."

Ian nodded. His stomach muscles tightened, and he gripped the arm of the chair until it protested as he hauled in a breath to say his next words. "And when we are side by side with our Intended, our Jata Ara, as they fight for their life we sense that too." Ian leaned forward and took Sonora's hands, searching her face. "Just as I felt you when you willed yourself to hold your breath, as I sensed your pain as your lungs burned for air, and as I discerned the light of life leave you."

Ian stopped and waited, his body straining tighter and tighter as he anticipated her next words.

"You mean…" Sonora's smile was replaced by confusion. "You mean, you and me?" She pointed to him and herself.

Awareness flickered on Sunny’s lovely face, the wonder of it, the beauty of it. Finally, the reality of it.

She would live here. Never go back to her own family, her own life, to what she loved in the world above.

Emotions tumbled across Sunny’s face until it stopped on the one Ian had hoped, prayed he would not see. There was something for him, but it was not enough.

Ian was unable to tear his eyes from her. His beauty, his Jata Ara. A tiny line creased Sunny’s forehead, and her sadness welled. She glanced out the window to the sea, brought her gaze inside to travel though his home and eventually settled her lovely eyes on him. Tears falling, she refused it all.

And his heart broke.

Thirty

Endara

Chapter Thirty

Tears fell as Sonora watched Ian slowly close his eyes and drop his head. This is what he had wanted all this time? For her to make a home here with him? Her insides shook with the realization she had known this all along. But how could she leave her life on land, her family? An icy fear overtook her.

Ian raised his head, determination covering his face. His voice was rough with emotion. "Have you sensed nothing?"

Maybe. When Ian explained the deep connection between two lovers, it had resonated on some level with her. But what good would admitting that do?

"No," Sonora said bluntly. Ian’s normally tan face paled so light it frightened her, and she quickly said. "You're attractive, so attractive. You've saved my life not once, but two times, and you’re kind to me. Attentive even. If you were from my home, I would jump at the chance to go out with you. But this…" Sonora waved her hand in a circle. "this is a lot. Do you really mean for me to stay here? Leave everything in my life behind? I just can't do that."

"You feel something for me. I know you do. Stay a few days and see what happens. Perhaps your attachment will deepen. It might work slower for you."

Was Ian able to sense her emotions as well as he'd explained even though she didn't sense his? "Stay and get closer? That would just make it harder to leave. This has all been like some... like some fairytale to me. None of this, from the time I entered the water yesterday to now, seems real. It's as if I am in some kind of dream." Sonora pleaded with Ian. "Please understand, I just can't do this."

Ian stood and leaned against the side of the window as was his habit, his voice gruff. "Do you think I wanted to fall for a human? It is the worst nightmare of an Atlantian! I could not predict this rejection, yet all I saw were problems. You will never feel the same empathy I do, your lifespan is so short, and all the small daily differences. Did you know I adjusted the oxygen output for your comfort?"

Sonora shook her head, tears pooling as Ian continued, his words gathering intensity. "Look what the humans do to us! I would constantly need to explain having a human as a wife. No, I did not seek this out. I fought against it until I could not fight it any longer."

Sonora didn't know whether she should be angry or apologetic for not measuring up to Atlantian standards. "Not my family,” she said. “My family has not hurt anyone!"

Ian turned and sank to his knees in front of her, gathering up her hands. "Of course, they don't. I did not mean… this all seems a bit of insanity. I cannot believe after waiting so long to find you this is happening." He laid his head on her knees.

Sonora nodded. What did it matter what Ian said, anyway? He was upset, angry. No one liked to be refused. As long as Ian saw this would not work. Sonora squeezed his hand. "It will be hard at first, but I'm sure we'll both be fine in a little while. And soon you'll find a nice Atlantian girl and settle down."

Ian uttered a hard chuckle. "No, this ridiculousness is my life. There will be no Atlantian girl, only you."

Heat rushed to Sonora’s cheeks. "Well, that is very flattering--"

"I am not complementing you. I am telling you the facts."

Sonora's eyes narrowed as she gave a slight shake of her head. "What do you mean?"

“There is only one." Ian caressed Sonora's hands as he explained. "One Intended, Jata Ara. I have searched for mine for years, throughout all the kingdoms of the sea. Until my family and I despaired of me ever finding a wife." He gave a sad laugh. "I am quite late for finding a mate, now I know why. The second I saw you, I knew."

"Are you saying that in the whole world, I'm the only person who you can be... Intended with?"

"Yes."

Sonora gasped. Her eyes widened as she stared into Ian's anguished grey ones. "No, it can't be true," she whispered, bowing her head.

Ian brushed back Sonora's hair then dried her cheeks with his thumb. "It is." He dipped his head to reconnect their eyes. "You are my life. Edinara. My heart. Stay with me. Tell me your dreams, and I will do my best to make them come true.”

She couldn’t stop from glancing out the ocean window.

He followed her gaze and continued. “I will show you all the mysteries of this ocean you love so much, show you more than you ever imagined. With me come all the answers, I will not hold back a single one."

"How is that fair to you? How can I stay knowing you care for me as you do, and I don't know how I feel at all? Perhaps I would never sense the connection."

"It will be enough. I will make it enough. I am the one that fell for a human."

"Ian—“

He smiled and put a finger to the side of her mouth. "I love the sound of my name on your lips."

Sonora swallowed a sob. “Oh, Ian. I’m so sorry.”

"Shh, my heart. It is okay." Ian leaned his head against hers. "I already know. I knew the instant you decided.”

Thirty-One

Our Son

Chapter Thirty-one

Jorah and Aleena held each other as they stood next to the floor to ceiling window in their bedchamber. Their sad eyes trailed Ian and Sonora as they left the city, their faces mirroring their son's emotions.

Aleena wiped at the tears coursing down her cheeks. "I had thought when Aunt Coral gave her approval, the worse was over."

"Me too, darling." Jorah's voice was gruff with emotion. He'd tried to hold back the tears, but he was failing.

"We can make her stay, even if Ian won't."

Jorah shook his head, admonishing his wife. "You know as well as I do, that if she is not happy, he will not be."

Unable to watch any further, Aleena tore her gaze from her son's sagging shoulders and buried her head in her husband's chest. "Our poor son! What kind of life will he have now?”

Thirty-Two

I Wish…

Chapter Thirty-two

Head bowed, Sonora sat on the water bike in front of Ian as they moved through the ocean to her home. Ian drove slowly, his arms encircling her. He'd asked her to sit in front of him, and Sonora hadn't had the heart to deny him this last bittersweet pleasure.

Sonora had spent the night tossing and turning. On more than one occasion, she'd gotten up and gazed out the window at the dark sea, wondering what it would be like to live there. But once the morning broke, Sonora knew the answer. It was the same one she'd given to Ian the night before.

Neither one of them had spoken this morning. When Sonora walked out of her room, Ian quietly handed her something to eat and motioned for her to follow him.

The ride back home seemed both longer and shorter than Sonora remembered. It was definitely less frightening, but much more tortured. Ian was a good man. She knew that now. A really good man. But to give up everything she had ever known, possibly forever, he would need to be better than a really good man. He would need to be the love of her life.

Her feelings did not match his, didn't even come close to what Ian felt. And if she were honest, the intensity of his scared her a little. The pain she saw in his eyes every time she looked at him reminded Sonora he believed she was his whole life.

But this relationship wasn't perfect for Ian, no matter what he thought of her. Sonora recalled his list of grievances from yesterday. His constant need to explain his human wife. She would probably never have the same deep emotion he did. He couldn't even be comfortable in his own home because of her needs.

Sonora glanced at Ian and lowered her head. She hadn't even used his name, something Ian had apparently yearned for her to do. She'd failed him so much already. Her mere existence failed him. And how could she ever be with someone who saw her as less than himself? Less than his people? No matter Ian's feelings, he believed humans were inferior. Sonora's hot tears mixed with the saltwater. She put a hand to her mouth to hold back a sob. No matter what she felt, she couldn't live like that.

When Ian slowed the bike, Sonora looked up at the surface of the water. They were here.

They stood waist-deep in the water, just out of sight of the beach, to say their goodbyes.

"Can I just—“ Ian reached for her hand and gently took it into his large one. He lightly traced each of her fingers. No words were exchanged. The only sounds were the calls of the birds, the splash of the ocean waves and their own tortured breathing.

Ian kept his eyes glued to the patterns he traced on her hands. "You take my heart with you. Treat it kindly, perhaps one day, you will bring it back to me."

Sonora laid a hand on his stubbled cheek. "I'm so sorry, Ian. Maybe… Maybe when I'm older."

Ian raised his eyes to hers, and Sonora saw more than sadness. She saw fear and grief. Grief over losing her? Fear of what his life would be like once she left?

This situation wasn't her fault, but guilt weighed heavy on her. She looked at the ocean so she couldn't see the pain clearly written on Ian's face. "I wish you would have never seen me."

Ian's eyes widened, and he crushed Sonora to him. "Do not say that. Never think that. One moment with you is worth all the pain."

Sonora pulled away but weaved her fingers through Ian's. Her tears splashed on their clasped hands. Her voice broke as she spoke, asking the question she already knew the answer to. "What is it you want from me?"

"I want you to feel the way I do. But if you cannot, I want you to go and never tell me where you are. Because if you do, I will not be able to stay away. I fear the instinct is too great for me to control. That I would come for you and drag you back to my home."

Sonora gave the smallest shake of her head. She didn't want to stay hidden from him. Ian put a hand under her chin and raised her head. Her gaze flew to his. Tears flooded his eyes, but his tone was firm. "Do you understand?"

Sonora nodded. Her eyes searched his face, memorizing it before she looked down at their hands. Her small, pale ones in his large, darker ones. She squeezed his once, then pulled and broke their connection.

Turning toward the beach, she took a step. Just one, before turning back and flying into Ian's arms. He gasped. Tightly embracing, she listened to the thump of his heart as her head lay against his bare chest. Ian laid his head upon hers, as Sonora said, "I am glad we met. I only wish..."

"I know." The words rumbled through Ian's chest, and she closed her eyes.

Once again she pulled away, then quickly turned and walked through the waves toward the beach. This time she didn't look back until she reached the shore. But as hard as Sonora searched the waves, she couldn't find Ian.

Thirty-Three

Home

Chapter Thirty-Three

Shoulders bent, Sonora stood at the water's edge, her feet firmly planted in the light-tan sand. She faced the open ocean, her blonde hair dancing as the wind came off the water. Behind her lay her family's homes, her grandfather's, her parents and her aunt and uncle's, all the porches empty but one. Aunt Claire and Uncle Devon sat on their swing enjoying the evening and sneaking a glance or two at their troubled niece.

Sonora wiggled her toes as the warm waves barely swept over them carrying little bits of sand and rocks lightly scraping against her skin. She lifted her foot and swirled a toe through the small eddies the water made on its inward trek. This was as much ocean as she can handle now.

She’d been home a month. And while she hoped Atlantis would fade away like the dream it seemed to be, it continued its hold on her. And it was not just the city invading her thoughts but also a certain inhabitant.

The day she’d come home, Sonora had walked out of the ocean and into her family's arms, literally. They had all been peering into her car as she crossed the beach. It bothered her that the moment she saw them, she started lying to them. She felt like she hadn't stopped since.

First, there were about a million questions concerning where she had been. She couldn't exactly tell them the truth. Sonora scoffed at herself. Oh yeah, Mom and Dad, a crazy non-breather dragged her to his ocean home against her will. Turns out it's Atlantis, yep that's the one! And he wanted to be her boyfriend or something. Yeah, that would get her a trip to the looney bin.

So Sonora told them a version of the truth. She got hit by a small rogue wave, and a man named Ian saved her. She was disoriented, not enough to go to the hospital, but a bit dizzy, so his family kindly took care of her. And it was too bad, but her family had just missed meeting him.

From the questions her family continued to ask, it was clear they thought something was off. Not to mention the strange stare Uncle Devon gave her.

Sonora had moped around the house for days before deciding she might as well add to the lying. With Sierra's help, she was able to get into a couple of marine biology classes at the college. Now she needed to keep them a secret from her parents and make excuses for her absences.

Between classes and work, her busy schedule helped keep her mind off the ocean and what was below it. Still, whenever Sonora got a moment to herself, there was only one place her mind went. And now her brooding turned to anger.

She hadn't asked Ian to show her his world or tell her about his feelings. She hadn't wanted that. He forced it on her. If he was a normal person, they would have a relationship. But no, he had to be... Atlantian. It seemed strange for Sonora to even think the word up here.

Admittedly, Ian was an extremely attractive, kind, attentive Atlantian. Who believes humans are below him, including her. How would that work? Not well for her.

Sonora drew back her leg and kicked at the water as hard as she was able. She huffed out a sharp sigh before turning around and heading for the house.

Sonora walked to her aunt and uncle and plopped herself down between them as she had since childhood. With no children of their own, they welcomed every opportunity with their nieces. They both put an arm around her, and Sonora laid her head first against her aunt, then her uncle.

"Oh you poor dear," Aunt Claire said, "Tell us what's upset you. You haven't been the same since you've been back."

Sonora stilled for a moment, worried her agitation revealed too much. Best to let everyone think the water accident traumatized her. She lowered her gaze. "I don't know. I'm a little afraid of the ocean now, I guess. After the wave and all. It's upsetting."

Uncle Devon patted her head as he gave her a sidelong look. "Yes, well, if that's all it is, I'm sure you'll get past it. It will take a bit of time, Sunny."

Tears welled in Sonora's eyes. Unknown to her uncle, she told herself those same words every day. And they echoed what her grandfather said to her just this morning.

Sonora and her grandfather often accompanied each other for a morning walk on the beach. Since returning from Atlantis, it turned into a daily occurrence. Her grandfather was always there for the family and now, keeping true to his nature, he was there for her.

Sometimes Sonora and Blake chatted, and sometimes they just walked, his quiet strength filling her with every step they took. Occasionally, Sonora wondered if her grandfather knew something more than what she told him. More often than not, she was sure he suspected.

This morning it had been foggier than usual as though more salt hung in the air. After staring at her, Grandpa had put his arm around Sonora and said, "You'll be fine, girlie. I know you will."

Sonora nodded as she raised her arm to his waist and returned his hug.

"You know, Sunny, you've always been the most like me, even more than my own children. More than the blonde hair and blue eyes. Funny how it sometimes turns out like that. You and I, we feel things deeply, don't we? I know you’re hurting, but you'll mend. Healing takes a little bit longer for you and me."

Grandpa smiled down at her, and Sonora saw something in his eyes, something ancient and tragic. She wondered if he meant when he lost grandma. The question was on her lips when one of his friends walked up to them.

"Blake Karras, as I live and breathe, it certainly has been a while!"

Sonora smiled and shook the man's hand when her grandfather had proudly introduced her. As the old men reminisced, her gaze drifted out to the sea.

Thirty-Four

Lessons

Chapter Thirty-four

That evening, Devon sat in the living room with the rest of his wife's family. Blake had made dinner for everyone, grilling up an all-American meal of hot dogs and hamburgers. A serving of apple pie with a dollop of vanilla ice cream completed the meal. Devon patted his toned stomach, he'd eaten more than he should have.

He flashed a glanced at his father-in-law. Blake told some story about his girls when they were small. Devon made a show of looking at his watch, but no one took the hint. He supposed he was in for at least another hour of this.

He winced when he looked at the dirty dessert plates littering the coffee table. Why did everyone just leave the dishes sitting around. He carried them into the kitchen, rinsed them, and set them in the dishwasher. Over the clacking of the plates, Devon heard Sonora as she came into the kitchen with more dishes.

"Hey, Uncle Devon, I thought you might like some help."

"Ah, dear. Yes, I would."

For a few minutes, they worked in silence, until a spray of water hit a plate the wrong way and bounced back at Sonora, causing them to burst into laughter.

"So, how are you feeling this evening, Sunny?" Devon carefully watched her. "Any better?"

Sonora focused on the dish she washed. "Yes, much. I was just overdramatic earlier. What's done is done. I need to move on now and quit dwelling in the past."

"Very wise, Sunny. Moving on is usually the best course of action. You have a lot to keep you busy."

After a quick glance up at her uncle, Sonora scrubbed the plate harder. "Yeah, I sure do. Believe it or not, I got my job back. I was sure after I walked out, Bob would fire me. But he said I was too good a worker to let go and wants me to pick up as many shifts as I can. He even put up this big sign at the restaurant that says, ‘Touch a Server, You get Served... by the Cops.’”

"Good for him! Always knew I liked that man. I'm glad he is sticking up for our little girl."

Sonora giggled. "I'm not so little anymore, Uncle Devon."

"Yeah, well, you always will be to us." Dishwasher filled, Devon started to hand-wash the pans. "Why don't you listen to your grandpa's stories. I can finish up in here."

"You sure?" Sonora asked. When Devon nodded, she went back to her seat on the couch.

That girl was hiding something. Devon's heart thumped as he worried about what it might be. But to think she somehow found out about Atlantians and continued acting like everything was normal was too incredible. Still, what if... No, it was probably what Claire thought, she has a crush on that Ian character.

Done with the dishes, Devon walked back into the living room and sat on the arm of the dark-brown puffy chair his wife sat in. He hated puffy chairs, but it seemed like every man over forty felt they needed to have one.

Devon put an arm around his wife and pulled her close. She tried to draw away, as she always did. He ignored her behavior and tugged harder. She'd started this shortly after their marriage—it was just her way. She was an independent woman, and he sometimes had to use a firm hand. Devon smiled down at his wife, other than her little quirks, they'd always had an excellent marriage.

"Are you ready to go, my dear?" he whispered close to her ear. Claire nodded. He loved how thoughtful she was, always anxious to please him. "I have to go into the lab tonight." Claire's face paled, and Ian continued, "No worries. You will stay at home. You could use the rest." Claire once again nodded, this time more enthusiastically.

Devon and Claire said their goodbyes to the family, and after he dropped his wife off at home, Devon drove to his lab. His secret one.

They’d brought a new specimen in today. From his pocket, Devon pulled a paper containing a long, detailed list of the experiments he wanted to perform this week. He chided himself for being so excited, but this was practical. He would complete this first experiment by morning and have a head start.

Devon whistled a peppy tune as he marched through the glass doors into the all-white lab. The aroma of fresh hay and wood shavings filled the room from the cages of his small laboratory animals.

He flipped the light switch on. All came to life, but one. It blinked twice, then lingered somewhere between light and nothing for a moment before powering up. Devon made a mental note to have the defective bulb replaced.

When Devon peered at the cages and tanks containing the small animals, they scurried around their pens seeking shelter. But Devon always made sure there was no shelter, no sanctuary for any specimen in this room. No sense in making it harder for himself when he needed to use them. He tapped on the glass of one agitated rat. "Don't worry. Not your turn today."

Devon picked up the cattle prod sitting on the countertop and banged it against the metal table on his left. He wanted it to know what was coming. Devon's employees had said this one was a fighter. The audacity of the thing.

The closer Devon got, the more he smelled its stink. Sea salt and dankness.

He brought the cattle prod close to the Atlantian's bruised face and pushed the 'on' button. It sizzled and sparked. The Atlantian jerked away from it, and Devon laughed. The thing knew what it could do.

Devon crouched down to get a closer look. The blonde male was so like a human and yet not one at all. It was so large, it barely fit in the barred enclosure.

The abomination glanced at Devon with apprehension, if not outright fear. Its eyes glazed with pain and drugs, the only things keeping it under control. Devon smiled at the defiant light the Atlantian still had. They never gave up the fight, never recognized when he conquered them. But he did.

Devon put a finger on its tattoo, tracing one symbol and wondering what it meant. The thing tried to move away but was too confined. It shook the small cage and growled words Devon didn't understand.

Devon chuckled. "It always starts with the growling and ends with whining. The night is young."

It shook the cage harder.

"There is only one acceptable thing about you people. It is the good you can do for humankind. I will take you apart piece by piece. I will bleed anything beneficial from you and yours and use it to help me and mine. If it's the last thing I do. And I'll take the greatest pleasure in doing it."

The caged man stilled and stared at Devon.

Devon flushed with excitement. “You know who I am, don’t you?”

The thing looked at the floor and shuddered.

Devon leaned toward him and whispered, “I’m going to send you home in pieces too.”

He watched the man from the water pull at the bars. “You can’t get out. I’ve made them special. So give up. Tonight is about learning. I will take the time to teach you what you are and what I am. This beating you've had is clearly not enough. I've had you drugged enough to be compliant, but not enough to miss out on this important lesson. You need to recognize who is in charge. I use electricity to teach that. It seems to have more of an effect on your people."

Devon waited for it and wasn't disappointed. The first whine of dread. He tapped the cattle prod to the cage to give the thing a preview of what was to come, then held it there letting it send its steely shock to every point that touched the thing’s body.

When the Atlantian's eyes rolled back, and he passed out, Devon stared at him. Then he stood and whistled as he prepared for the next lesson.

Thirty-Five

Broke

Chapter Thirty-five

Two years to the day after Sunny left him, Ian sat in a car his eyes glued on a building across the street. It had taken him a long time to get to a place where he could trust himself to walk on land and not scour the earth for her. Ian recalled the months it took before he cared if he lived, to ate, or breathed. He raised a hand to rub the middle of his chest. He still wasn't sure his heart ever beat.

Ian remembered every detail of the day he took Sonora back as if it were happening this moment. Her silky blonde hair shadowing her face as she bowed her head. Her tears, his pain.

The pain was still there, like a thousand blades slicing at his heart. It never stopped. And it never would. Even being on land tricked him, Ian was sure he could sense Sunny’s presence. He crushed the thought, unable to believe it could be true.

Though Ian tried to control it, his mind wandered back to that day, as if in punishment, as if to give him one moment of peace was too much. He'd watched every slow step Sonora took through the water, willing her to turn around, to fly back into his arms. But she didn't.

She walked into her family's arms as Ian watched, unable or unwilling to break his last sight of her. He knew what it would mean for him. His happiness walked with her.

Ian ached as he saw her turn and look for him. Drank in the fact that she tried, but he stayed hidden. Another goodbye was not in him.

When Sonora's car turned from the parking lot, and his connection to her faded to emptiness, Ian broke. It was quiet, just a small snap somewhere inside him. He supposed it wasn't really audible. The feel of it just made it seem as though there was a sound.

After that, a black hole sat where his heart used to be. Sonora carried his heart. It took all he had not to let that black hole grow, to overtake him, or what was left of him, anyway.

For the first time, Ian understood the infamous Argos. The man's name was whispered in their halls instead of spoken, if it was said at all. A man who fell so deep into grief he'd lost the man he once was and become a monster.

Argos had let that blackness grow until hate and destruction filled him. That is what Ian fought.

When Ian returned home that day, he'd entered his house, locked all the doors, and buried himself in the quiet darkness. At first, it seemed to soothe him.

His mother and father knocked then pounded at the door in their concern. It was unusual for a door to be locked to the rest of them. Ian knew it fueled their worry, but he had no desire or will to move.

Finally, on his father's shouted threats that he would send a few burly cousins to bust down the door, Ian opened it to them. But his family's pity was too much. It was bad enough before he found his Jata Ara, but now to have found and lost her, it was beyond bearing.

So Ian turned away visitors, once again locking his doors and embracing darkness. It was then the dark began whispering its evil thoughts.

He was a tracker. It would be a small thing to find her and drag her down here.

If her family died, she would have nowhere to go. It was a simple act to kill a human. A quick twist of the neck and this would be her only home.

She would get used to it, the voice whispered. She would be here. It would be enough.

The gloom overtook Ian until all he almost could not see. Until he worried that soon he would not want to see. He shook it off long enough to seek out the ones who would most understand.

The widowers.

Though very rare for an Atlantian to lose a mate while young, older widowers whose mates had left them too early did exist. The darkness must also dwell within them.

They were his real source of comfort. The ones who suffered the edge of the blade piercing their soul every waking moment, the ones who carried a black hole instead of a heart, the ones who ignored the whispers that spoke of death.

Ian listened to their wise words and drowned out the murmuring. He found every widower had their own way of pushing the dark away, but there was one common thread. Keep the hours filled with something, anything.

At the start, Ian's puny efforts often failed. He would end up lying on the couch, staring at nothing in particular until the whispers started again. Sometimes, he would sleep, finding unconsciousness the only way he could make it through the day.

But as time went on, Ian found he could make it through most of the hours as if he were some semblance of an Atlantian. More importantly, he became skilled at keeping the blackness at bay. Most of the time.

This was the best it would be, the way it would always be, the widowers told him. There would never be an ease to the grief, as sometimes seemed to be the case for humans. For Atlantians, it stayed as raw as the moment it happened.

The emotion in the old men's eyes held a warning and a hope out to him. None could change their own situation, yet each knew Ian could reach out and take Sonora, and end his own suffering. It was clear some would have done so.

Ian's hand gripped the car console until it cracked. Even now, the thought of taking her never left his mind. He had less control of his emotions than the day she left. It had been all he could do to get her home. He'd almost turned around a hundred times. And Ian knew if Sonora stood before him now, he would drag her back, kicking and screaming.

Ian uttered a sad little chuckle. And she would kick and scream. But if he saw her…

He shook his head. What was it that lingered in Atlantians? They controlled themselves better than humans, but still, this darkness lay within them.

Ian's gaze narrowed as a movement at the building he watched caught his eye. He sighed. He'd come up here to continue his mission to find the traitor. Others had tried and failed. At least, it was a way he could help his people. He needed to put away his thoughts of Sunny and focus on that.

Thirty-Six

The Artifact

Chapter Thirty-six

Ian scanned the street and the building he planned on visiting. Unlike many pawnshops, this one boasted a clean, attractive appearance. Part pawnshop, part beach rentals, the building had colorful surf and bodyboards lined up against its outer wall. Built with a rusty-colored brick, the pawnshop sat along the sidewalk on Main Street, bright blue awnings shaded the windows. It's small-town charm matched the appeal of the other buildings on the street.

There was no bad side to this sleepy little town called Seaside. And although each structure exhibited its own design, it seemed as though the city council decided, some time ago, the buildings of the city should appear unified. The blue awnings which hung at most of the windows, and the planters bursting with multi-colored flowers sitting on each side of the main doors seemed to do the trick.

Besides the pawnshop, this street housed a music store, a shoe store, and a men's clothing store. Further down the road stood a few restaurants, most of which Ian had tried at one time or another. And at the corner, the busiest place on the street, a coffee shop.

A couple leaving the pawnshop caught Ian's eye. Now was the time to go into the shop, if he wanted the owner's undivided attention. It tended to stray if he had other customers inside the store. Ian hopped out of his car and ran across the street. He reached the front door just as Rick turned the sign from OPEN to CLOSED.

Had he been sitting there that long? He wasn't doing as well as he'd hoped.

Ian's eyebrow jerked up when Rick hesitated. He slapped a hand-drawn picture of the Artifact to the glass, reminding the man of the importance of this visit. It was clear Ian's size, if nothing else, intimidated him.

Rick nodded and unlocked the door. "Hey, sorry, dude. I gotta night planned so I don't have a lotta time." He slowly drew out his words, enunciating them in such a way there was no doubt he was born by the beach. Rick pushed back his sun-bleached hair with a well-tanned hand while eyeing Ian.

Ian scoffed. ”We all have plans." From the looks of Rick, his plans included a bottle and maybe something more.

Rick swallowed. "Yeah, sure, of course. Lookin a little rough today? Gnarly night?"

Ian ignored him and walked to the counter.

"Dude, let me guess. babe trouble? Let me tell ya—" Rick seemed about to launch into a story about his own woman trouble. Ian didn't want to hear it.

"Stop. That's not what I am here for," Ian practically growled.

Rick threw his arms up. "Hey, sorry! Didn't mean to upset ya."

One glance at Rick's surprised and almost hurt face, and Ian told himself to calm down. The last time he was here had been before—before her. The man Ian had been then was friendly and charming. That man had gotten Rick's help, barely. Acting like this would not help him get anything from the pawnshop owner.

"No, I apologize." Ian shook his head. "Your right, it's that. I just can't talk about it."

"Too fresh. I get it, dude. I get it."

Ian laid the picture he carried on the counter and tapped it with his finger. "Did you find out anything about this?"

"I'd never seen anything like that box before you brought the picture round the first time. Not really the kind of thing I deal in here. So I reckoned I wouldn't have any answers for ya."

Ian slumped, leaning on the counter. He'd known it was a long shot. But this was the only lead right now, his others had dried up.

"But then I started thinking." Rick chuckled, "Something I try not to do too much or for too long. My family's been on these waters a long time, and you hear things. Stories. Even my grandma, she tells me stories. She used to say, 'Rickie.' That's what she likes to call me. 'Rickie,' she'd say, 'there's a lot more to this world than you or I know.' My parents used to laugh at her, but I never did. She used to fish out there with her daddy. She knew things. Told me a few of them."

Ian stilled. Rick laid his arm next to Ian's and picked up a black light. If Ian was going to leave, he needed to do it now.

Rick gave him a hard stare before clicking the black light on. The light showed what Ian knew it would. With little variation, Rick's skin was a dark, eerie blue color.

Ian's was not. The slight luminescence of his skin enhanced tenfold beneath the light creating a brilliant effect. Though mostly blue, the color was radiant with patterned lines and dots in dark reds and purple scattering his skin. Even a few flecks of gold caught the light.

It seemed to have an almost hypnotizing effect on Rick, similar to the stare Ian had seen humans give tanks full of glowing jellyfish. Those tanks were something he’d learned to stay well away from.

"Wow, man, wow. This is trippin'. Just like Grandma said." Rick shot Ian a look before going back to Ian's arm. "You're like this all over?"

"Yep."

"Born like this?"

"Yes."

When Ian pulled his arm away, Rick grunted his disappointment.

The man’s eyes lit up. Ian sighed. He knew what was coming next.

"Do you grow a tail and everything?" Rick asked.

It was always the first question. But on one thing, Rick was right. There were always stories circulating in the coastal towns. How could there not be? No matter how hard the Atlantians tried to stay hidden, there were enough humans on the water nowadays, they sighted them from time to time. So the council had decided to use that to their favor. If it would help Ian get information on the traitor or the Artifact he'd stolen, he was permitted to tell people about himself. And whenever Ian did, this was their first question. "No, we don't grow tails."

Rick looked disappointed. "So, this Artifact. It’s really your people's."

"Yes, it was stolen from us."

"I knew it, dude! That ain't right, that's what I think. So I asked around, and I might have something. A buddy of mine works at the Natural History Museum over near the city. He says he's seen something like this in the basement storage there.”

Ian's heart thumped. "Here? Right here at the museum a half-hour away?"

"Yeah bro, that one." Rick stood and crossed his arms. "Ready to be totally amped? He said they're getting it ready to loan to The Marine Center here in town. They're going to open an exhibit with that as the centerpiece."

Ian stepped back, stunned. A relief he hadn't felt since the beginning of this hunt filled him. Ian put a hand to the countertop and easily jumped the counter. Rick's eyes rounded when Ian grabbed Rick and hugged him, then thumped him on the back. Rick accepted the heartfelt, if somewhat crushing, appreciation with grace.

"I have searched the world for this, Rick. Followed the person who stole it to every single continent before losing their trail. Now, you have found it! You will be rewarded."

While Rick stammered his appreciation, another thought came to Ian. If the Artifact landed practically in the Atlantian's back yard, was the traitor too? "Is there anything about who brought it in?"

"There was a tag with the address on the box. But see the address is all blurred. Doesn't seem to be anyone special. If its who I think,I’ve only heard good things about the dude. He just lives down the road here." Rick pointed to the direction as he handed Ian the address.

Ian took the paper and stared at it speechless, his hands trembling. If only his father was close enough to share the news.

Could this really be the traitor? The one who had taken what was not his? The Artifact. Something crucial for both his people and humans. If only for that, the man needed to be caught. But this traitor was behind the murder of his own people, even if he did use humans to do it. Ian shuddered as he remembered the mutilated bodies of friends and family who had been sent out to sea, mocking the entire Atlantian people. If the man on this paper was the traitor, he could finally stop him.

Ian smiled and enthusiastically shook Rick's hand, but after noticing the man's small grimace of pain, loosened his grip. "Thank you! I cannot explain how important this is." Ian stared at Rick. "And about me, do I need to say..."

"Yep, I know. It's nothin' but tall tales. I wish ya'll the best, dude."

Ian pounded Rick on the back again as he left. Rick stood at the door watching as Ian walked to his car. A bemused look on his face as he rubbed his shoulder.

Thirty-Seven

This is What Happens…

Chapter Thirty-seven

Just a few buildings from the pawnshop Ian stood in, Sonora sat in the coffee shop. A small restaurant, it contained less than fifteen tables on the inside and four on the sidewalk in front of the large windows facing the street. Couches and stuffed chairs broke up the tables to create a homey appeal, and the aroma of roasted coffee and sweet treats added to the illusion.

It was a slow time of the day, and other than the customers who took their orders to go, Sonora practically had the place to herself. Only one other table was taken by two moms who chatted as their babies slept in their strollers.

Sonora sat at her table alone, sipping her coffee, her laptop opened in front of her as she finished a college assignment. She chewed her lip as she brainstormed the perfect sentence to end her latest paper. Why was the last sentence always the hardest?

She had to laugh at herself. This is what she’d wanted, to go to college, so she shouldn’t complain. Sure, waiting tables, most days, may be easier than writing her thousandth report but it wouldn’t get her what she needed in the long run.

What she needed to do was tell her family about her secret college classes, instead of pretending she worked so much. Sonora hated lying to them, but it was necessary to explain her time away from home. After two years, it had got old long ago. And it made her feel guilty, and distanced her from her family. Her morning walks with her grandfather, and breakfast around the table were regulated to the times she could talk about her day.

Last night, Sonora had tried again to tell them. But when she merely mentioned looking into classes, her mother had gotten that pinched look on her face. So she bit her lips and kept silent. At least she could talk about it to Sierra.

Sonora sighed and pulled her tired eyes from the computer screen. She rubbed them and took a sip of her coffee before turning her gaze to the large window. From here, she saw the ocean just past the street and a few buildings across from her. It was really kicking up today. She wondered… No, stop. She couldn’t wonder.

But even as she berated herself, he lingered in her mind. Had Ian moved on? She hoped so, hoped he had exaggerated the whole Jata Ara thing. It would make her feel better knowing he’d found someone and lived a happy life in his underwater kingdom with a bunch of little Atlantian children.

A picture of them came to mind as they ran around the living room of his home. Half of them grey-eyed, dark-haired boys, and the other half girls, that looked just like her.

Sonora brought her hands to her face. See, this is what happened whenever she thought about Ian, and she thought about him way more than she should. Somehow it always twisted around to him and her. It’s why she hadn’t stepped foot in this part of the ocean for the last two years.

Sonora wasn’t sure what she would do if she did.

It wasn’t like she could swim all the way to Ian’s home, and she didn’t know its location, anyhow. The best she’d be able to do is get in the water and flail around, hoping he was somewhere near watching for her. And there was one thing Sonora had been forced to admit to herself since she left Atlantis. If Ian came for her, she wasn’t certain she’d refuse him.

She might go back.

As she did more and more, Sonora let her mind wonder what life would have been like with him for just a few minutes before stopping herself. This was why dating never worked for her. She was stuck on a mythical man, and who would measure up to him?

Sonora watched the flow of the pedestrians outside the window. She imagined seeing his tall, broad form walking along with the others. Almost heard the little, old-fashioned bell on the door jiggle as he walked in and caught sight of her.

When the bell did ring, and she tensed, whipping her head toward the door. A nerdy-looking young man pushed up his glasses as he entered, a computer case slung over his shoulder.

Sonora sagged against the table. What would she have done? The same problems faced them. The feelings, the connection he claimed to have for her was too overwhelming. And she would have to leave her whole life up here. It might not seem like much to an outsider, but it was hers. Just walking away, never seeing her family again, was too much.

She needed to stop this back and forth. Because It didn’t matter now. It would never matter again. In a huff, Sonora grabbed her bag and shoved her computer into it before heading out the door.

Thirty-Eight

Argos

Chapter Thirty-eight

After leaving the pawnshop, Ian searched for a phone booth while he again tried to shake off the notion Sunny was near. When he finally spotted one, he slammed on his brakes, almost causing the person behind him to ram into him. The other driver sped around Ian, blaring their horn and cursing at him. Ignoring the irate driver, Ian swung open his car door and ran to the booth scooping up the phone book.

He found holding the phone book nearly impossible, given the restrictions of the attached security cable. So Ian yanked it from the wall. A tremor of excitement shuddered through Ian as he hunched over the book and ran his finger down the long list of names. Twelve people in the Tri-county area with the same last name as the one on Rick's paper.

Four of the twelve had the first name he looked for. He would go to each one until he found the right man. Done with the broken phone book, Ian sat it on the phone booth floor, leaning against the glass.

Ian jumped in his car and headed to the first address. He sat there, drumming his fingers against the leather steering wheel until an SUV pulled into the driveway. A mom, dad, and two young children piled out of the vehicle. Ian didn't recognize the man. When they opened the garage full of children's outdoor toys and the front door with a key he knew they were not visitors. This was their home.

Ian drove to the second person on his list.

Was this man the traitor, Argos himself? If he were, Ian would know him on sight. But it was just as likely, the traitor sold the Artifact to a human who then gave it to the museum. If that were the case, Ian would return and talk to each one of them.

At this house, a middle-aged man came out, got the mail, and stood in his yard opening it. Ian didn't recognize him. He blew out a loud sigh and drove away.

At the third house, Ian kept his eyes glued on the dwelling after parking on the narrow lane it sat on. He laid back in the seat of his car as he gripped the console. There was something about this one. Would he sense Argos after all this time?

The property was beautiful, well-maintained, nice size but not too large. Comfortable but didn't draw attention to itself. It's what Ian would choose if he were in hiding.

Years ago, when Ian started this search, he'd enlisted the help of a private detective. Not to look for Argos, but to teach Ian. It had been a relatively new world to Ian at that time. Although he visited above the sea before, this mission required a lot more knowledge of humans and their world than he'd known. One of the things the detective taught him was how a wanted man could hide in plain sight.

Before resorting to hiring the detective, Ian had recruited the help of two Atlantian friends who were fascinated with humans. Their knowledge had been helpful for the most part, though it veered entirely off course on a few occasions, causing quite a bit of embarrassment for Ian. Even now, he had trouble holding back his laughter over the situation. Eventually, Ian took an apartment and made friends with some of his neighbors, dipping his toe into human society until he blended in without stares. While many Atlantians visited land, there were few who had the comfort Ian now felt.

Ian scanned the pale-blue house again. Still no movement. At the neighboring pale-green home, a lanky man worked on his car in the driveway. The sound of metal on metal and cursing came from the man from time to time.

A door banged shut, and Ian's gaze shot back to the house he watched. Ian's heart thumped, and he ducked further down in his seat. An older man walked from the back of the blue house across the yard to his neighbor. He greeted the man working on the car, leaning on the vehicle as he talked.

Ian's world seemed to shift. His heart raced as he bolted upright.

It was him. The traitor, Argos. There was no doubt.

He had found him. The most hated Atlantian alive, both among his people and surely any human who knew about him.

Almost numb, Ian's gaze tracked Argos as he reached under the open hood and tinkered with the engine. He laughed with the neighbor and thumped him on the back before walking back to his home.

Argos stopped for a moment and looked out to the water. Then scanned the area as if he sensed someone watching him. Ian ducked again but eyed Argos as he turned for his door.

Ian contemplated the plan. He would take Argos by force, if necessary, and interrogate him. He wanted answers, and he wanted the Artifact.

Ian had already staked out a secluded area, he would take Argos. Once he got what he wanted, they would go to Atlantis for Argos to stand trial.

He waited for the right moment to leave the car. He wouldn't have this going wrong now.

Ian ran a hand over his face. Argos' appearance had surprised him. He looked old, even for a human. It was rumored that could happen to Atlantians who moved to land, that they would age more like humans did, but Ian hadn't prepared himself for such a difference. If he hadn't been staring right at the man, he would not have recognized him.

A woman came out of the green house, walked down the front stairs, and shook a rug before going back in. She resembled the traitor. Was she his daughter? He'd made a life here, a good one.

Ian wondered if he was truly happy or merely indifferent about life. What if Sunny didn’t have to leave her home? If he stayed here, would she accept him then? She’d alluded to as much. Ian squinted up at the sun. Could he give up centuries of life for a few mere decades, even if it was with his Jata Ara.

Shaken by the thought, Ian shoved it away and focused on his mission. He scanned the houses again. Still, only the neighbor man was out.

Ian got out of his car and walked up the driveway. When the lanky man raised his head from under the car hood, Ian gave him a smile and a wave. After a moment's hesitation, the man smiled and waved back.

In Argos' house, a light in the back room came on. Ian headed there as if it was something he did every day.

Ian tensed as he rounded the corner and stopped by the rear entrance door. Through it, he could see Argos. He stood at a countertop, chopping vegetables, a large knife in his hand.

Argos looked even older now Ian was closer and smaller somehow. In his prime, he'd been every bit as big as Ian. But he had lost muscle, and though it seemed unlikely to Ian, Argos seemed shorter too. A sliver of sympathy ran through Ian before he shook it off.

The old man was no threat to him.

Ian used one knuckle to rap on the door. The traitor looked up. His eyes widened, and he paled. He quickly glanced around, then at the knife he held.

For a moment, Argos stared at the weapon. But after that brief hesitation, he slowly laid it on the countertop. Ian knew then there would be no fight. His tight muscles eased. He did not want to fight an old man, especially one he used to call friend, and sometimes brother. He could only hope the interrogation went as smoothly.

When Argos opened the door, the two men stared at each other for a moment.

Ian was the first to speak. "Argos."

Argos nodded. "I go by Blake now. Blake Karras.”

Thirty-Nine

Busted

Chapter Thirty-nine

Sonora stood at the sink, filling a glass of water and frowning at the unfamiliar car her grandfather just climbed in. She couldn’t make out the driver, except for the fact he was tall and brawny. She squinted. There was something familiar about the set of his shoulders. Oh, for heaven’s sake, she had Ian on the brain today. Just because she didn’t recognize this guy as a friend of her grandfather’s meant nothing. But, it was odd, Grandpa hadn’t mentioned going anywhere today.

“Mom!”

“Here!” Her mother’s voice floated to her from the living room.

Sonora walked to the archway between the two rooms. “Did grandpa mention he was going anywhere today? I saw him get in a strange car.”

Azurine looked up from the skirt she was hemming. “No. Where would he be going, today of all days, on your sister’s wedding day?”

“I know. That’s why I thought it was weird. But I guess Grandpa has time before it starts tonight.”

“Did you see who he was with? I hope it wasn’t Ralph. They always gab so much they forget the time.”

“I didn’t recognize the car and the driver definitely wasn’t Ralph. He was too young.”

“Go ask your dad. Maybe Dad said something to him.”

Sonora found her father bent over the engine of the car he was restoring, as usual. “Dad?”

“Um?” came his muffled reply.

“Do you know where grandpa went?”

Mike rose and grabbed a rag to wipe his hands. “No. He waved at me as he walked off with that young fella.”

Sonora leaned a hip on the side of the car. “Okay. Well, he probably plans on being home soon then.”

The sound of the waves crashing on the beach caught Sonora’s attention, and she turned to look out over the water. Pain flickered over her face before she forced a smile to her lips.

Mike studied his daughter’s face for a moment. “Sonora, why don’t we go and get some ice cream?”

Ice cream sounded good on this already too-warm morning. However, things needed doing. “I don’t know, Dad. Mom might freak if we take off too.”

“You let me take care of that.” Mike stepped into the house to get the okay from his wife.

Soon after Sonora and Mike sat on a bench at their favorite ice cream stand, laughing as they tried to keep up with their dripping cones. The heat and humidity worked against them.

After getting his cone under control, Mike gently said, “Sunny girl, it’s been two years since your accident. We keep waiting for you to go back to being the same person you were, and it just doesn’t happen. I’m worried. We’re all worried. What can we do?”

Her father’s blunt question didn’t surprise Sonora. He liked to get right to the point. And from the time they were little, this ice cream shop had been the place of a lot of daddy-daughter talks.

She scrunched her face before smiling at him. “I’m fine, dad. Just busy.”

Mike wrapped an arm around his daughter and pulled her close. “You certainly are. We hardly see you anymore. You’re working a lot.”

“Oh, um, yes. I do work a lot,” Sonora stammered. She needed to come clean at some point. Now was as good a time as any, and Dad was the one to tell. He was the most laid back of the bunch. Still, Sonora tensed as she worked up her courage.

“Dad…” Sonora leaned away from Mike to see his face better. “Dad, the truth is, I’ve been taking some classes too.”

Sonora hadn’t expected anger, her dad had never been angry at anyone as far as she remembered. But she also hadn’t expected the face he now wore.

Mike smiled. “I know.”

“You know?” How could he?

“Yeah, one of my buddies has a kid in one of your classes. He mentioned seeing you there.”

“Oh, so I’m busted.” Sonora laughed. “The best-laid plans are always tripped up by the smallest things.”

“That’s true.” Mike patted her knee. “You’re not busted. But I’m glad you told me. Telling me is the easy part, though. It’s the rest of them you gotta worry about.”

Sonora grimaced. “Do we have to?”

“Yeah, we do.” Mike nodded his head as he stared at her. “And you know why.”

Sonora’s eyes widened. “I do?”

“We did everything we thought of to talk you out of taking any classes having to do with the ocean. You never wondered why?”

“Money. You said money.”

“That is what we had to tell you because you wouldn’t change your mind from some kind of oceanography. But we paid for Sierra’s schooling just fine.”

Sonora hung her head. “I know. I just assumed—you don’t want to know what I assumed.”

“Honey, we weren’t playing favorites. We were trying to keep you safe.”

Sonora sat up. “Safe from what?”

Mike lowered his voice and bent toward her. “Safe from the family’s connection to the ocean.”

Sonora froze. “Dad, uh, you lost me a long time ago.”

“No, I didn’t, Sunny girl. Where were you those three days?”

Sonora felt numb. “Dad, I told you where I was.”

“Your mouth says one thing, the rest of you tells us something else.”

Sonora gave a slight shake of her head. He couldn’t know, could he? “Dad. What are you saying?”

“We know.”

“You know? About what?” Sonora whispered as she flung a glance at the neighboring table when they broke into laughter.

“We are aware of what’s out there.” Mike pointed to the ocean.

Sonora put a hand to her face. Her heart thundered. In a murmur so low it surprised her that Mike heard her, she said, “About…. about Atlantis?”

Mike grabbed his daughter and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. “Did they hurt you, Sunny?”

Sonora’s mind swirled as she laid her head on Mike’s shoulder. “No, dad. They didn’t hurt me at all, quite the opposite. They treated me very well.”

“No threats? Nothing?”

“No, nothing. I promise.”

Mike pulled away and searched her eyes. Seeing Sonora was telling the truth, he relaxed. “Tell me everything.”

Sonora’s words came slowly as she started, but soon picked up. It seemed surreal, telling this story on dry land. She’d held it in for so long, it seemed odd to speak of it. Sonora told him about Atlantis, the food and how the people dressed. She told Mike that Ian had saved her and taken her to his home. But she didn’t say a word about Ian’s feelings for her.

“There’s more.”

Sonora looked down and nodded. “There is, but do we have to talk about that?”

“No. No, we don’t. I’m so relieved they treated you kindly. With your grandfather’s history, I worried they had harsh feelings for the family.”

“Grandpa? What does he have to do with this?”

Mike reared back, surprise covering his face.

Sonora pressed him. “Did grandpa find out about them? Is that how you are aware of Atlantians too?”

“Oh, uh, no. No.” Mike stammered. “Um, your Aunt Claire. Because of her studies and all.”

Sonora nodded. Of course, why hadn’t she thought of that? Scientists who studied the ocean would have to know about them, wouldn’t they? She watched her dad wipe the sweat off his forehead. Still, it seemed he wasn’t telling her something. But it had been enough for today. A lot more than she would ever have dreamed of in a thousand years, and such a relief.

Sonora took Mike’s hand. “So, what now, Dad?”

“Well, I think today is a full enough day with your sister’s wedding. How about we save this revelation to tell the rest of the family another day?”

That was just fine with her.

Forty

Let Me

Chapter Forty

When Argos had opened the door to him, pity had welled up in Ian. Here was a man who was once his fast friend, and every bit as young and vital as he was. Now, look at him. Yes, Argos had lost so much. Ian understood that now in a way he never did before. But Argo's reaction to the loss of his wife had caused him to lose everything. His home, his friends, his remaining family. Ian was relieved he'd gotten himself under control before he had made the same mistake.

He mentally shook himself, pushing away any kind thoughts. Now was not the time for reminiscing. It would hinder what he needed to do. He was a tracker, a hunter, and he needed to act accordingly.

His mission had two objectives. Stop the traitor from continuing to murder Atlantians and get the Artifact. If possible, bring the traitor home for punishment. If necessary, eradicate him.

It is time to do what he'd come here to do. Then he could sink beneath the waves for good and stop sensing his edinara.

Ian's gaze turned icy, and there was no mistaking the hard edge to his voice as he spoke in Atlantian. "Here or elsewhere?"

Argos closed his eyes for a moment, then glanced around. "Please, anywhere but here. Someone could walk in any minute." Argos stumbled over the words of his native tongue.

Ian stepped back from the door and held his arm out. "Let's go then. My car is on the street."

As they walked to his car, Argos waved to the man working on a vehicle in the garage. "My son-in-law."

"I do not care." After everything this man had done, he didn't want to think of Argos having a loving wife and children. Something he taken from so many others.

The men got into the car and drove in silence. A few times, Argos started to speak, then stopped. What could he say to defend himself? There was nothing.

Ian drove into the park toward the secluded place he had found earlier. Argos shifted in his seat as they pushed further and further into a forest of towering trees cutting off the light of the sun and causing the day to seem dim. Ian shot him a narrowed glance. There would be no escape for the traitor.

The path disappeared, but Ian kept on driving on the grass to the end. It was so shadowy here it appeared to be evening. The forest was deadly quiet. It knew there were intruders.

"Get out, Argos.” Ian ordered.

Argos clenched the handle of the door. Sweat ran down his face, but he did not obey. "Blake. It's Blake now."

Ian's anger lit and hardened his resolve. Argos was a destroyer. Did he really think a different name changed that? "I do not care what you like to call yourself. It does not make you something other than what you are. Get out, or I will drag you out. Argos.”

The old man reluctantly left the safety of the car. His eyes widened as he waited for what came next.

Ian circled the car, flames of anger working at him. He stopped in front of Argos. "I want to hear why you did it. From your own mouth, before I take you back." How had this man ever been a friend to him?

Argos brought his hand out in front of him, beseeching. "I have no excuse. I was just so young when I lost her. I was angry and so, so lost—“

"You are right. You have no excuse. I have also lost my Jata Ara. I did not murder!"

Argos took a step toward Ian, sorrow covering his face. He reached out a hand to comfort his friend.

Ian jerked back and practically hissed. "Do not touch me!"

Argos blinked his tear-flooded eyes. "Of course. Of course, I'm sorry."

"You killed our people! Continue to kill them!" Contempt for Argos filled Ian, and he felt ill as the sight of murdered friends and family flooded back to him. "Do you mutilate them? Or do you let your human friends do that?"

Argos stumbled backward, his face slack with shock. "Killed? I have never killed a single Atlantian! Why would you think that?"

"Because, Argos, our people have been disappearing since the time you left. Some return to us. Dead and in pieces! As if we are being mocked." Ian's mouth twisted. "As I recall, you did a lot of mocking when you left us."

Argos' face turned a lighter shade. "Ian, I took the Artifact. I shouldn't have. It was wrong, very wrong to do so. I fully admit to what I have done. But I have never killed one of our people!"

Ian uttered a harsh laugh. "According to you, we are not your people. That is what you said when you left us." Ian shook his head. "You would say anything to get out of your just punishment. I had hoped you had some kind of empathy left, that you would be honest with me. But you have turned as unfeeling as humans."

Ian paced back and forth in front of Argos. He wanted the answers, but to get them, he would need to hurt an old man. Ian ground his teeth. Even in such a rage, that was something he was unwilling to do. The council could proceed from here.

Ian grabbed Argos' arm, ignoring the man's wince, and shoved him back into the car. When Ian returned to his seat, he said, "I'm taking you back to Atlantis. I only hope you can still hold your breath. I didn't bring any baby equipment. Or I will drag home a corpse."

Ian floored the gas pedal, and dirt and stones ricocheted off the car as it left deep ruts behind in the long, thin grass. He shot a glance at Argos, wondering if the traitor had even been in the sea since he had left.

Argos’ hand came up to brace against the dashboard as his head narrowly missed it.

"Ian! Ian, wait! When I was first here, I was in a place..."

Ian stomped the brakes and stared at him.

"I was in an awful place..." Argos raised his shirt. Scars lay on top of scars. So many Ian wondered how he had survived.

Ian gasped. "Argos."

"I swear to you on everything Atlantian, and my human family too, that I did not kill our people. But I know someone who may have done so.”

"Do not throw the blame elsewhere. You are still going back."

"I did not kill our people. I can take you to the place I was, and I can get back the Artifact. Then I will go back with you to Atlantis and face judgment for the crime I have really committed."

If there were any Atlantian left in Argos, swearing on his family would be the highest oath possible.

"Your family will be killed if you do not hold your oath," Ian reminded him.

Argos nodded. "I swear on my family."

Ian let the car idle. "Speak."

Argos shifted in his seat and swallowed before he started. "This will sound… well, please hear what I say. I know what has to happen. I've always known one day someone would come. So this isn't about punishment."

Argos' gaze went to the trees out of his window before coming back to Ian. His face was set, and his look direct. "We were friends. I didn't lie then. Even with all that happened, I said what I would do, and I did it."

He waited for Ian's nod confirming his words before he continued, "I am not lying to you now. I will go back with you. I only ask one thing of you first."

Ian's hands tightened on the leather steering wheel, causing it to squeak. "What do you want?"

"My granddaughter is getting married tonight. Let me go to her wedding. Please, don't let them wait there for me, wondering where I am on the most important day of her life."

The request stunned Ian. "What kind of fool do you think I am?"

"If they are waiting for me, they will realize I'm gone that much sooner and start looking for me."

Ian shook his head. "We will be long gone before then."

Argos almost begged. "Just the wedding. You can be beside me the whole time."

Ian had never attended a human wedding, but he knew they usually involved many people. Even if Argos hadn't committed the murders, there was still the Artifact. It would be idiocy to allow this. He shook his head. "Ask for something else."

The old man's eyes welled with tears. "My family is my whole life. They are all I have."

Family. It beat in the heart of every Atlantian. It was the linchpin of their society. Family. It was also the way he could control Argos if he would allow this.

Ian pulled a long Atlantian knife from his belt. The sharpest blade on earth, water or air. It would cut the heart of a man or beast from their body while still beating. Ian had once used it when he was surrounded by a frenzy of unfamiliar, hostile sharks. With one twist of his body, he felled them all.

"I have permission to retrieve you in any way necessary," Ian bluntly said. "That includes using your family. Do you understand what I am saying? I'll kill the one you love the most."

Argos reared back in surprise. The counsel rarely included families in the hunt for criminals. "I guess since my family is human, they don't matter as much."

Ian grunted, not affirming either way. "You tell me everything about the person who killed our people. I want him caught."

"He's human."

"I don't care what he is. This will not stand."

"Okay," Argos said. "I agree to all that, and I offer one more thing. My help in getting the Artifact back to our people."

"I know where the Artifact is. I don't need your help."

"My name is on the paper. It is a loan. All I need to do is ask for it. Please let me right that wrong, no matter what the council decides for me."

Argos was right. It would be less of a problem to let him help get it back. Ian rubbed his hand across his chin. If he allowed this, he would take Argos and the Artifact back, and the whole thing would be done.

"Do not let me regret this last request from you, my old friend. You will rue this day if you do.”

Forty-One

The Wedding

Chapter Forty-one

Ian assured himself he was no fool, though, at the moment, he felt like one. But if he had Argos' cooperation both with retrieving the Artifact and getting back to Atlantis, it was worth an evening of his time.

"We will take this slow," Ian warned. "If at any time, I think you are dealing falsely with me, we will immediately head to the sea. Is that understood, Argos?"

Blake eagerly nodded his head but said nothing, probably afraid one misspoken word would change Ian's mind. His granddaughter's wedding seemed to be the only thing he cared about right now. Then he hesitated. "But Ian, would you call me Blake? No one knows me as Argos." He looked down. "And I hate that name now."

“Yes. Only because it would seem odd to call you anything other than Blake in front of your family.”

Ian studied the older man and looked at his own casual clothing. "Is there a set wardrobe for your weddings?"

All Atlantian schools included a human cultures class. However, human weddings were barely mentioned. It appeared they believed that was knowledge Atlantians would never need. Ian pulled a face. That was clearly not the case today.

"Yes," Blake said, "there is. My tux is at home. We’ll need to get that, and we must get you, at least, a suit. We can get that at a store."

"No, we are not going to your house. Tell me of a store that will take care of both our needs."

Blake mentioned a local men's shop that would have what they required and directed Ian to that. It was a few buildings down from the pawnshop.

As the two shopped, they shot troubled looks at each other. After so many years apart, they were unable to read each other as well as they once had. But throughout the afternoon, they became more comfortable with each other's company. Not to where Ian trusted Argos, but at least enough for him to ask any lingering questions.

While waiting for adjustments on their suits, Ian directed them to a restaurant across the street. As they sat at a corner table in the Italian bistro, Ian leaned back in his chair and asked, "Why did you take the Artifact? You could have just left, done anything you wished up here. We would not have cared. But you took the Artifact. Why?"

Blake sighed and lowered his head. "After my wife died, I was a raging, wounded man with flawed reasoning. I thought if I took it and gave it to the humans it would somehow… I don't know how, but that it would start a war between human and Atlantians. I wanted the humans wiped out, and that is one way I could accomplish it."

Ian scoffed. "Kind of ironic since the Artifact is for the humans."

Blake shrugged.

Ian sat up in his seat, leaning toward the older man. "It actually would take very little for the council to go to war once they were aware the murderers are human. If we were to rise from the ocean and demand their citizens for punishment, what do you think humans would do?"

"Deny us, fight us."

Ian leaned back, decisively nodding his head once. "That is why this thing with the humans needs to be handled very carefully. You have family here now. You have a stake in this."

The men were quiet for a while as they ate, each deep in their own thoughts. Ian shoveled in the food as if feeding a furnace, while Blake picked at his.

Ian looked at his old friend, noting all the changes in his appearance. “Were you aware you would get old?"

Blake cleared his throat. "I knew the rumors. I can't say that I cared though, at the time. Death couldn't come soon enough then." Blake gave a half-smile. "Now though, what I wouldn't give for a few more decades with my children and grandchildren."

"Why do you think it happens?"

"I don't know for sure. But it's hard on our bodies to live up here. Not enough moisture, too much oxygen. Who knows what else? It took years of battling before I could breathe properly. I still can never drink enough. It wears on an Atlantian."

Ian agreed. He had felt the pressure, they all did when they were on land. “Perhaps it will slow when you come home."

"Maybe, but at what cost? Never seeing my family again? I would trade the years to spend the time with them."

"They might come if the council allows. And I think they would. Your family is part Atlantian. They have just as much right there as here. The idea of living longer may appeal to them."

Blake brightened, then winced. "But how would they be treated? They would be a hated man’s children. And there have been no mixed people, have there?"

Ian shook his head. "They would be the first that I know of." He stood. "It is time to retrieve the clothing. On the way there, explain all the customs at a human wedding. And remember we are going only to the ceremony."

Ian timed their arrival so they had only minutes to spare. They went straight to the family area and sat down. Many quizzical looks came Ian's way, so once seated beside the wall of the small auditorium, he sunk down in his seat. He didn't want his height to make him stand out.

The music started.

Ian sensed her before he saw her, the feel of her slamming through him. He swung toward the back of the building. His eyes locked on her face. His breath left him. His heart thundered. The room narrowed. Everyone in it disappeared. Blake could have tripped over him and left, and Ian would never have noticed. There was only her.

Jatale, his love. Edinara, his heart, Jata Ara, his Intended.

Sunny stood in the archway, a bouquet of flowers in her hands, matching her rose-colored dress. The gown flowed from the waist, similar to the dresses Atlantian women wore. Ian wondered if it had reminded her of them, of him?

Her blonde hair unbound, it flowed over her shoulders and down her back. Memories of its silkiness between his fingers rushed back to Ian, making him ache to touch it again. His muscles bunched. It was all he could do to stay seated.

Sunny had a little smiled plastered on her lips, and she mostly focused on the official performing the marriage, though every so often she threw a glance over the crowd. She was nervous.

Ian realized Blake rattled on in the background. "Oh, there she is, isn't she just the most beautiful little woman? I'm the proudest grandfather!"

Ian's heart stopped, and he clenched the side of the chair until it protested. "This is your granddaughter?" he hissed at Blake.

Everything faded from existence as Ian contemplated what this meant. She was Atlantian, part anyway, but also a traitor’s granddaughter.

Ian’s eyes narrowed as a man come from Sunny's left and held an arm out to her. She smiled and took it, seeming too comfortable with him. A low growl started at the base of Ian's throat.

Blake gave Ian a strange look, but continued, "And that young man is my nephew. My granddaughter wanted to have as much family in the wedding as possible."

"So, these are not the two being mated today?"

Giggles and chuckles broke out around them, and Blake quickly whispered, "We don't call it that here! It is married. Mar—“

Ian gripped the armrests of the chair again, his body taut. "I do not care what you call it here! Is it her? Is she the one?"

"No, Ian." Blake seemed disappointed Ian hadn’t listened to him enough the first time around. "I told you Sierra is getting married. She comes down last. This is Sonora, my other granddaughter. She is a bridesmaid. Bridesmaids—" Blake’s voice faded away.

Ian's heart slammed to life again. He slumped with relief while continuing to track Sonora. He hadn't known what he would do, but a wedding for Sunny wouldn’t happen. Not unless he was the one standing beside her. Ian shook his head. That was not what she wanted. But it didn't matter what his mind told him. His heart spoke louder. Actually, it roared.

Ian's gaze followed Sonora's every move, her every breath, as the ceremony continued. Occasionally, she would frown and cast a glance to the audience. Did she feel his presence? Now he was aware Sunny was part-Atlantian, he knew it possible. Maybe. Perhaps he had given up too soon.

He tried to reach out to her. To wrap all his swirling emotions around her. Perhaps she would sense him. Sonora shivered. Then she ran her hand down a thin, silver chain at her neck and played with the charm hanging at the end of it. A small pink conch shell. One that used to sit on the shelves behind his desk.

Ian chuckled, the sound low and deep as hope, however slim, entered his world again. Seems she took after her grandfather with those sticky fingers. Ian was not upset, but instead, filled with joy. Sunny did think of him. She had just now. He sensed it.

Eyes flashing, Ian turned to Blake. "Where is the gathering that happens after the wedding?”

Forty-Two

Secrets

Chapter Forty-two

Devon raced from one side of his secret lab to the other. He hated rushing, but Sierra's reception would start soon. He'd hardly been able to sit still during the ceremony. Of all the times for an experiment to show promise, it had to be the day of his niece's wedding. In the little bit of time between the ceremony and the reception, Devon hurried over here. He was glad he had.

Devon trembled as he leaned over his new microscope, one hand around the eyepiece. Unsure he saw correctly, he twisted the knob again. He gasped in appreciation. If only this equipment had been developed years ago.

He stared at it again. Devon's heart thundered. Would he finally, after all this time, get some answers?

"Vincent. Vincent, I need you to look at this now!" Devon shouted to his lab assistant.

* * *

Vince threw his hands up as he stepped out of a back room. He hadn't even finished the last errand for his demanding boss. "Vince," he mumbled to himself. "How many times do I need to tell you? Not Vincent. Vince Hartman.”

To Devon, he said, "Yeah, boss?"

Devon sighed before waving him over. "That's Dr. Shade to you."

Vince almost rolled his eyes at his boss' high handed manner. The man liked to treat him as an underling. Whatever. It wasn't like he planned on staying here long anyway.

Vince was on loan from the Natural History Museum, or what posed as the museum. He knew never to acknowledge that the building was anything other than a place for families to learn no matter how insane his assignments became. And they'd been getting crazier by the day.

A while ago, odd slides began appearing in the standard selection passing through his station every day. When he questioned his superior about them, she said to mark and notate them as he did all the others.

Okay, he'd said, he would do that. No probs.

When they came more frequently, Vince slyly asked some of his workmates if they had any in their assignments. A couple said they had complained to their supervisor about them as those particular slides did not fall under their job description.

Vince found that interesting. So they were testing their employees, he thought. Apparently, only he passed. He wondered what would come next.

If only he'd known, he would have been the first to complain. Maybe.

His curiosity had gotten him into trouble countless times as a kid. But it was also what pushed him to spend most of his twenties with the massive workload it took to become a geneticist. Vince didn't consider curiosity a drawback until the day he walked into his museum supervisor's lab and saw a man in a cage right beside the other research animals.

Up until that point, Vince thought the work he did was theoretical, but he'd been fooling himself. Now there was no denying what it was. They were experimenting on humans. Vince had stared at the patched up man. And the man began to beg him for help.

The museum supervisor looked at Vince in that condescending way she had, one eyebrow raised. Despite the horror he felt over his own decision, Vince knew his curiosity would take him to the next level of whatever this was. On top of that, it seemed his own hide may be in danger if he didn't keep quiet.

"Sorry, dude," He'd said to the caged man. The man turned away and hung his head, and Vince's heart fell.

"It's just one man," his supervisor said. "One man who can help all others." Then she gave the man an injection to calm him.

That became Vince's mantra. One man who can help all others. When things got rough for the guy, Vince would remind himself it's just one man. Until it wasn't. Until it was two and five and ten and he didn't count them anymore. Until it didn't bother his heart when he walked into a room and a new one was there. Until, instead, he was eager to learn what he could from each new one.

They came from the sea, these ocean people. From where exactly, Vince wasn't sure. But his supervisor said they were ‘harvested’ from a few areas. Vince winced at the word harvested until he remembered what he did to them was far worse than that.

In many ways, they were different from an average human. They were taller, more muscular, stronger, faster, unable to contract local diseases, including the common cold, didn’t get heart disease or cancer. They could subsist on only ten percent use of most of their organs. Not well, but they could do it. They could survive on almost no oxygen compared to humans. But even though they came from the water, they could drown. Vince knew all this because he was there as they sliced and diced them.

What Vince had learned was so amazing, so exciting he wanted to share it with everyone but could tell no one. Even his supervisor would only discuss ongoing projects. Vince had all this knowledge, all these secrets, bottled up inside him. They were bursting for release.

But every day he went home to the condo he shared with his brother, Nick, and held his tongue. That was the hardest part. There'd been a time when the two had shared their scientific exploits right down to the tiniest detail. But no longer. Vince was afraid if he started, he wouldn't be able to stop. So, he said very, very little.

Vince thought his brother believed this separation of work and family was his own fault, but for a different reason. Back when they shared everything, Nick, a physicist, started talking theory as if it were fact. He spouted off about wormholes, cosmic strings, and time machines. Vince had belittled him no matter how often Nick insisted time travel would happen soon. By the end of those nights, they'd both been tipsy and argued out, sometimes angry, sometimes laughing. Vince loved those nights.

Now the brothers never discussed work, and Vince's guilty conscious made him wonder if Nick was hiding something too.

"Are you just going to stand there? Come over here and look at this." Devon's demanding voice brought Vince back to the present. He sighed. Now he was stuck working with this guy.

Devon stood in front of their electron microscope. The science on DNA was new and exploding. Devon had been anxious to get this microscope hoping it would have answers that he'd been searching for all these years.

He waited for the young man to inspect the specimen he prepared. On the outside, he appeared calm, but Vince knew, on the inside, he must be as taut as a piano wire.

Vince leaned over the small machine. Not finding the eyepiece to his liking, he adjusted it and leaned in again. He was quiet for a moment, then gasped. He straightened and looked unseeing at the wall in front of him. He returned to the microscope again.

When Vincent rose the third time, he turned to Devon. "Their DNA. It's..."

"I know. How?"

Vince shook his head. "You're asking me? You have a lot more years in this than I do.”

"I've no idea. I've never seen anything like this. It's not an adaptation. It doesn't seem to have occurred naturally." Devon pushed a hand through his hair, disturbing his hair.

"It's like it was shoved in there on purpose. Like someone took a human and made an ocean person out of, like, a lot of different DNA." Amazed, Vincent nearly sang the words. His eyes gleamed as the new findings tumbled through his mind.

"Well, not exactly shoved. We know these things have been around for generations. This was apparently done centuries ago and has been handed biologically from parent to child."

"But how? We're just messing around with this now. From what I understand, there are big celebrations because human DNA has been mixed with a pig. A pig! Nothing remotely like this." Vincent waved his hand at the microscope. "Something this sophisticated… This perfect… I barely have the words. Look at their perfection."

Devon reared back. "They're not perfect! It's just further proof they are abominations. Not natural."

“But isn't that what we're trying to do here?" Vincent was tired of the hatred Devon spewed at the Atlantians. He couldn't stop from rubbing it in. "You want to take their DNA to make us somehow better. Aren't we doing what they've already done? Wouldn't that make us abominations?"

Devon caught only one part of what Vincent said. "Have they done this? To themselves? Do they have that capability?" He walked over to the empty man-sized cage and kicked it. "Just when I have the most important questions, I have no one to answer them!”

Forty-Three

The Reception

Chapter Forty-three

Ian grunted a sigh of relief as they pulled into the parking lot of the reception hall. Blake had been talking non-stop about the events of the day. While he needed to know what would happen at the celebration, Blake’s chatter was working on his already thin nerves.

The man prattled on like this was the happiest day of his own life. Ian parked the car and shook his head. What was he doing? How would this help anything? Ian shot a glance at Blake. He risked everything for a glimpse of her. He was a foolish, foolish man.

Ian and Blake stepped into the huge entry of the reception hall. A sign-in table with a book and pen, as well as a seating chart, were straight ahead of them beside the large decorative doors of the dining area. Large bouquets of flowers filled the space, some aligned next to darkened windows looking over the rest of the hall, including the tables and dance floor.

Ian left the line containing several families. He leaned up against the wall near the window giving him the best view of the area. Ian waved Blake on. “I can see you from here. Remember that.”

This earned him a few curious stares from other guests and a look of resignation from Blake. He scanned the area. Sonora was not there yet.

A young boy of about seven made his way over to Ian. He seemed hesitant at first but became bold enough to continue until he stood right next to Ian.

Ian smiled as the boy examined his own small foot next to his. Then he stepped back and looked all the up to Ian’s face. He studied Ian, looking up and down him several times.

“You’re tall,” the boy said.

“I am.” Ian chuckled at the boy’s serious examination.

“How did you get so tall?”

“I eat a lot.”

The boy stuck his hands into his dress pant pockets and nodded his head as if that is what he’d thought all along. Then he wandered back to his family. His father looked over at Ian. The two men smiled and nodded at each other.

Ian watched through the window as Blake slowly made his way to his own table, stopping at several others on the way for a chat. It didn’t surprise Ian. Blake had always been extremely social. His father had often called him ‘herring’ as a boy as those fish schooled in humongous groups.

There was a stir among the guests as they turned to a door he couldn’t see. A new song started, and the bride and groom entered the room, followed by the rest of the bridal party. The sight of Sunny filled Ian’s vision.

His eyes tracked her as she walked across the room to the table prepared for the wedding party. They stood behind their chairs for a few minutes as announcements and congratulations were given to the happy couple.

Sunny looked around the room, her brows slightly knitted. Ian’s heart sped up. Did she know he was here? Was she looking for him?

Ian reached out for her again, as he had at the wedding. She looked startled for a moment and examined the room again. After a moment, she lightly shook her head. Ian smiled.

The group sat and started eating. Ian’s stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten for a while either. With a bit of a frown, he realized he hadn’t thought this part through. He looked at Sunny and Blake, both happily munching on their dinner. Neither one of them were going anywhere.

Ian followed the aroma of food to the kitchen. A bit of flirting with a young server earned him a bowl of lobster bisque, a plate of roast beef and potatoes and even a glass of wine. While roast beef was something he rarely ate and didn’t really favor, Ian figured it might help keep him full past his usual two to three-hour eating schedule. With a wink and a nod of thanks to the server, he left before she asked for his number.

Back at his spot in the entryway, Ian saw Blake and Sonora on the dance floor. Blake had told him that there would be two dances for the wedding party and relatives, after that anyone could dance. When the second one was over, a young man moved to Sonora. He said something to her. She laughed and nodded. The man moved to take her into his arms.

Ian tried to stop his feet even as he moved through the doors dividing the entry from the rest of the hall. He cursed his own stupidity as people quickly moved aside for him as he strode down the aisle between table sections. Ian reminded himself Sunny didn’t want him until she looked up and trailed him with those large blue eyes. Then he melted. He would give up everything for only a moment with this woman. Centuries would be nothing to leave behind if he could have even a short human lifetime with her.

Forty-Four

May I?

Chapter forty-four

Sonora shivered as something like electricity sizzled through the air. She turned toward it, ignoring the arms her cousin held out to her. She bit her lip as she raised her eyes. Ian.

His last words to her slammed through her mind. "Go and never tell me where you are. Because if you do, I cannot stay away. I will come for you and drag you back here."

This was either her best dream or worst possible nightmare.

All other sound fell away except for Ian's steps striking the floor as he moved toward her. Sonora's vision narrowed to him, only him.

His determination became plainer with every step he took. Sonora's heart thumped, hard. Her gaze scraped over Ian, the length and breadth of him. He was such a man.

* * *

Ian stopped in front of Sunny, ignoring her cousin as he crowded him away. He locked eyes with her. Neither spoke. Their breathing aligned until dizziness caused Ian to hold his. Too much oxygen. Too much her.

He slowly reached out to run a hand over her golden hair. He watched for any objection, but Sunny allowed it. His fingers shook as he fought what he really wanted. To grab her up and race out of here, taking her back where she belonged— his home. But maybe there were other options.

With a smile, Ian leaned toward her and tenderly kissed her forehead. When he moved back, she smiled at him, her blue eyes bright. He couldn't rush this.

Ian's voice demanded, even as his eyes begged. "Tonight. I am asking for tonight."

* * *

Sonora's throat tightened, and she trembled. The thought flashed through her mind that this must be how Cinderella felt when faced with her prince.

Something was happening here. Something more than before. Maybe it was nothing, but perhaps…

She took Ian's hands. It seemed as though sparks arced between the two of them. The feeling was too strong to ignore now. "Til midnight."

* * *

Ian nodded. It was more than he had dreamed possible. If he had tonight, he wouldn't endure the agony of seeing her in another man's arms. That sight wouldn't haunt him for the centuries he would carry on without her. Ian held out his arms.

* * *

Sonora floated into them, laying hers on Ian's and enjoying the feel of him beneath her hands. His palm touched then held the small of her back as if a leaded weight. A smile turned up her lips.

She had been floundering like a fish out of water since she'd been back. Going through the motions, but even with her classes, nothing had seemed right. But this—this was right. It was the first time since leaving Atlantis she felt anchored. How could she ignore this?

Sonora looked down at Ian's feet realizing, at some point, they had danced across the floor, then back up at him with widened eyes. "Dancing? How do you know human dancing?"

"There are many things about me of which you are unaware."

Apparently, that was true. Well, Ian did have sixty years on her. Sonora tripped over Ian's foot, and they both laughed. "You're even better at it than I am."

* * *

Ian's chest warmed at Sunny's giggle. "I have missed your laugh, my heart."

Sonora winced. Ian frowned at her reaction. "Nothing has changed. You are still my heart, as you will always be."

"I'm sorry," she said, tears flooding her eyes. "It's just—it's been two years. Everything has changed." Sonora hung her head.

Ian tipped her face back up to him. "No, do not worry, not everything has changed. But something has." The corner of his mouth lifted, and he leaned to whisper to her. "You know me now, Edinara."

She felt a tap at her senses that she somehow recognized as Ian. Confusion, then surprise filled Sonora. Those little flashes. "You were at the wedding?"

Ian's eyes brightened. "Yes."

"And here? Before I saw you?"

Ian pulled Sonora closer. "I reached out to you."

Sonora gasped and trembled with the feel of it as he gently sent his emotions to her again. "Oh, Ian!" Her hold on him tightened. It was as if he were her air when she hadn't known she was drowning. Sonora's feelings swirled as quickly as her thoughts. She understood now what she felt for this man. But there was still her home, her family. Leaving everything she'd ever known… It would be hard.

She lifted her troubled gaze to Ian's. And watched his dull.

He stared at her. "There is a war raging within you, Sunny. A bit of light has flooded my world. Because if there is a battle, perhaps there is some kind of hope for me."

"Ian.” Sonora lifted a hand to his face and covered his cheek. "Oh, Ian. We have tonight. And at the end, I think… we should talk about our future."

Ian brightened and raised an eyebrow. "Together?"

Sonora pulled his face to her and nodded. "Together."

Heedless of everyone around them, Ian grabbed Sonora up and twirled her. She threw her arms around his neck and giggled, truly happy for the first time since she'd left Atlantis. Her feet dangled over air as Ian lifted her face to his.

He halted in the middle of the dance floor, couples spinning around them. Ian’s heart thundered under the hand Sonora laid on his chest. He glanced at her mouth, then stared into her eyes. "My love, my heart," he breathed, “May I?"

Sonora knew what he wanted. Her breath rushed from her as she stared at his full lips. "Please."

His mouth came to hers, gentle then more demanding. Ian stopped and raised his head to gauge her reaction. After seeing her glazed look, he smirked. And came back for more.

Sonora tightened her grip on Ian's wide shoulders. He wasn't going anywhere without her.

Everything was perfect now.

Sanctuary’s Aggression 7: The Atlantis Cure

This box set is compiled in the order in which the books were written. The prequel books, The Beginning and The Atlantis Cure, can be read first or where they are located in the box set.

The prequels are important to the conclusion of the series.

Thank you for reading the series. :)

Copyright © 2021 Maira Dawn

All rights reserved.

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and a resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

Contents

1. The Couple

2. Love and Tragedy

3. Happy

4. Start There

5. Goodbye for Now

6. A Start

7. My Main Man

8. The Most Danger

9. Confessions

10. There had been a Day

11. Soon

12. The Heist

13. The Box

14. Hope

15. Home

16. Debate

17. Justice

18. Trouble

19. Jorah

20. Reaching

21. Disagreements

22. The Handshake

23. Even This Wrong

24. Threats

25. All Edges

26. Murder

27. Hello, Little Niece

28. A Special Cocktail

29. Labs

30. Changes

31. Time

32. Deadly

33. Escape

34. Revelation

35. The Best Thing

36. Reeling

37. Your Name

38. Something Horrible

39. It Must End

40. Everyone Makes Mistakes

41. Escape

42. Turns Out

43. The Larger Good

44. Dark Horizon

45. Genetics

46. Nick

47. You Would Be Surprised

48. Disappeared

49. Sierra

50. Little Boy

51. In The House

52. Dark Storm

53. The New Way Home

54. Not Problem at All

55. Save The World

One

The Couple

Chapter One

Azurine watched her daughter and an immensely attractive man as they kissed on the dance-floor. He certainly had been determined to get to Sonora. But, who was he? No one she had met before, that was for sure. Azurine tapped a finger against her cheek in thought. Maybe Claire had been right. Maybe Sonora had fallen for the man who saved her that day in the ocean, and maybe, this was him. What was his name again? Oh yes, Ian.

Sierra dreamily smiled as she laid her head against her new husband’s shoulder. She looked over at her sister questioningly and raised an eyebrow. So, was he the one Sonora refused to talk about? Looked like a determined one. Sierra wouldn’t be surprised if her sister was the next one in a wedding dress.

Blake turned a deep shade of red as he eyed the couple. Ian hadn’t mentioned that he knew Sunny, let alone that he was in the habit of kissing her. But now so many little things were falling into place. Ian’s confusion and anger at the wedding when he’d thought Sunny was the bride, and his insistence on coming to the reception when he had at first refused. Blake’s hands clenched into fists.

“No, never!” he muttered to himself. “Over my dead body!” He walked across the dance-floor, his anger building with every step he took. On reaching the dancing couple, Blake grabbed Ian’s arm and said, "We have to talk."

Sonora's eyebrows creased as she tore her gaze from Ian. "Grandpa?"

Ian continued to stare at Sunny, unwilling to acknowledge Blake, but Blake wasn't giving up. "Ian!" he whispered harshly.

"Go away,” Ian said. “I have until midnight."

"Until midnight? What kind of—" Blake sharply shook his head. "This isn't a fairy tale! I need to speak to you now before it is too late." Maybe if he could get Ian away from Sonora, then the worst couldn't happen.

Ian disagreed. "It's already too late. She's my Intended. She's been my Intended."

"What? When?"

"When she was missing," Ian said.

Blake swung his gaze to his granddaughter who now had her eyes glued to the floor.

“Sorry, Grandpa,” she said.

Blake stared at Sunny, then back at Ian. How had this happened?

"Ian. Now!" Blake barked, causing those near them to turn their way.

Ian ran his hand down Sonora's arm as he turned to leave. Sonora frowned and grabbed an arm of each of them. "You two know each other?" she asked.

Neither answered her question, instead they turned in sync and said, "Stay here."

Sonora stood there for a moment, hand on her hips and a question on her face, before she threw her hands in the hair and mumbled, “Like I’m going to stay here in the middle of the dance-floor.” She trailed the men.

Since dinner was over, most of the servers and kitchen staff had gone home for the evening. So when Blake and Ian burst through the kitchen doors, only two servers were gathering their belongings to leave by the backdoor. One of them was the young woman who Ian had talked to earlier. For a moment, her face lit up at the sight of Ian's big frame striding through the swinging doors. Then seeing the thunderous looks on the men's faces, she hurriedly pushed her friend toward the outer door. “Let’s get out of here. I was here once before when a fight broke out, and the paperwork alone makes me shudder. I don’t intend to stick around for another one.”

Blake was happy to see the servers leave no matter why they were doing it. As soon as the door swung shut behind them, Blake said, "You went after my granddaughter? What is wrong with you?"

Ian stood his ground. "I did not go after her, she called to me as Jata Ara. You better settle, old man. Your face is red. You are going to have one of those heart issues they have up here."

Blake stepped toe to toe with Ian. "My granddaughter!"

"I did not know she was your granddaughter! Do you think I would have chosen Atlantian’s most hated man’s kin as mine if I’d had a choice? You know how it happens.”

Blake ran a hand through his hair and exhaled a deep sigh. Of course, what Ian said was true. Still, he didn't like it. Not one bit.

Ian chuckled. "If it makes you feel any better, the woman has led me a merry chase and she continues to do so. It has not been an easy courtship."

Blake snorted. "Good."

Ian threw him an irritated look. "This could be considered your fault, having a family up here. Do you know what you did to me? I thought I fell for a human. A human! I thought I was going crazy." He slapped his hand on the steel table. The sound reverberated around the kitchen. "I still could be. After all, she's only one-quarter Atlantian. She might as well be human."

Blake's eyes narrowed. "What did you call my granddaughter?"

"I call her what she is, it doesn't mean I don't love her."

"Do not call her human!" Blake, still reeling over the sight of Sonora and Ian, knew he was being unreasonable. His granddaughter was exactly what Ian said she was, but it was something that had always eaten at him.

"Blake, settle."

Blake ripped off his jacket and slugged Ian in the face as hard as he could.

Ian rubbed his chin, unruffled. “I hope that made you feel better. I’m impressed you can still defend your family as well as you can.”

"I hope you got your fill tonight," Blake growled. "Because you will never see Sunny again. You do not have my permission to be with her. And without it, my being a criminal or no, you will never have her!"

Ian stilled, staring daggers at Blake. "You have no say."

"You know that is not true."

Ian dropped his fists to his side and clenched his jaw. “If she is ready to come to me, I will not allow anyone to stop her.” He yanked Blake up by the front of his shirt, ignoring the ripping sound of fabric.

Blake reached for a weapon, any weapon, clattering through utensils laying on a metal tray, but came up empty. Ian slammed Blake up against the wall, a resolute look in his eye.

A small feminine gasp sounded behind them, and Ian closed his eyes. Blake shot a look at the door. Sunny stood there.

Her gaze flickered over the guilty faces of the two men, her hands tightly clasped in front of her.

“Ian, please!” she begged. “Let my grandfather go!”

Blake stumbled when Ian instantly dropped him but found his footing.

Sonora took a tiny step back as a hand flew to cover her mouth and the other pointed at her grandfather. “Grandpa?”

The word seemed to echo across the room as Blake looked down at himself. A large rip at the shoulder of his shirt had exposed his shimmering tattoo. He raised his head and stared at Sonora sadly. “Oh, honey.”

Sonora stared back at Blake, head swimming, as she finally put everything together. She had once watched a professional pinball tournament where one player, after a Lazarus ball and a couple of amazing thumpers, carefully nudged, tilted and stacked the machine. When the backbox blazed and strobed with the final score, the machine seemed to quiver and chime without end.

Her mind felt like that pinball machine. It was like everything aligned just right. All the lights and bells were firing. It all made sense now.

Her gaze darted to her grandfather's sickened face. Grandpa's lack of relatives, his need to be near the ocean, and so many other small things she had noticed through the years.

Surely, her mother knew. And Dad—he hadn't told her the entire truth.

Sonora's gaze shifted to Ian's face. Is this why she felt closer to him than she should have almost from the beginning? Why she couldn’t let go of him even after all this time?

Is it why she loved the sea so much? Why the thought of living there didn’t frighten her, but rather excited her? Grandpa always said she was the most like him. Was this what he meant?

Two

Love and Tragedy

Chapter Two

Blake felt his heartbeat slow to what seemed like almost nothing for the first time in years, as he wished to be anywhere but there in that moment. Unable to tear his horrified gaze from his granddaughter's face, it forced Blake to watch her every reaction. Sonora's shocked voice beat against his ears. His stomach twisted. This is what he'd hoped and prayed would never happen.

How did he tell her she wasn't who she thought she was, but something the people she lived among would fear and revile? How did he tell her his actions led to the human’s fear?

Oh, how he regretted the day he rose from the sea with vengeance in his heart and betrayal in his hands. That was the day he put his family in danger before they were even born.

Blake reached for Sunny, her name a question on his lips as he asked for forgiveness before she knew what she would be forgiving. Sonora gave it willingly and flew to his arms. Blake tightly wrapped her in his, holding her soft, small body as if it would help ward off the memories that flooded him.

Argos. The name spun through Blake's mind. The minute he had heard the name, it had taken him back. Back to the silken sea flowing over him, back to the family and friends left behind. Back to her.

After all this time, it was better not to let her name grace his thoughts, let alone his lips. The emotions still ran through him like a crack deep in his soul, and he worried it was still just as dark.

Sixty years. Sixty. He'd been so full of life and vigor then. So young. And so sure—of everything.

Twenty-one. He'd been young to join with his Intended. Though some felt their Intended almost from birth, they held marriage off until the late thirties or even forties. Most found their beloved, as he did, exploring the cities of the sea. But he'd been young, almost a child, as he had toured along with his older brother. Not the mature man he should have been. It was his undoing, and hers as well.

Love and tragedy had come so quickly on the back of one another and left him bereft. Sucking everything from his soul but that last breath—the one that would've given him peace. And with that breath, he'd torn the world to pieces. Until they captured him.

The man he was, Argos, quickly learned to fear what humans could do. Drugs and torture under the guise of medical experiments stopped his rage and replaced it with the resignation this would be how his life ended.

Until Sarah.

One kind human who cared for Argos more than he deserved. She helped him escape and find a new life at her side. He cared for her, and bonded in some small way, but never loved her as he had his Jata Ara. But Sarah gave him children and them, grandchildren. Family, the greatest joy for an Atlantian.

If Blake were to be honest, his favorite stood before him now, her warm arms hooked around him and a frantic question in her bright blue eyes.

Blake pulled Sonora closer to him. He knew what Ian could give her, and even if she was a quarter Atlantian, it wasn't enough. Ian would tire of the struggle of trying to bond with a human. An Atlantian could only truly love another Atlantian.

How many times had Blake been by Sarah's side in sorrow? An intense desire for someone else, anyone else, who would share his enthusiasm of senses? Someone to bond to, their emotions full and heavy with the entire power of his people, reaching out with empathy and awareness?

Sarah had known. On some level, she had known. And he would die before he allowed Sonora to suffer the same loveless fate of her grandmother. No, it was better this ended now.

"Grandpa?" Sonora asked as she patted Blake.

"Sunny dear," Blake said in a stern voice, his look direct. "There are things about this man. Things you cannot know, and I don't want you near him."

Sunny released her grandfather and looked over at Ian, who scowled at Blake. "It looks like he thinks the same about you, Grandpa."

Blake looked away and nodded. "He does."

"So," Sonora said. "The two of you will fight about this?"

Ian's words were rough as gravel as he said, "Your grandfather does not make my decisions."

"Fight a different day. I promised Ian this evening, so that’s what will happen, Grandpa." Sonora's determination was every bit as firm as her grandfather's.

"It will be too late then," Blake said.

"Well, Grandpa, if you mean what I think you mean, it's already too late. Ian already told you that," Sonora entreated him. "Let us have tonight."

When Blake said nothing, Sonora turned to Ian and held out her hand to him. A blazing smile replaced his scowl.

Sonora pinked and peeked up at Ian. "Shall we dance?"

When he nodded, Sonora led him back out to the dance-floor.

Three

Happy

Chapter Three

The music was slow and steady, quite unlike Sonora's heart. It pounded out a rhythm so hard she was sure Ian could hear it. She reveled in the feel of his strong hand in hers, the weight of his other at the small of her back.

She'd tried for so long to forget this man, to reject him, only to have her first thought of the morning and every waking moment after that be about him. Then he strolled into her life like he had every right to be here. And if she listened to her thundering heart, he did.

She'd left Atlantis thinking whatever sorrow there belonged to Ian and any lingering sadness she'd carried would soon disappear. Instead, regret followed Sonora, stayed with her. It had grown, and over time, she realized it was her own.

It had been a mistake to lie to him, telling Ian she felt nothing for him. She did. She did then, and she did now. But they were not the immense feelings he had. His feelings frightened her, a lot. Would she be able to keep up with that?

Sonora looked up at Ian and squeezed his hand. She didn't need to reject him even with the complications. There were other things to consider.

Ian stared at her, and she smiled. At one time, this habit of his would've made her uneasy or irritated, but now she felt differently.

Sonora liked it when he looked at her.

"I can make you come back," Ian whispered as his gaze lingered on her, his gentle voice at odds with his words. "I could carry you out of this place, drag you back to the sea, and there is nothing you could do about it."

"You're right. We established long ago that you can pretty much do whatever you want, and I can't stop you." Sonora ran a finger down his cheek. "But you won't, because you care about how I feel, and you want me to be happy."

"I can make you happy." He did not beg, but merely informed her, confident it would be so. "Given time, you would adjust and be happy. I know you would. But there may be other options."

"Other options?" Sonora looked away. "Are we going to spend the evening debating this or are we going to enjoy this time together?"

Ian tipped Sonora's face back to him, his sad, grey eyes peering into hers. "I will stop, for now, but this discussion is far from over."

A soft giggle escaped her. "I didn't think it would be. How about this? How about I let you know if and when you can drag me back?"

Ian threw his head back and laughed. "You are amusing, my heart.” He ran a finger down Sonora’s cheek. “I yearn for the day those words spill from your lips."

Time ticked by with relentless determination regardless of how Sonora willed it to still. Tonight was an impossible fairytale, far more romantic than a hundred movies. Her mind whirled with thoughts of Ian's looks, his smile, how safe she felt in his strong arms. Sonora beamed at him. The way he looked at her made her glow.

Ian grinned back. The dark in him had disappeared little by little tonight and filled with Sunny's light. But for how long? Would she finally accept him? For now, he drank in every soft touch she gave him, every smile from her pink lips, every light from her sky-blue eyes. Each small burst of hope that rose within him, he squashed at once, afraid to let it grow. Still, he made sure he fulfilled her every desire, trying to show Sunny he would make her a perfect partner.

After dancing, they walked through the crowd out to a balcony. The sun dipped just below the horizon, and small rays of pink and orange lit up the sky. Below, the ocean waves slapped against the rock face a small cliff. The water sparkled with the remaining light of the day.

Sunny drew Ian to one of the white, metal tables lined up along the balcony. They sat, side by side, sipping at drinks Ian snagged from a passing waiter as they'd walked out the hall.

Ian's eyes twinkled as he said, "I like your necklace."

Sunny flustered. "Oh, you noticed the shell I took from your house. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. I don't know what came over me."

"Do you wear it often?"

"Yes." Sunny ducked her head, but Ian swore she murmured, "I never take it off."

He stroked the shell. "I'm glad you have it."

Ian couldn't help getting lost in her gaze. His breathing uneven until he steadied it. Laying an arm around the back of her chair, he leaned closer to her. Ian inhaled her scent, felt dizzy, and put a hand to her face.

Sunny tipped her lips toward his, then dipped her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Ian's heart fell. When she opened her eyes, she looked out over the ocean. "It's time to stop mooning around as if there aren't real problems with this relationship. We need to talk, not—not anything else.”

Azurine watched Sunny and her new suitor through the window as they moved out onto the balcony. Things seemed to be going well.

“Look,” she said to the woman beside her. “Aren’t they gorgeous together?”

The woman nodded. He’d caught her attention from the moment he hit the door, as he had with everyone in the room. Tall to the point of imposing, confident in a way he shouldn’t be in a roomful of people he didn’t know, attractive in a way one rarely sees.

He reminded her of someone she didn’t like remembering.

That is why the woman continued to watch him. Watch him as he’d strode straight to the girl. Watched as he took her in his arms as if he had a right to do so. Watched as they walked to the balcony. And when he had removed his jacket, her suspicions were confirmed. The light shimmer of an Atlantian tattoo could be seen through the material of his shirt. Barely, but it was there.

The woman clenched her jaw. She couldn’t let this happen.

She’d seen Sunny’s face, heard the girl’s gasp as she had seen him. The surprised shock and the slow happiness. The woman had felt that too. Once. Her man from the sea couldn’t stay away, came back time after time until he filled her whole life. Until she had to be with him. Then he left and never returned. The woman’s eyes filled with tears. She needed to take care of this now.

She threw a nervous glance at Ian as she twisted in her chair and pulled out her phone. She bit her lip and wiped at her eyes as she typed, “There is one here.” Hands shaking, she pushed send.

Four

Start There

Chapter Four

Sunny eyed Ian as if she expected an argument over her request to talk. Instead, he simply said, "I agree."

She shivered and he laid his tux jacket around her.

"Thank you," she said to Ian and murmured to herself. "I need to just start, just say something." Sunny flashed Ian a glance, and continued, "There are so many… I just can't see…"

Ian's heart lurched.

Sunny looked at the sky, the ocean, the table, anywhere but him. She covered her face with her hand before looking at him. "I want so much to get to know you better regardless of the obstacles."

A little flicker of hope, the one Ian had tried to squash earlier, grew. This time, it resisted his efforts to tamp it down but continued to brighten. "Then let's start there."

"Like a date or something," Sunny said. "Do you know what that is? Can you do that?"

Ian chuckled. "Yes. I will do whatever you wish."

"But there are issues, and I need answers." Sunny waved her hand. Ian imagined it all falling apart and wrapped his fingers around her flailing ones.

"No, let's start there, where you said, with a date."

"Okay."

"In the meantime, ask me anything," Ian said.

"Okay… exactly how long were you spying on me?" Ian's eyes widened.

"This is where you want to begin?"

"Yes."

Ian looked at her for a moment before turning his gaze to the ground. "I did not deal with this properly, and I understand that now. I tried to fight it, I really did, but in doing so, I worked against every instinct I had. I did not have control of myself. You see, it is always the same with my people. Meet, bond, court. This was so unknown." Ian raised his eyes to Sonora's. "I had no point of reference and no one to turn to for help. Please, understand that. In answer to your question, a long time. Months. So, when the opportunity came, and you needed me, I was already lost to you."

Sunny's hand flew to her mouth. "Months! Ian!"

When he shrugged, knowing there was little he could have done, she almost laughed. "You do know that is creepy, don't you?"

"Not for Atlantian women," Ian said, almost grumpily. "They enjoy the process. I am sorry it disturbs you."

"It doesn't exactly disturb me really."

Ian leaned toward Sunny, teasing her, "Perhaps you enjoyed it, and that is what disturbs you."

She bumped her shoulder to his. "I don't understand much of this, and perhaps I never will. But I do understand the confusion of feelings that comes with this situation." She tipped her head. "Had you ever planned on just saying hi or something?"

"Every day I saw you. I had many plans, but each of them seemed unwise or, as you say, creepy. Mostly I was trying to stop my feelings for you, but that was not any help."

"No, I don't suppose that would've been." Sonora giggled and huffed out a breath. "Nothing like that does."

"One thing helps. Being together." Even saying the words made Ian yearn for a time when Sonora would accept that she was his.

Sunny, however, seemed to ignore him. "So, you planned my abduction all out. The place, regulator—"

Indignant, Ian stopped her. "It was not an abduction! I saved your life. If that wave had not tumbled you, I would never have taken you home that day. Yes, I was prepared to take you to Atlantis and hoped the chance would come. But I let you come home, even when it broke me."

Sunny agreed as she traced a design on the metal table with one long, painted nail, "You did save my life, and you never harmed me. Everything you did was for my comfort, except for taking me to Atlantis in the first place. And I understand now that was out of your need for me to be your Jata Ara. Even then, you fought your every desire to give me what I wanted, to be up here." She bit her lip before continuing, "But I have one more thing to ask."

Ian tensed and gave her a brisk nod. "Ask it."

"I need you to… I need to be seen as an equal, not some poor little human girl you're saddled with. Can you do that?"

"Yes. I will learn whatever you need. That is the way of one Jata Ara to another." Ian put a finger to Sunny's chin and smirked. "And I stopped seeing you as a poor little human girl long ago. You may be small, but you are mighty."

Sunny giggled. "Good. And what about the fact that you are far older than I am now, yet I will grow old far sooner than you. Have you thought about that?"

Ian ran a hand over his face and gave her a sad look. "You still act like I have a choice about this. Yes, I have thought on it. Perhaps the Atlantian in you will win out, and you will age slower than a normal human under the right conditions. And if I stay here, from the looks of your grandfather, we will age the same."

Sunny's eyes rounded. "You stay here? Is that something you considered?"

Ian steadied his resolve. "Recently. If that is the only way to have you, it is what I will do."

"But, Ian, you would lose centuries of life!"

"They will be of little consequence if you are not at my side, Edinara."

Sunny stared at him. "You would do that for me?"

"Anything. I would do anything for you. Do you not understand that yet?"

Sunny jumped up and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Ian!" She put her hands on either side of his face. "I would never ask that of you. Never." She stood and pointed to the water. "The ocean has always drawn me to it. If we're together, that is where we'll make our home."

Relief flooded Ian, but he tried to keep his face from showing it. He would've lived up here, but he was sure he would not have liked it.

"So, there is only one more thing, at least right now," Sunny said. “My family."

Ian leaned forward, folding his hands around hers. "I have thought of that as well. I can bring you to see your family from time to time. It is not so far away."

Sunny scrunched her face. "And what do you think about that? Being around humans so much?"

"It would be... fine," Ian said. Certainly better than living up here all the time.

Sunny burst out laughing. "Oh yes, I can tell by the curl of your lips. Pfft. No wonder you don't lie, you are so bad at it."

"I would not hesitate to do it for you," Ian said. "I will learn to love your family as you do." Sunny looked down at her hands, nervously twisting through his before lifting her gaze to Ian. "Truly?"

"Truly." Hope brightened her wide blue eyes. He could sense her teetering on the edge of a decision, and he would do nothing to jeopardize it from swinging in his favor. He even refrained from breathing though it was time for him to inhale.

Instead, he studied her face for any small micro-movement telling him what he wanted to hear. He stretched his senses to her, hoping for some little hint.

Then he felt it. A relaxing of the wall she tried to keep him behind. He saw it in a loosening of the tiny muscles by her eye.

It was as if he had swum from a black underwater cave out to a bright, sunlit reef bursting with color. All the hues of life that disappeared when she walked out of his life came rushing back to him. Ian seemed blinded by the sight of her as he watched the final words fall from her full, rosy lips.

"Whatever this thing between us is," Sonora said. "I'm so very tired of trying to drive it away. Let's not fight it anymore. I want to try." Sonora's eyes went to her twisting hands.

Ian laid a hand over hers to still them. "Are you nervous, Edinara?"

"Not over what you are going to say, Ian. I know that, without a doubt. It's everything else that is an unknown."

"Do not be worried." Ian wanted to drop to his knees in front of her, but such a display would only strain her already shredded nerves. Instead, he brought her hand to his lips, gently kissed it and casually said, "And as for my answer…" He shrugged as if he were nonchalant over the whole thing. "Sure, my heart, whatever you would like to do."

Sonora giggled and flashed her eyes up at him. She shoved at him, then plopped herself down on his lap and buried her head in his neck.

Ian was wrapping his arms around her when several splashes from the rolling ocean caught their attention. Dolphins frolicked in the moonlit waves.

"Look!" Sunny said.

"They are happy for us, happy we have found our Jata Ara."

Sunny's eyes roamed the horizon. "Oh, Ian. It's so beautiful!"

Ian pulled her closer to him and whispered, "And it is all yours. I promise, my love."

Sunny threaded her arms through Ian’s. His heart pounded as he held her body against him. He tightened his grip on her. A warm glow flared through Ian, and he was certain this was the most joy he'd ever felt.

Five

Goodbye for Now

Chapter Five

Sonora and Ian still sat together when the doors to the hall burst open. Blake came rushing toward them, eyes wide and face pale. The two jumped from the chair.

"Ian!" Blake said. "There are men here. Men who, I believe, are from the place I told you about. Something I would not wish on my worst enemy and definitely not my old friend. You need to leave. Leave now."

Ian looked from Blake to Sonora. His arm tightened around her.

Sonora grabbed his arm. "Ian, if you are in danger, you need to go." She looked from him to her grandfather. "We can sort this all out later.”

Ian pulled Sonora to him, his tense muscles like steel as she leaned into him. With a gentle hand, he tipped her face toward him and gazed into her eyes. Something near her heart shifted. She frowned, trying to understand what it was.

Ian winked and turned to the balcony's railing. For a moment, he balanced there, staring at her. “Goodbye for now, Edinara,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. Then he pushed off and dove into the ocean.

Sonora rushed to the railing, clutching it as her stomach flip-flopped out of fear. Somehow it seemed as if she were the one free-falling. Suddenly, exhilaration shoved away the dread. Ian's exhilaration.

Sonora pulled in a hard breath as she allowed the feeling to fill her. She wrapped her arms around her body as if she could hold him. So, this was what it was like. Not a little flash this time, but a minute of full connection.

Filled with wonder over this new experience, she sensed the loss when the connection broke. Hands clenching the rail, Sonora searched the water for him. A stirring under the surface drew her eye. What was he doing?

A moment later, Ian reappeared bare-chested, his tux floating on the water beside him. He looked up at her. His emotions rolled over Sonora so strong she took a step backward. Love, promise, then concern over his roughness in reaching out to her.

Sonora didn't know how to respond. Not the emotion, she knew how she felt, but the mechanics of it. She pushed toward him, but she was sure her attempt was so feeble he would never sense it. So, she stepped back to the edge and waved, "I'm fine! I—"

Blake stepped to her. "He needs to go now, honey."

A deep sadness filled her, but she tried to push it away, afraid that would be the feeling Ian took away with him. She needed to send him her care and concern. It seemed as though she failed miserably. But with a wave, and one more shot of love to wrap around herself, Ian sank below the waves.

Sonora put her hands over her face, and her grandfather put his arms around her shoulders, offering comforting words. She looked up at him. "Grandpa, I don't know how to…" she waved her hand between herself and Blake. "Can you teach me?"

"It's been so long, Sunny. I'm like a child at it myself." He laughed. "Worse than a child, actually. Atlantian children are born with the skill. It only needs to be developed."

Sonora's head drooped. "I don't like disappointing him. And I'm worried that's all I'll ever do. If I could do this one thing, at least a little."

Blake squeezed his eyes shut, his heart aching. It was starting already. How many times had his own Sarah worried she disappointed him? Too many times to count.

Why hadn't he listened to his own doubts earlier, when those men had entered the reception hall? There was no mistaking them. Bullies dressed in suits, hand hovering over their waists where, no doubt, a gun was attached to their belts. Blake immediately knew why they were there. Perhaps, he still sensed some after all.

For a moment, he'd sat there. If Ian disappeared, Sunny would be free. But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he'd pushed it away. That wasn't the kind of man he was anymore. He wouldn't let Ian be subjected to the torture those people inflicted.

Blake shook himself. What was done, was done. There was no time to dwell on it now. He grabbed Sunny's hand and pulled her down a flight of stairs that ran along the side of the building.

Sunny gripped his hand. "Grandpa?"

"We can't let them catch us," he said.

Sunny's voice quivered with panic as she ran. "But Grandpa, they don't know about us too, do they?"

Blake's heart trembled. "I don't know what they know. But they ignored me coming in so my guess is that they are only after Ian, but I'm not taking any chances. I don’t want to be out on that balcony.”

At the bottom of the stairs, two choices waited. Head for the large open parking lot or the restrooms.

Blake pulled Sunny down the darkened hall and shoved her into the women's and said, "Stay put!" Then he slammed the door shut.

Sonora leaned her back against the smooth wood door, catching her breath. It was quiet for a few minutes. Then shoes scraped against the hallway's tile floor.

The low rumble of rough male voices sounded. Sonora made out Blake's voice as he said, "I'm waiting for my granddaughter."

More rumbling, but she couldn't hear what they said. Were the thugs giving her grandpa trouble? She felt sick.

Sonora scanned the room for anything she could use to help them get out of this mess. She eyed the sink and rushed to it, turning it on high and letting it splash her dress. She patted more water on her face, then hurried to the door and grabbed the handle.

Sonora threw open the bathroom door and stepped out. She put a hand to the brick wall and bent at her waist. "Whoa, Grandpa, I may have upchucked a small animal in there!" She put one arm around her stomach. "Musta been those shrimp. You all didn't have any shrimp, did you?"

The men's emotionless gaze took her in and dismissed her.

"Or, I don't know," she continued. "Maybe I have a fever." She laid a hand on her forehead as she stepped closer to her grandfather and the men. "Do you think I have a fever? Oh wait," Sonora half-turned back to the restroom and clenched her stomach. "Oh no, false alarm."

Sonora stumbled back to Blake and took his arm, hanging onto it for dear life. She coughed in the men's direction and wiped at her mouth before holding out a hand to shake theirs. "Hi. Are you friends of grandpa's?"

One man looked at Sonora and Blake with a frown and said, "Nothing here." They turned and ran back up the stairs.

Once the thugs were out of earshot, Blake proudly whispered, "Good thinking."

"I'm not sure it took that much thinking." Sonora giggled. "My nerves are shot. And their dead-fish eyes were making me nauseous, anyway.”

Six

A Start

Chapter Six

Later that night, Sonora changed from her bridesmaid dress to more comfortable clothes. She hung the outfit on a hanger over her white closet door, and she stared at the gown as she sniffed her bouquet. She would never forget tonight. Never.

Sonora turned down the sea-blue covers of her bed and removed half of the pillows she piled on its surface during the day. When she flopped down on the mattress, it hardly bounced. She had the plushest bed on the market. It felt as if she were floating on the ocean.

She rubbed at her face. Why had she even laid down? She was more amped up than she'd been this morning. Sleeping was out of the question. Sonora sighed. When her stomach growled, she was almost relieved and laughed. With all the excitement at the reception, she hadn't eaten more than a few bites all evening.

Sonora made her way down the stairs to the large kitchen and opened one of the two refrigerator doors. Without an overhead light, the square little fridge dome needed to do all the work, and after the darkness of her room and the hallway, seemed bright and caused Sonora to squint. She found a large tin pan of leftover salad. After putting it on the island, she stood at the counter and dug out a bowlful.

While crunching on her last bite of lettuce, her grandfather's kitchen light flashed on. She watched through both her and his windows as he crossed his kitchen to the back door. She narrowed her eyes. A big shadow broke away from the rest of the darkness and stood to wait by Blake's door.

Ian.

Sonora shoved the salad back into the refrigerator and grabbed a couple wedding cookies from a tray piled high with them. She threw a glance toward the stairs, but there was only silence. Her parents must be fast asleep already. Sonora crept out of the house and across the small yard. She tapped at her grandfather's door.

Blake opened the door, a frown on his weathered face. "You shouldn't be here."

She slipped by him. "I think we are past that, Grandpa. Besides, I have questions."

Ian's deep chuckle echoed through the kitchen, and he said, "Here we go."

"You," Sonora said as she rushed to Ian. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am fine."

"Should you be here? Up here, I mean?"

Ian gave a casual shrug as he walked closer to her. Sonora leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. If she let him wrap those muscled arms around her, Sonora’s emotions would be more a swirl than they already were. Where Ian was concerned, her emotions were already too out of control for her taste when she needed to figure out stuff.

Ian accepted her distance and leaned against the marble counter beside her, his fingers wrapped around its edge.

Sonora gave Ian a once-over to make sure he had no injuries. She giggled and rolled her eyes as he stretched taller and rolled his muscles. Men. They were the same no matter if from the air or the sea, apparently. Give them a little attention, and they preen. Clearly, he thought she eyed him for a completely different reason. But Sonora had to admit the view was pretty nice.

Sonora cleared her throat and pointed at each of them. "Something is going on here. More than I've figured out, so explain. I don't care who starts, or where you start, just start."

Ian coughed and moved away when Sunny's finger pointed at him. Blake immediately looked at the kitchen's cream-tiled floor, guilt written all over his face. Ian understood. The last thing Blake wanted was his family to know what he had done. The man could barely think about it.

Blake shot Ian a panicked glance, silently asking for his help, but he received none. Ian ignored him and paced back and forth across the kitchen floor. The man had made this bed.

Blake stuttered, "H-honey, I wasn't… who I am now. What I did…" He choked, unable to continue.

Ian's pacing slowed as Blake trailed off. His friend was guilty of many things, and he would have to face them. But he had helped Ian today, and he would return the favor.

Ian moved to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair, waving Sunny into it. She gave him a ghost of a smile. This was so similar to their dinners at his home. Ian smiled back and glanced at Blake. The man's face was so pale, Ian was afraid he would fall over.

Ian took Sunny's hand. "A long time ago, an artifact was taken. A significant one to our people. It is a piece we brought down from the original Atlantis. We have searched for it for decades. Your grandfather knows where it is, and he will help me retrieve it."

Sunny frowned. It seemed she knew this wasn't the entire story. "You're meeting with Grandpa about this?"

Ian nodded.

"Okay then, where is it?"

Blake shot a look that said thank you to Ian. "It was at the Museum of Natural History, in some back room somewhere. But Ian heard it would soon be loaned to the Marine Center's little museum."

Sunny’s gaze bounced between the two men. "Please don't tell me it is a beautiful carved wooden box about this big." She mimicked the size with her hands. "With tiny jewels embedded in it."

Ian stood, put a hand on the table, and leaned toward Sunny. "Yes! You have seen it?"

"Uh, yeah. I was at the Center a couple days ago, and it was all Aunt Claire and Uncle Devon could talk about. They are very excited about the exhibit. Everyone there is. I don't think you are going to be getting it away from them anytime soon."

Ian turned, crossed his arms, and leaned against the kitchen table as he stared at Blake.

"Well," Blake said. "We have to."

"Grandpa, you don't understand. There are like days and days of special events going on and—"

Blake shook his head. "We have no choice, Sunny. It's a matter of life and death."

"What are you talking about?" Sonora asked. "Who's life? And why is it your job to get it back?"

Blake rubbed his chest, then walked to Sonora and ran a hand down her arm. "I've always known I'd need to explain. But I'm afraid I can only confess bits at a time. You asked for a start, and this is a start. I hope you can accept that."

Sonora's stomach tightened. Something was really bothering her grandfather. And she didn't know why, but she felt it was something really, really, bad. "It's okay, Grandpa."

Blake squeezed his eyes shut. "No, sweetheart, it isn't." He shook his head and opened his eyes, looking down at her with the saddest expression Sonora had ever seen. "Right now, Sunny, I can tell you that I… I had something to do with the Artifact being on land. That's why I want to help get it back."

"Okay, that's good, Grandpa."

Blake kissed the top of Sonora's head. "And whose life is in jeopardy? Everyone’s. Every single person who walks this land, including our family."

Sonora grabbed her grandfather's arm and felt the dread that rolled off him. She put a hand out for Ian. When he took it, she sensed his dismay. Whatever this was, it was even worse than she imagined. Sonora felt numb.

The men exchanged a long look. "Well," Blake said and sighed. "If what we have in mind doesn't work, we will need to steal it.”

Seven

My Main Man

Chapter Seven

After creeping back into her bed, Sonora tossed and turned all night. What had her grandfather gotten himself into? And what had he done in the past that still haunted him after all this time?

She dozed off right before sunrise only to be woken up, shortly after, by her dad for a pancake breakfast.

Sonora followed him down the stairs, rubbing her eyes and yawning. "You are aware, Dad, I'm only up for the pancakes."

Mike chuckled and glanced over his shoulder at her. "Long day yesterday and crazy night, eh?"

"You have no idea."

At the bottom of the stairs, Mike turned and put an arm around Sonora. "I saw you dancin' with that man. I'm not losing you too, am I?"

Her dad kept his tone light, but it was clear he had deep feelings about his daughters moving on with their lives.

Sonora squeezed him back. "You'll always be my main man, Daddy."

Mike kissed the top of her head. "I wish that were true, honey. Let's just say I'll be your main man over fifty."

Sonora gave a weak laugh. Since Ian was over eighty…

Mike grabbed her hand and pulled her into the kitchen. ”Come on. Your mom made our favorite. Pecan!"

She giggled when her father's eyes lit up at the last word. Pecans were indeed their favorite, but it's not like they didn't get them often. Every weekend mom made the delicious little flapjacks for them.

Sonora was mid-bite, her mouth full of the buttery, syrupy goodness when her grandfather popped his head into the kitchen door. Blake scanned the room, nodding to the rest of the family, then looked at Sonora and tipped his head at her then his house. "Hey, pumpkin, you ready?"

She looked down at her plate, then at Blake. Mouth still full, Sonora pointed her fork at her plate. She wasn't going anywhere until she finished her favorite breakfast.

Blake snorted and plopped into Sierra's empty chair. "Knowing how many pancakes you can put away, I'll be here a while. I might as well have some too."

Once breakfast was over, Sonora helped clear up. Then she loaded a heaping plate of leftover pancakes. When her mother gave her a strange glance, she said, "I hardly ate yesterday. I might get hungry later."

Azurine laughed as Sonora grabbed the syrup and tucked it under her arm as she walked out the door. Sonora whispered to her grandfather, "Is he still there?"

Blake nodded.

Ian was in the kitchen of Blake's house, waiting for them. When Sonora noticed he'd been eagerly looking for her, she couldn't help but go to him. After giving him a one-armed hug, she held the pancakes to his face. "I brought you a plate."

Ian examined it without saying a word.

Sonora sighed. "They're pancakes."

“I am aware of what they are. I have never ate them."

Sonora made a shocked face. “How could you not? They're delicious. These are pecan pancakes, my mother's recipe." When Ian still frowned, Sonora huffed and waved a finger at him. "After everything I ate at your place. I willingly downed everything you gave me. I expect you to eat the food of my people and enjoy it.”

Ian threw up his hands in surrender. "I'm eating them. I'm eating them." He shoved a massive forkful into his mouth and stopped, his eyes widening. After swallowing, he said, "You’re right. They are delicious."

As Ian ate, Blake filled Sonora in, "I googled the museum. You're right, it's part of the new exhibit." He heaved a sigh. "We don't want to ask this of you, but we can't be seen there. Can you go in and scope it out? See where the closest exit is, how it is set up? That sort of thing. We can do everything else from there."

"Yep, sure. I was going to help you, anyway."

The men exchanged a glance and tensed. Ian took her hand and said, "It is my desire that you are far away from that place." Sonora started to shake her head, and Ian scowled. "You may help with this, but nothing else. I will not allow it."

Sonora frowned back. "It's not up to you to allow me anything. Besides, look at yourselves. Ian, you’re so overgrown, people can spot you for miles. You would definitely be noticed."

Ian scoffed and folded his arms at Sonora's exaggeration, but he didn't deny that heads turned when he walked into a room.

Blake hooted. "Guess it helps I'm the smallest in my family."

Sonora continued, “And Grandpa when you get that mean expression on your face, no offense ‘cause I love you, but you look downright creepy.”

Ian snorted in amusement.

Sonora recrossed her arms and huffed. "So, I'm going to help as much as I like. And that's the end of that discussion. I warn you, I'm still tired from yesterday and grumpy."

"I had not noticed," Ian mumbled as he put his dirty plate and silverware in the dishwasher.

Sonora shot him a stern glance and said, "But me? Who is going to suspect lil' ol' me?" She pushed at her long, blonde hair and batted her eyes.

Blake laughed. "I have to admit with those big blue eyes you are the picture of innocence, even when grumpy. You could pass for many things, but never a nefarious criminal. I just hate you going alone."

"What if I invite a bunch of my friends to go with me? Absolutely no one will find a bunch of giggling girls suspicious!"

Both men heartily agreed.

"Before we do this, I have a couple of questions for the two of you," Sonora said. The men groaned in unison. She made a face at both of them, then asked Ian, "You told me your people visited up here, but you know an awful lot for a visitor. I mean, how many Atlantians can drive, or fill the dishwasher correctly?"

Ian's eyes glittered as he looked at her. "Your boldness and perception make me proud, Edinara." Sonora gave him a shy smile and glanced down. He continued, "I have been chasing down this artifact for decades."

"And according to what you said last night, my grandfather."

Blake looked at the floor and scuffed his foot.

Ian agreed, "Yes."

"How many years?"

"Over fifty years."

"Over fifty years?" Sonora's hand flew to her open mouth. "Grandpa was young then! You knew Grandpa when he was young."

Blake moved to stand by her. "Yes, dear, we were friends."

She glanced from one man to the other. That made sense. There was a familiarity between the two of them, they read each other well.

"Grandpa, did you know you would age like a human?"

"It hadn't been tested, because very few Atlantians stay above water for any length of time. There were always rumors, but they went either way. Perhaps all the stories are true, perhaps some Atlantians age out of the water, and some don't. Unless something else has happened that I’m not aware of." He looked at Ian, who shook his head. Blake continued, "But, Sunny, I didn't care so don't feel bad for me."

Sonora eyed her grandfather, wondering if his love for her grandmother had kept him here. But she didn't want to bring up a painful memory, so she didn't ask him.

She pointed at Blake. "I would assume it best to believe the evidence of the one Atlantian who has been here."

"Other factors could be at play," Blake said.

"Other factors?"

"The men last night—" he started then stopped short.

"Yes. Who were the men last night?" Sonora turned to Ian. “I listened without a word because I wasn't going to endanger you, but why are they chasing you?"

Ian put his hands on Sonora's arms. “They want to study us, find out why we are different and take what they can from our bodies no matter what it does to us," said Ian.

Ian looked over at Blake and tipped his head for him to tell Sonora his story.

"When I was young, one of those people kidnapped and experimented on me. I endured for many years, until your grandmother helped me escape. I couldn't even tell you what they did. Maybe they took away some of what makes us—us."

Sonora's face fell. "Oh, Grandpa."

Blake sighed as his hands moved to the buttons of his shirt. Sonora looked at him with a question in her eyes. Her grandfather never took off his top, not during the muggiest of weather. He even wore a t-shirt when swimming.

As Blakes shirt fell away, Sonora saw why. Horror covered her face as she saw the zigzag of scars across his chest and stomach. They puckered around his side, from his back to his front. Some were old and silvered, some still reddish in color. There were so many scars, Sonora would've been hard put to lay her palm on any smooth piece of skin.

She softly cried as she flew to his arms. "What did they do to you?”

Eight

The Most Danger

Chaper Eight

Ian stepped back, giving Sunny and Blake room. The love they showed for one another moved him, made him confident of one thing. Argos from Atlantis no longer existed, Blake had taken his place. Vengeance no longer lived in this man's heart.

The council sent Ian after Argos for two reasons; the Artifact and the Atlantian murders. Ian now understood Blake hadn't committed those murders, and the old man was willing to help recover the Artifact.

As far as the humans Argos had killed, most Atlantians cared little about that. A few less humans didn't bother them one bit.

Ian shifted as he leaned on the counter, glancing at Sunny’s curves. The prejudice against humans would need to change, or at least temper. He wouldn't have Sunny uncomfortable in her new home.

Ian looked back at the old man. The Artifact. If they could right that wrong, maybe it would be the end of this. Blake could live the rest of his short life with his family. He hoped the council agreed that the years of torture Blake had endured would enough to pay for his misdeeds. All Blake had was his family, and Ian was reluctant to take him away from it.

Sunny leaned away from her grandfather and eyed Ian. "Are the men who did this to Grandpa the same ones after you? To hurt and kill you?"

Ian gravely nodded. “Not the same men, but the same group."

Sunny's eyes grew wide. "You need to leave! Leave now!"

"I will leave—after we get the Artifact."

Sunny put a hand to her heart, then rushed to Ian and grabbed his arm. "Let Grandpa and me take care of that. We can meet you at the beach when we have it. You can't take this chance. I can't—I can't take the chance they would take you and do what they did to Grandpa!"

Ian crossed his arms. "This is my mission, and it is for me to take care of. It is you who are in the most danger. That is why you will not be helping to recover the Artifact."

Sunny shook his arm. "Don't be so high-handed. How am I in the most danger?"

Ian clenched his jaw so tight his teeth ground together. He couldn’t say the words, the thought made him sick enough.

Blake reached out a hand to Sunny. "Because dear, if they want to study a full-blood, then you can bet they would love to get their hands on someone mixed. And as far as we know, they’ve only studied males. You would be a prize to them."

Sunny's face paled. It was almost as if Ian watched the blood drain from it. It must have been the first time she considered that her freedom, her body, and her life were in danger. Ian sensed her horror, this realization life-changing for her.

Ian wrapped his arms around her, whispering to her. "No one will touch you! I will die before I let any of them near you!"

Sunny clung to him. "I didn’t imagine what this meant for the rest of us, only about the two of you. When I think about the people who are intolerant of other races—well, what would they do if they knew we existed? If they hunt you two, why would I be any different?" Sunny squeezed her eyes shut. "And whoever captures and—and does that—" she threw her hand toward her grandfather "—and kills Atlantians, how often do they do that?"

Ian looked down at her with sad eyes. "There have been many."

Sonora gasped. "Oh Grandpa, all of us. Mom, Aunt Claire, Sienna. Would they come after Dad and Uncle Devon too? All of us are in danger. We always have been."

Blake hurried to reassured her. "No one knows. The average person wouldn't guess, and those people suppose I'm dead. It's okay."

Sonora wiped at her tear-filled eyes as she turned to Ian. "You thought Grandpa had something to do with those Atlantian murders, didn't you?"

"Yes. I came to take your grandfather back for trial, but now I am aware it was not him." Ian smoothed Sunny's hair. "Do not fret, the council will believe me. And if we can get the Artifact, then I will take it, and your grandfather, back and see what the council says. The Artifact may satisfy them. Especially if I tell them what was done to him. They are merciful people."

Sunny moved to hug Blake, and Ian scrubbed his face with his hands. As much as he hoped that would be the end of it, he worried it wouldn't be. Because if Blake had never left the water, none of this would have happened. The Artifact would've stayed where it belonged—instead of lost and jeopardizing the Atlantian's ability to fulfill their oath. And this insane group of humans would never have found Blake and started this mad course they were on.

If only Blake had listened all that time ago. The man could have locked himself in his home as he had. Ian ran a hand through his hair. He wasn't sure what the council would feel was a fair punishment for that.

Nine

Confessions

Chapter Nine

When Sonora returned home to get ready for an afternoon of snooping around the museum at the Marine Center, her mom and Aunt Claire sat at the kitchen table. Azurine's special china teapot proudly sat on a flat wood trivet beside three matching cups. One for Azurine, one for Aunt Claire. Sonora didn’t need to think too hard about the other one.

It was clear the women wanted to talk and given the events of last night, there was only one topic that came to Sonora's mind: Ian. Sonora bit her lip as she quickly decided how much she should say.

"Is there something you would like to tell us, Sunny?" her mother prompted with a giggle. "About your special visitor at the wedding last night, perhaps?"

Special visitor. Oh, man. Sonora sank into the tall-backed chair. She knew these women. This would be unavoidable. She could run, but they wouldn't let this go.

So, almost absentmindedly, Sonora said, "Oh yeah, that was Ian. His family are the ones who helped me after I, you know, had the water incident."

Azurine's eye sparkled. "You didn't tell me he was so attractive."

"Yeah, he's real attractive, Mom."

"And he seems to like you. He couldn't take his eyes off my daughter."

Ugh, Mom. Sonora poured and handed out the beverages. Perhaps she could hurry this along. "Yeah, he seems to like me."

Aunt Claire leaned back in her seat, eyes narrowed, as she sipped at her steamy cup. "Will we be seeing him again soon?"

"He was only visiting, and it' s—well, it's just a weird situation."

Aunt Claire put down her teacup and made her way to the kitchen counter, picking up the French press. “Hurry and drink your tea, and we can drink something a bit stronger. I made it exactly the way you like it.”

Azurine wrinkled her nose. "You two and your coffee. A nice cup of tea is so much better."

"Yes, well, dear sister, I would need to drink twenty of those for the serious caffeine in one of my cups."

"That, I believe," Azurine said.

Claire poured her niece a cup of coffee, then ignoring the chair she'd just left, sat down beside Sonora.

"I can't help being a coffee snob," she said as she sniffed her cup. "Only the best bean will do, freshly ground and pressed into perfection. An acquired taste, perhaps, but one I'm glad I taught Sunny."

Claire and Sonora exchanged a look and a giggle as they sipped at the hot, flavorful brew. They closed their eyes and savored the ribbon of liquid as it ran over their tongue. When Sonora opened her eyes, they raised their eyebrows at each other. A perfect cup.

"Want to come to the aquarium tomorrow?" Claire asked Sonora.

Sonora's shoulders sagged. "I wish, but I have to work. Maybe the day after?"

As Sonora sipped, she studied her mother and aunt. They were half-Atlantian. Could she spot it? There was talk of genealogy before, but Sonora realized now, it was always about her grandmother or her father's side of the family. Her mother and aunt had to be aware about the Atlantian connection. Grandpa hadn't told her to keep it to herself, but Sonora needed to know for sure.

She gripped the handle of her cup and said, “I've been wondering, Mom, what we know about our heritage. Some of my friends are getting into the DNA thing. I've been thinking about getting it done."

Azurine's eyes widened. She looked down at the table and cleared her throat.

Mom knew.

Aunt Claire piped up, "Who are you wondering about?"

"Well, we don't know any of grandma and grandpa's extended family. I mean, we have to have some cousins out there. So, I guess I would start with them. Don't you think Grandpa would like to find some family?"

When Azurine and Claire exchanged a glance, Sonora was sure they both knew. She might as well go for it.

Sonora pulled in a breath. "So, would some of my DNA come back as unknown? Is grandpa … different?"

Worry covered Azurine's face as she rose and put her arms around her daughter. "Oh, Sunny… I… I just…"

Sonora patted her mom's hand and nervously laughed. "Because if so, do I have a fish story for you!"

Azurine and Claire looked at each other, eyes wide and mouth open. Claire recovered first. "You know?"

"I know."

"How?" Azurine asked.

"It's a long story," Sonora said and turned her shining eyes to her mom, her voice dropping to an awed whisper. "Mom, I was there! It still seems like some sort of dream."

"You were?" her mother asked, excitedly. "I've always wanted to go."

"Tell us," Claire said. "Tell us all about it."

Sonora started from the moment she dipped her toes into those warm beach waters and continued to the day she came home. She wiggled straighter in her chair, her body lighter. Keeping this story from the people she loved had eaten at her, and she was relieved to confess it. The only thing she held back was the immediate feelings Ian had for her though she admitted there their growing affection for one another.

Somehow the connection with him seemed personal and rather fragile. She'd felt that flash last night as he dove into the ocean as if Ian’s emotions had laid beside hers for those precious few minutes. But it quickly dissolved, and she hadn’t sensed it since, not even in the kitchen this morning. Sonora wasn't sure why, but if something wasn't working right, it was surely her fault.

Azurine reached out and ran a hand over Sonora's hair. "Sunny, you're glowing. I'm happy for you."

Sonora hugged her mother then she excused herself to go to the restroom.

For a moment, the two sisters quietly sat at the table. Azurine spoke first, "Oh, Claire. She's falling in love with an Atlantian. What will this mean for her? And for the rest of the family? There always seemed to be something dark when Dad spoke about Atlantis."

Claire agreed, "If he did at all. Other than telling us about our heritage, which was really only for practical purposes, Dad told us very little."

Azurine put a hand to her cheek. "I don't want Sunny mixed up in any trouble. I hate to say it, but I hope her feelings for this man fades."

Claire leaned toward her sister as Sonora made her way through the living room back to them. "Don't worry, Z," she said, using her sister's childhood nickname. "it'll be okay."

Sonora returned and plopped down in her seat between the other two women. "Mom, Atlantis is so beautiful. I hope you can see it someday."

"I have always wanted to," Azurine admitted. "Even just once."

“Please tell us more about it," Claire said. "How have they kept so hidden all these years?”

Ten

There had been a Day

Chapter Ten

After Claire wiggled as much information about Ian and Atlantis as she was able from Sonora, she left the kitchen. Her breathing heavy as she leaned up against the hallway wall near the bathroom.

Thank God it had gone no further. Claire didn't know what she would have done if—no, she would never let that happen to Sunny. She would do anything to stop it.

She caught her lip between her teeth to hold back a sob, but a tear still escaped, running down her cheek. Once there had been a day when Claire felt as Sunny did. Now, the old hurt never moved away. She carried it every day as fresh as the day it came to her. It'd been so long now; Claire was sure it would linger until she died.

Against her will, Claire's mind drifted back to when she was Sonora's age when she'd still proudly used her full, original name, Clarion. She thumped her head against the wall and rubbed her aching heart attempting to stop the painful memories.

Fresh out of college, Claire had been so eager to put her training to work. She'd been dating Devon for a couple of years. He had the connections to get her into some of the best research.

Like Sonora, Claire spent hours in the ocean, learning and exploring. And one day as she walked through knee-high waves, Claire saw a man floating face down in the distance. Heart thumping, she raced to him as fast as possible, ignoring the drag of water against her legs.

On reaching him, she turned him over. It took most of her strength even with the water's buoyancy. The man was large, tall and muscular. When she finally got him face up, she stood struck. She had never seen a more beautiful person in her life.

He wasn't breathing. Huffing and sweating, Claire dragged him toward the beach.

She pushed his sun-streaked hair from his face and laid her lips to his. A bright, almost glaring wave passed through her. Claire jerked back and put a hand to her mouth.

She shook her head and tried again. This time, Claire ignored everything except her attempts to save his life, but her best efforts showed mixed results. The handsome man's heart beat, but not often enough, and his breathing sounded extremely irregular.

Claire scanned the beach but saw no one. In an age before cell phones, her options were limited, and the man's life was in her hands.

Too big for her to drag to her car, she looked him over to see what she could do. After finding a head wound, she washed it out. When he didn't stir during her nursing attempts, Claire worried he never would.

She sat beside the man for what seemed like hours. The sun dipped in the horizon, offering her a spectacular view of deep purple to pink. She remembered it vividly because of what came next.

He moved. A finger, then an arm. A groan. Claire turned to face him, for some reason she couldn't explain, putting one hand to his cheek.

She would never forget the moment he opened his eyes. They went from shut to open in one quick move as if he already knew she was there. Because he did.

His gaze was a warm chocolate brown. It encompassed her, filled her, and set her mind to wonder. The man's beautiful eyes crinkled as he offered an enormous smile. His words baffled her and yet somehow seemed utterly right.

"I have found you," he said.

As if a bolt of lightning traveled through her, her body shook, and the skies seemed to lighten. This would have been strange enough, but there was more. She felt her own awe and bewilderment. And she sensed his too.

Claire knew what love felt like. She loved Devon; she was sure of it. This was something else, something more. Sudden and consuming and amazing all at the same time. A connection that no one ever told her could exist.

The closest thing that came to mind was when she’d met the rare old couple who hung onto their love as if still fresh. They giggled and flirted with each other, finishing each other’s sentences and knowing each other's thoughts before even speaking. Exchanged glances weren't just looks, but volumes, decades of information.

It was like that. Only instantly, right at the start.

The man spoke again, this time a musical language she didn't understand. She shook her head, and he glanced down before looking back at her. “I thought, perhaps you understood our language. You must be one of us. You fit me so perfectly." He took Claire's hand. "It matters not. I will teach you."

His name was too complicated for her tongue. Until she learned it, he said, she would call him by his nickname, Bay. And he couldn't stop saying hers, proclaiming Clarion to be the most beautiful name in all the world, sea or land.

Bay. Amazing, beautiful Bay. Claire couldn't keep her eyes off him. It was if he shone in the sunlight, and glowed in the moonlight. Within a few days, he became everything to her.

She saw no obstacles to their romance, but he knew better.

One day he asked, “There is only one Atlantian permanently on land. Argos. Are you his daughter?"

Claire shook her head. "My father's name is Blake. Blake Karras."

Bay said nothing, but later confessed he realized her father must be Argos. It worried him. How would Argos react to his daughter's bond to an Atlantian? And would Bay's people accept her? At the time, he said nothing to her about his concerns. Instead, he reassured Claire.

"You are my Intended, my Jata Ara. It matters not what anyone else thinks, you took my breath with your first glance. We are bonded, and no one can break it."

Bay looked at her and ran his hand through her silky hair. As for him, it mattered not. She was his Intended, and she took his heart with her first glance.

Bay healed, and for weeks, they met, sometimes acting as though they were as normal as the beachgoers around them. Other times, finding hiding places along the sea. They fell deeper in love, if that was possible, and every level of it surprised and delighted Claire.

One day, Argos followed his daughter and found their hiding place. Claire trembled as she saw a rage in her father she hadn't thought possible. She put a hand out to him, trying to bring back her loving parent.

"Daddy, I love him more than I ever realized a person could."

The anger left her father, and he sagged. "You are truly bonded then. I cannot take away from you what they ripped away from me." He hugged Claire as he stared at Bay with steely eyes. "If you want my blessing, I have two conditions. You must never break these."

Both eagerly nodded.

"No one in Atlantis can ever recognize Clarion as my daughter. I do not want my sins to be visited upon her. And, Clarion, you must always say, and act, as if you are entirely human."

Bay objected at first. “A human wife will not be popular, may even endure ridicule and prejudice. But Clarion, if you can endure it, I will do my best to temper any bad behavior by my people."

Claire gazed at Bay with love-filled eyes. "Anything. Anything to be with you."

"I feel the same." Bay lowered his head to hers, gazing deeply into her eyes.

Plans began to be made. Claire was in the midst of it all when Devon appeared at her front door, begging for yet another chance. Even though she told him months ago it was over, he refused to believe it. When he left, Claire felt a small pang.

She pushed any worry about Devon away. One week and Atlantis would be her home. She would live there with Bay, make a life with him. The next day, Claire anxiously waited by the window, wanting to see the smile he always reserved for her.

He didn't come.

Claire fretted, picking at her nails, pacing the floor. The day passed without him.

So did the next, and the next.

Claire became frantic. She scoured the beach and the seas, going as far as she could, her father at her side. She cursed whatever held Blake here on land, begging him to take her to Atlantis for any news of her Intended. But her father insisted he would not go. He argued it would only endanger Claire and the rest of his family. With a bowed head, he told her there was only one reason an Intended didn't come for his love, but she wouldn't hear it.

Weeks later, a boy knocked at the door with a small note for Claire. It held two words, poorly written. "Not coming." A crudely drawn shark sat at the edge of the paper. It was smudged as if a teardrop struck it, but Claire understood it couldn't be.

There would be no tears from someone who would be so cruel.

Bay had built her love, let Claire pour her heart and soul into his, then turned his back on her. Now he had left her with no last words of consolation. If he had, she could have at least pretended something about their relationship was real.

Claire mourned the loss of him, her agony spanning weeks and months.

Then, just like her father, her love turned to hate.

An angry fire burned within her as she tried to reenter everyday life. It was all she had, but it kept her warm, made her feel like at least a part of her was alive.

At some point, Devon started coming around again. He offered her his paltry love. She had loved him once, still did if that is what one called this feeling, after knowing what it could be. When he asked her to marry him, she accepted. It was something at least.

The first time Devon showed her his secret lab and explained his experiments on Atlantians, the flame inside her stirred. Her new husband called them abominations. It sounded right to her. She imagined Bay somewhere romancing another girl as he had romanced her and clamped her teeth together.

When Devon said he needed Claire's help to find more of his abominations, she agreed. She would leave the experimenting to her husband. She would send him the subjects. Besides, it made her husband happy, something she rarely seemed to do well.

So, not breathing a word of who and what she really was, she fell in line beside Devon. She had a good eye for finding them, and with a call to Devon, they disappeared. But it never made her suffering any better.

Claire came back to the present, her hands turning to fists. She would not let Sunny become the broken woman she had turned into. Claire renewed her vow to find this Ian. They almost had him at the wedding. They wouldn't fail next time.

Eleven

Soon

Chapter Eleven

Sonora dropped her last friend at home, waving through the open car window as the young woman suggested another day out in the next couple of weeks. Sonora agreed, but as she drove away, a pain started in her chest. If she went with Ian, would she be here in two weeks? Would she see her friends again? She yearned to be with Ian, but it wouldn’t be easy.

She wouldn't think about that right now. There were things to do. Maybe if the Atlantians got their Artifact back, they would see humans, in general, more favorably. And her in particular, given her race and her heritage. If that happened, eventually, things between the two races may be more open.

The Artifact. It seemed to be the key. But why? Did it really matter? Humans had attachments to plenty of old things, museums were full of stuff. No reason Atlantians shouldn't as well. There was no doubt Ian felt the box of the highest importance, and she respected him enough to take his word for it.

At least, the museum snooping went easier than she thought. Sonora smirked. And fun. Regardless of what she'd told her grandfather and Ian, she'd been a little nervous. It wasn't like she ever scouted a heist before.

Her girlfriends were a great help even if ignorant of the fact Sonora moonlighted as a criminal with their help. She took several selfies with fish tanks and sea mammals that included doors, exits, and cameras in the background. A request for some back-area tours finished Ian's list of areas to photograph. Sonora promptly texted all the photos to her grandfather's cell phone.

No one suspected a thing, even if they got irritated by giggling girls and their clueless questions. It was hard to keep it together when the five of them went out. It wouldn't have surprised her if the staff offered a little prayer of thanks as her group walked out the door.

Unhappy with the day ending there, her friends suggested shopping and a late dinner at Sammy's, a local seafood place with an upscale bar. The young women lingered there, reluctant for the night to end.

Sonora pulled into her driveway at midnight. Her grandfather's kitchen light brightened his dark house. Sonora made her way to his back door and tapped on it.

"Hey!" Sonora smiled at her grandfather and Ian. She settled in a chair across from the incredibly handsome man she could barely believe was her boyfriend. A little thrill shot through her. She reached for one of his hands lying on the table between them and folded it between her own. His hands were so large, so manly. She rubbed her finger along his veined thumb.

When Ian didn't respond besides a slight squeeze of her hand, Sonora glanced up at him. He had that little line between his eyes. She shrugged it off. It was probably hard for him to lie low when he usually had an entire ocean to roam.

Blake moved to stand beside her. "Are you okay?"

Sonora frowned. "Sure, I'm fine, Grandpa."

"It's been hours," Ian said, pulling his hand from hers and crossing his arms.

Okay, he was upset. Sonora looked from one man to the other. "Hours? Since I sent the pictures, yes. Did you think I was coming right back here?"

"We worried something happened, Sunny," Blake said. "I texted you. I even called your aunt and uncle and asked if they'd seen you there."

She yanked her phone out of her purse. Grandpa's name was on five of the notifications. Sonora raised a hand to her face. "I didn't realize… I should have texted again. I didn't mean to worry you. The girls and I shopped and then went to Sammy's. It was loud."

Ian sat up and frowned. "That is a bar."

"And a restaurant. A nice one," Sonora said, laughing. "Even good girls drink alcohol."

"Someone should have escorted you there," Ian said. "It is not safe up here."

Blake cleared his throat. "Well, Ian, she is my granddaughter, and I feel the same way, but it is the way they do things here."

Ian said, "It's irresponsible and dangerous. When Atlantians visit, women and children always have an escort. Even men travel together."

"You don't," Sonora shot at him.

"I am one of the exceptions. Warriors are free to travel on their own." Ian's gaze moved over Sonora. His eyes softened, but his attitude didn't. "You are small and defenseless. What could you do to protect yourself? You should have someone accompany you."

"The girls were with me."

Ian raised an eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes. "You are not my father."

Ian opened his mouth, then closed it. Until Sunny, he'd had little reason to understand much of the relationship between human men and women. He'd been taught to be polite and had studied one chapter on human relations in school that he barely paid attention to. That was the extent of his knowledge on the subject, and it was usually enough.

Ian glanced at Sunny's set mouth. She was angry. When she saw how little crime Atlantis had, she would realize how dangerous it was up here. Atlantian women had no problems with escorts on land, even though they roamed at will at home.

Earlier, as they waited for Sunny to finish her assignment, Blake had tried to explain human women to Ian. Apparently, the gulf between human men and women was wider than their own people. The weaker bond often caused women to take offense at their men's natural tendency to protect them. Instead of seeing it as a caring gesture, they found it controlling. On the other hand, Atlantian women could enjoy their mate's loving attention and gently push back when a man overstepped. Human women’s offense, in turn, caused their men to become angry. It didn't sound good.

Blake had heartily encouraged Ian to be the one to make the first move toward a reconciliation when a disagreement arose with Sunny. Ian glanced at Sunny stiff posture. He tensed and held out his hand. "I worry for you. Do not be angry because I care."

Sunny sighed, her eyes losing their glittery edge as her gaze softened. "I know. I suspect we'll have a lot of differences we'll have to hammer out."

Ian smiled. There would be another time to discuss her dangerous ways. "I enjoyed your pictures." He gave Sunny an intense stare. "The one in front of the dolphin enclosure was my favorite."

Sunny pinked and giggled.

Blake sighed. "Yes, he mooned over that one for a while." He cleared his throat and changed the subject to the task at hand—retrieving the Artifact.

Sunny sat patiently listening for a while, then asked, "And what will I do? Where will I be?"

"As far away from this as possible," Ian said. "You have done your part."

"I want to help, Ian."

Blake stepped to his granddaughter and put an arm around her. Sonora refused to look at him as if she knew what he planned to say would not be to her liking.

"Granddaughter, what you did today helped us more than we deserve. You did your part so well that all we have to do is go in and pick the thing up. It'll only take a couple of minutes, and that is all thanks to you. You are an amazing scout with wonderful photography skills—"

Ian smiled when Sunny relaxed and laughed. "Grandpa, you're laying it on really thick."

"I know, honey, but it's true." Blake kissed the top of her head. "And if Ian and I get caught, they have one crazy old man and an out of towner with an easy escape. If you get caught—well, you wouldn't get out of it so easily."

Sonora blew out a heavy sigh. "Okay. I guess."

Ian examined the exchange. Blake appeared a master at manipulating human women. He would be sure to listen to his advice concerning them. The relationship between himself and Sonora would have its waves, and Ian wanted to do everything he could to smooth them.

When Blake excused himself for a moment, Sunny sent Ian a blazing smile. He drank it in, letting it fill him. Tracing a finger on the back of her hand, Ian wished to wrap her in his arms. He wanted the feel of her against him so badly. His fingers twitched with need, and her eyes went to their entwined hands. Sunny knew what he wanted. He could sense it.

Ian moved his hand toward her. The movement was small, so small if she hadn't been looking at his hand, she would have never noticed it. But she did, and she saw it for what it was, a plea.

His heart thundered as he waited. Sunny's breathing quickened. One. Two.

She battled herself as she always did when it came to their relationship. It was not him now. It was what being with him would mean. Leaving her family, leaving her friends, the life she had built here, that she continued to build.

Three.

She blinked and let go of his hand, standing. After walking to him, she held out her hand and slowly slid her fingers over his. His flesh tingled, burned a trail where she touched.

Ian had been free with his gestures of affection from the beginning, a hand pulling her along, a protective arm around her waist, a loving finger running along her long, beautiful hair. She hadn't objected to his taking, but she rarely gave. He treasured each second of it now.

He let his gaze roam over her, from her long, tanned legs up to her bold, captivating blue eyes. Sunny leaned into him, running her free hand over his jaw, laying her thumb at the corner of his mouth. She stared at his lips until close enough to explore them. Ian groaned as they met. Soft, delicious, and a little hesitant, he took what she gave. Then needed more.

He pulled her to him, where he sat, tightening his arms until all he felt was her. Sunny's hair spilled like silk over his arm. Her skin smooth and hot under his. Her perfect lips molded to his will.

And Ian was lost. Lost in the moment, lost in her and blissfully happy. The connection flashed through him, bright white like lightning. He thrilled with it.

Sunny jerked back, eyes wide, her hands trembled as they gripped his biceps. "What was that?"

Ian pulled her back, eager to continue, but she resisted. "Ian! What was that—light or whatever? I don't even know what to call it."

"You didn't feel that last time?"

"No."

That was disappointing. But he must remember it took her longer. At least she had now. "Edinara, next time you sense it, fall into it. We will be as close as possible, experience each other's emotions on the greatest level."

Sunny flushed and wiggled closer to him, putting her arms around his neck. Just as Ian returned his lips to hers, they heard Blake making his way toward the kitchen.

Sunny gave him a regretful look. "Until later," she breathed in his ear before jumping off his lap.

Ian felt abandoned as she rushed to the other side of the table and dropped into the chair. Her pink face and plumped lips would give them away if nothing else did. They were hiding nothing.

Sunny's gaze darted to the archway of the kitchen as she cleared her throat. "When do you get the Artifact?"

It took a moment for him to register her words.

"Tonight. The sooner, the better, as you humans like to say."

"Tonight, really?"

Blake came into the room. One look at Sunny and he threw Ian a stern, uncomfortable glance. Ian shrugged. The situation was awkward, but the least of their problems. And he had every right to hold his Jata Ara. He wished he held her now.

"Do you have everything you need?" Sunny asked.

Both men nodded. They had checked and doublechecked. All supplies were packed in Ian's car, and they wore the mandatory dark-colored clothing.

"Why does it seem like I should be making you sandwiches or something?"

Blake smiled. "We aren't going on a field trip."

Sonora put a hand to her stomach. "I'm well aware of that."

Ian frowned and asked, "What is a field trip?"

"I'll explain in the car," Blake answered as he hugged Sunny and walked out the door.

It took two steps before Ian stood beside Sunny, and that had seemed too much. He put his hands on her arms and brought her closer. Staring into her eyes, he winced at what he needed to tell her. “I will be taking the Artifact back to Atlantis as soon as we get it."

"Tonight?" She looked shaken.

Ian rubbed her arm, trying to smooth the surprise and panic. "Yes, my love. The council needs it, and I want to tell your grandfather's story as soon as possible. As soon as I have a decision, I will be back."

Sonora glanced down. "Do you know when?"

"Not exactly, but I will not leave you for long."

She nodded and gave him a half-hearted smile. "It needs done."

She was sad, and he wasn't any better. Ian wanted to drag her back into his embrace and feel her in that way only Atlantians can. Lay her beside him both physically and emotionally. But now was not the time.

He pulled himself together and crushed her against him. Sunny laid her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around him so tight they felt like a band around his waist. It was comforting, reassuring after everything he'd been through to have her.

She uttered a sob.

"Oh, Sunny."

"Ignore me. I'm being silly."

"Not silly. Never that." The ache inside him grew. It would be harder to leave than he had expected. He sighed and laid his head on hers.

Sonora pulled back and gazed at him with tear-filled eyes, laying a hand on his cheek. "Please, be careful."

Ian nodded. "You need not worry. I am more than capable of taking care of myself."

She gave him a watery smile. "Still."

"I will."

He allowed himself one last look at her beautiful face. It was time to leave, he couldn't let this continue forever. He dragged his gaze from her, gently kissed her forehead, and closed his eyes. Ian let all his emotions pour to her. "You hold my heart, Jata Ara. I love you."

Sunny's sobbing intensified. She jumped up into his arms, laying her head on his neck. Hot tears dropped on his skin. She tried to talk, tried to choke out the words, but her emotions overwhelmed her. Maybe it was not just hers, but her newfound ability to feel his too.

"Sunny, are you okay?"

She shook her head as it laid against him. "I—I lo—"

Ian pulled away, sitting her on the table when she couldn't complete her sentence. Trying to tame his own aching heart, he did everything he possible to pull his emotions back to himself. She wasn't ready yet.

He used his thumbs to mop her face as she started to settle. "Feel better?"

"A little."

"I will be back soon, my heart. This is a small separation, and when I return, it will never need to happen again." He ran a hand over her hair before he turned and headed for the door. Ian glanced at Sunny as he locked the door and took in her brave face. He steeled himself to leave her, something he would have never dreamt he'd willingly do. It was only for a little while. He'd be back in a day or two at the most.

Twelve

The Heist

Chapter Twelve

Blake and Ian sat in their “borrowed” car, staring at the Marine Center. Ian's hands twisted on the steering wheel, and Blake's knee bounced like a teenager.

Ian chuckled. "All I want to do is jump out of this car, run across the street, and get this done."

Blake grunted his agreement.

Ian had broken human laws before, but to flaunt authority over nothing was not something he did. This case was different. While getting into the building may be illegal, the removal of the Artifact was not—it was his to take.

Ian drew in a deep breath and let it out as he looked at Blake. He hoped they didn't get caught. Where he would eventually get away, Blake was literally putting his freedom on the line.

"It is time," Ian said.

"Yep."

With bowed heads, they kept to the shadows, raising the hoods of their sweatshirts. There was no doubt cameras hidden somewhere nearby were tracking them.

After making their way to the back door of the museum, Blake revived some of his old skills. As he worked with the wires, his hands trembled. He snorted. "Not as steady as I used to be."

But they were lucky. It was a small museum with an outdated security system, so cutting the power was an easy matter. When it was done, Blake wiped the sweat from his brow.

"Your turn," he said to Ian and moved away so Ian would step up to the lock.

Earlier, while Blake had poured over security systems, Ian spent his time learning how to pick a lock. As Ian worked, he wondered how Sonora had gotten close enough and gotten the pictures she did without arousing suspicion. He decided he didn't want to know.

Both the men held their breath as they slowly squeaked the steel door open. Several large crates and boxes were scattered around the barely-lit shipping and receiving area. Blake's foot scraped against the concrete floor. The sound echoed.

Ian's eyes quickly adjusted to the gloom, and he shot a look at Blake. The old man nodded. It seemed he hadn't lost his people’s sharper night vision. Crucial in the dim depths of the ocean, or the pitch black of an underwater cave, where an Atlantian needed to see with confidence.

Ahead was an interior door, light spilling from around its frame. The men cautiously moved toward it. On one side of them were make-shift hallways created out of metal shelving. They needed to go through them to reach the next room.

Near the door, they stopped and listened. Ian's heart thumped until he slowed it. Blake nodded to Ian that he felt it was safe, and Ian agreed. He cracked the door, peeking through before he opened it wider.

They stepped into a lobby-like room with a few red-covered chairs and a desk. An open, wood door led to a gray-carpeted area. Across from that door was a side-by-side commercial glass door. Through those was the museum area.

With care, they moved through the clear doors. Ian raised a surprised eyebrow at Blake and grinned. He'd expected them to be locked. Still, they would have to watch for any security guards.

In this exhibit area, the muted light shone from low areas around the exhibits, though an occasional low-watt ceiling glow could be seen. Ian took a few steps further into the museum and scanned the area, and waved Blake in.

After creeping past more than a few exhibits about the local area and explanations of local flora and fauna, they rounded a corner to a larger room. Blake huffed out a breath and stepped back, bumping into Ian. A large shadow loomed over them. Before Ian could stop him, Blake struck at it.

The stuffed bear wobbled on its foundation. It loudly creaked as it moved back and forth on its furry back legs. The bear's stiff raised arms looked as if it were ready to attack the men. Blake hurried to steady it, shooting an apologetic look at Ian. After making sure they were not heard, the men resumed their careful, quiet trek around the displays.

The air was heavy with the scent of saltwater from the large tanks on the other side of the building. Ian took a deep whiff, enjoying its perfume while trying to ignore its call. He scratched his dry skin. He would be there soon. Tonight, if all went well.

A light up ahead grabbed Ian's attention. It shone stronger than the others. The Artifact was there, he was sure of it. His footsteps quickened in anticipation.

When he broke free from the displays, he saw it. In the center of the room, it was the focal point of the area. Ian crossed to it.

It was a comfort to see the Artifact in such pristine condition. The beautiful outer case still smooth and glossy, the knotted wood giving it a unique pattern. Tiny precious jewels of various colors scattered across it, gleaming in the light and accenting the loops and swirls of the knots.

Ian's hands ached to hold it.

Enclosed in an acrylic case, a small door with a lock was on one side. It seemed simple. Unlock the case, take the treasure.

Somehow Ian knew it would not be.

They listened for a moment, ignoring building creaks and the ventilation system. They waited for the sounds of men. After finding none, they moved closer to the case.

A display sign outside the case declared the Artifact an example of old Greek woodwork, stating it was found along the shores of Europe. Ian ripped the sign from its stand, crushed it, and threw it at a nearby display of waterfowl.

He inserted his lock picks into the small bolt and fished around the tumbler, hoping to trigger them. Though the lock was small, it gave him trouble. His stomach tightened. Every second spent here was one too many.

Ian tried to pay no mind to the worry he was tripping a silent alarm and focus on his task. Time slowed, he was sure he felt each second tick away. He blew out a sigh with the feel of one click, then another as the lock gave way. The door popped open.

With awe, Ian reached in. For the first time in decades, he touched the ancient symbol of his people. He wanted to savor the moment but knew it impossible. They surely must have triggered an alarm by now.

As if on cue, the hard slap of leather against the linoleum floor confirmed Ian's worry. He sent a startled look to Blake, and reaching further into the case, wrapped his hand around the Artifact's end and pulled. It didn't budge.

Ian's heart slammed against his ribs as he tugged again with no success. The sound of rushing feet seemed to grow and echo around him.

He ran his hands along its sides and bottom. Why wouldn't it move? What held it in place? There is was. Small cables.

"They're coming," Blake hissed.

Ian waved a hand at him, indicating he wanted the cutters.

Blake dug around in this small bag and handed the tool to him.

One powerful squeeze for each cable and the box was free. Ian yanked the Artifact out of the case, holding it close to his body as he turned to flee. One glance over his shoulder to make sure Blake kept up, and he raced through the exhibits, back the way they'd come.

He clasped the box tighter as he heard the squeak of a security guard's shoes. It seemed he had halted and changed direction. Ian glanced at the door ahead. They were so close to success.

Blake and Ian flew past the glass doors, back down the shelf-lined hallway and out to the open shipping and receiving area. Behind them, a guard was calling for backup.

Blake peeked out the outer door to the parking lot and waved the all-clear. Almost blindly, the two ran out, straight for the stolen car as he chanted to Ian and himself, "Go, go, go, go!"

Sirens screamed in the background as they slammed the car doors. When Blake launched them down the hill toward the beach, Ian reminded him not to draw attention.

Ian's heart still knocked against his sternum as they made their way to the beach, but when he saw water, relief took the edge away. He smiled and barked out a sharp laugh.

Blake joined in, saying, "I have friends on the police force. This is going to be awkward for a while."

Ian sent him a sharp look and laughed harder. As the ocean came into view, and they crunched over the sandy road, Ian asked, "Will you be okay returning the car?"

"Yes. It's just a matter of parking it and walking to mine. I'll be fine. I'm not that decrepit, you know."

Ian nodded, a smile covering his face as they got out of the vehicle and walked closer to the water. The stiff sea breeze pushed at them as they turned to each other. "Our people will rejoice," Ian said. "They have waited so long for this day."

Blake nodded. "I only hope this will go far in forgiving me for taking it in the first place."

"I will do what I can for you," Ian said.

He smiled. "You're a dear friend even after what I did, and I'm thankful for… for everything.”

The men raised their arms, clasping forearms before falling into a hug. Then Ian stepped back, and after stripping off his excess clothing, waded into the ocean. He closed his eyes, relishing the feel of its silky welcome.

Ian looked at his old friend once more. He turned his head toward Sonora's home as if he could see her, feeling his heart twinge as he did so. Then, clutching his treasure, he dove into the ocean and returned home.

Thirteen

The Box

Chapter Thirteen

Ian wanted to shout through the oceans his success. He chuckled. It would do little good until closer to the city. And now, he wanted to see the happiness spread across their faces. He would tell them in the council chamber. This was not the time to spill his news like a ten-year-old boy.

The thought made him think of childhood stories, and in particular, the one about humans so important to Atlantian culture.

He let it play through his mind, almost hearing his father's baritone. Ian grinned. The tale would have a different ending now.

On the day the Artifact was created, the sky was bright and sunny. White, puffy clouds lazily moved across a bright blue expanse. A soft wind stirred the tops of the trees as a father directed his two sons to a stand of giant, old timbers. The boys stood in awe at the base of the tallest one, shouting for it to be the one, but the father shook his head. He knew what he wanted.

He pulled the children to the side, to a tree long abandoned to rot though parts of it were still solid. If the tree had been human, it would have been considered ancient, wizened, even deformed. But this damaged tree would turn into a beauty beneath the father's caring hands.

Once the decision was made, the boys pulled out their small axes and bashed them against the tree. Once or twice, a small chunk of bark flew from the trunk, but they made little progress. They stopped and pouted. They wanted better tools, but the father reminded them they were doing this the old way. No modern tools allowed.

The boys tried again, succeeding in removing a bit more of the rough exterior. However, even at their young age, they knew if they continued as they were, it would take them days to complete the task. When their strong father offered them help, they wisely took it.

Once the boys settled a safe distance away, their father hefted his long-handled ax. He bounced it in his hand a few times, letting his large arm muscle dance with the weight of it. The boys laughed, as he had hoped they would, but they also dreamed of the day they would be as brawny as their father.

The man split through the bark with a few licks, and from there, it was just a matter of perseverance. He chopped at the wood with steady, solid strokes, chips flying around him. The boys watched in awe. There was no one stronger than their father.

When the tree fell, the three dragged it home. Some of it would go into the fire bin to keep the house warm when the winter winds blew, and some parts, the most special ones, would make a box.

Choosing a section filled with tight knots and whorls, the father ran a hand across it, anticipating his creation. It would be extraordinary, much better than he had even dreamed. The man instructed his sons as he built, letting them work the small hand saw, showing them how to find the beauty of the piece. He explained how to plane the wood and sand it until it felt like butter.

When it was done, the three stood back in wonder. Mother came out and exclaimed her excitement over what they had created. Nothing had ever looked so good. And she was right.

Once born, the box gleamed in the light, the intricate pattern something rarely seen. It was a treasure, and the family treated it as one. It proudly sat in the most important place in the house, the fire mantelpiece.

Time passed, and the boys grew into men. Father prematurely lost his brawny bulk, wasting away with some human sickness. When the time came, they picked out a different, larger box for their father. Remembering his fondness for woodworking, they looked for the most beautiful one, but nothing came close to that small box they made together on that bright sunny day.

When the brothers moved away, Mother insisted they take the box, telling them it was more theirs than hers. A piece of their father to carry with them. In the new home they shared, they gave it the only place of honor available. The top shelf of a bookcase.

Mostly it gathered dust, but from time to time, one of the boys would take it down and run their hands across the still gleaming surface. They would lift the top lid and look down into its empty interior, and they would turn it over and pop open the tiny hidden drawer their father added to the bottom. And they would remember the day they built the box. They would remember their dad.

One day as the box sat on its high perch, there was the sharp bang of the outside door and the angry shout of voices. The brothers were arguing, not the good-natured arguing they enjoyed, but something red and raw.

"What have you done?"

"I don't know! I didn't mean—"

"I'm glad Father died before he saw what you've become!"

A heavy silence filled the air, and one of the brothers picked up the box and threw it into a bag along with some other odd items. A map, a compass, a large book, a bit of food and water. On top of that, the boy-man crammed clothing. The items pressed hard against the top of the box.

The boy-man swung the pack onto his back. He looked at his brother with a mixture of shock, disgust, and sympathy. "I will try to fix this, though God knows how. But if I can't, this is on you. You and all your cohorts."

"Thank you, brother," the other one said through the cloth mask covering his face. He fell to the couch in grief and disgust for himself. Far greater than any his brother felt for him. He choked out, "I'm sorry" around his rough cough. But it didn't matter, his brother was already gone.

The box bounced along as the boy traveled, carrying it away. At one point, he pulled out the box and shoved vials filled with an unknown substance, and something small—small enough to fit into its secret drawer into it.

Sounds were odd. A wind sped by, a hum, the slap of water against a boat. From time to time, the brother would take the box out of the pack and hug it tight to himself as silent tears lined his face.

Once there was a shout of pain and a flash of light so brilliant it lit up the inside of the dark pack. Then it was quiet.

Eventually, the sound of a large boat slicing through the waves made its way through the dim interior of the bag and, finally, the feel of solid ground under the boy-man’s feet as it once again bounced against his back.

One day, after a loving pat, the box was thrust into the hands of a stranger. After showing the man, all the box's secrets, including the small secret drawer, the boy-man left.

The stranger held the box tight against his body as he turned from the brother, and when he arrived at his home, he put the box in a place of honor. The mantel above the fireplace.

Chaos began, unbelievable upheaval. The stranger grabbed the box off the mantel before it bounced to the floor and raced behind two young boys as they entered the sea.

Over time, the stranger built a home in the sea, and the box was once again given a place of honor. Glittering gems were added to its exterior, enhancing the beauty of the box. It was not worshiped, but it was revered. For its beauty, for the remainder of what it held. A remedy for all humankind.

For decades—centuries—it held a place of honor in a cave under the sea surrounded by a garden fit for a wonderland. A silent sentinel, a protector of the cure. It was given a name—Cilelaara, The Artifact.

One day, a rough hand grabbed it from its pedestal and ran. The box, once again, saw the bright blue sky before it spent years imprisoned in a gruesome laboratory. It was poked and prodded until almost all its secrets spilled onto a table in front of the evil men.

Secrets exposed, the box was cast aside. It was shelved in a dark, backroom until dust caked every part of it. Then the day came when someone took it off the shelf, swiped at the dust, and put it on display. First, at the city's Museum of History, then at Seaside's Marine Center. The box shone with joy, if not with purpose.

Now, once again it moved through the depths of the sea, back to the underwater city. It was returning home.

But what Ian wanted of it, what they all wanted, it would seem unable to fulfill.

Ian believed he triumphantly returned home with the vials, the elixir of life, but he was wrong. The box was empty. It had been empty for a long, long time.

Fourteen

Hope

Chapter Fourteen

Ian pushed the Molaairis, the water bike, faster than he ever had before as he hugged the Artifact close to his body. Its hard edges dug into his stomach, but he didn't care. Ian preferred the slight discomfort to the despair of never finding it. He was actually traveling home with both the Artifact and the answer about his murdered people. And it hadn't cost Ian nearly what he thought he would. Just the opposite, in fact. He had regained an old friendship and rekindled his lost romance.

His lips curved, and he threw his head back and laughed with joy. It was over. His mission was over after all these decades, and it was successful.

Ian zipped past a school of blue tuna, noticing some almost as long as him. The water-filtered sunlight glinted off their silver-sheened skin. It was good to be home. The water pressed against him like a lost friend. The small currents within the sea rippled against his skin like a caress. He was eager for his first glimpse of Atlantis. He left there a broken, angry man, and he returned to it a hopeful, optimistic one. His family would be pleased.

The ache returned the further he got from Sunny. It would remain until she was at his side again. But this time it was different. It wasn't as deep and black, and Ian could see its end. It need not have happened at all. Wouldn't have if Blake had not requested it.

Ian shook his head. He wasn't sure why he’d gone along with the old man’s request. Perhaps because he knew there might be a stir in Atlantis with the news and didn't want Sunny caught up in it. Or maybe he sensed that what Blake said was true.

Before Sunny had made her way back to her grandfather's house this afternoon, Blake had made sure Ian knew what was on his mind. He handed him a mug of coffee and changed the subject from the upcoming heist to Ian and Sunny's relationship.

"I have something to ask of you," Blake said as he sat stiffly in the chair opposite of Ian.

Ian raised an eyebrow and sipped at the bitter brew. He had never developed a taste for it.

"I assumed you want Sunny to leave with you when you go back tonight, but don't ask her. At least, not yet. She's not ready."

Ian was shocked at Blake's intrusion. "I know what she needs more than you, old man. It is the Atlantian way. Something you seem to have forgotten. You should not be acting as if you have a say between two Jata Ara."

Blake blinked and continued, "I know what she means to you, I really do. But I had a human wife, as well as an Atlantian one. It isn't the same. There's no connection there, not like there should be. Sunny's grandmother knew something wasn't right between us. We both mourned over what could've been. I may have lived here, but emotionally I often turned away from her. I don't want that for Sunny."

Ian sat up and stared at Blake. "She is starting to sense me. Sunny has Atlantian in her. There is more hope for a normal relationship than you had."

"Perhaps. Still, I ask you to think of Sunny, and what is good for her."

"I only ever think of my Jata Ara!" Ian stood and shook his head. “You would ask this of me? Knowing what kind of monster a life without your Intended made you?"

Blake winced, but said, "Go back to Atlantis and leave her. Leave her here with her family. I beg you."

"You do not mean for a little while. You mean forever!" Ian punched his finger at Blake. "I say again, you do not know what goes on with me and my Intended. It is not up to you to decide anything for us."

Blake bolted out of his chair. "You are right. But talking to you is the only resource I have. After all, she doesn't have a powerful clan behind her name as you do, only an infamously wicked grandfather!" He turned to the window, looking out over the ocean. His voice broke as he went on, "She is all I have left. I love all my family. They mean the oceans to me. But Sonora, she is special. Something about her reminds me of my carefree youth."

Ian scrubbed his hands against his face at seeing Blake's distress. He could hardly fault his friend for loving his granddaughter so deeply. Didn't he also feel she was special? Extraordinary even? "Blake, I will not break with her."

"No, not forever. Though, to be honest, I wish it could be so. Just give her more time. If you force her to return with you—"

"If I would force her, she would be in Atlantis still. Everything I do is for Sunny's welfare. I sense that she would willingly come with me. But I will admit her grief over leaving would be great. I will give her the time you ask, but I disagree with one thing. She and I need more time together to strengthen our bond, not more time apart." Ian returned to his seat. "I'll come back with an escort for you, depending on what the council decides. You can go back with them, and I will stay with Sunny until she wishes to go to Atlantis."

Blake agreed. "It's all I can ask."

Ian threw him a stern look. "Ask nothing else of me."

Blake nodded.

"You should know that I offered to live here with her. But she refused, saying she would go to Atlantis."

"I see. That was a great sacrifice you offered."

"I would gladly have done it. If she had refused me on every level, I would have found somewhere on land to live where I could sense her even if I never saw her face. To feel her presence would have been enough after those months of nothing."

Blake studied Ian. "Perhaps everything will be fine between Sunny and you."

"It will."

"Ian, I don't want anything about me to cause our people to have bad feelings for Sunny. Remind the council I was a different person. Someone with a shredded heart and out of my mind with grief and anger. Say whatever you need so that she will have a happy, joyful life—full of love. Let me at least give her that."

"I will make them understand— feel what you suffered. I will tell them you have been living out your life in peace."

Blake put a hand to Ian's shoulder. "If they decide a penance should be given, I will willingly give it."

Ian nodded. "These murders must be addressed. The humans cannot be allowed to continue or remain unpunished. I will need your help with that."

"Of course, whatever I can do."

It had been good for Ian and Blake to speak their thoughts. Blake seemed less hesitant about Sunny's move to Atlantis now.

Sunny. His heart. How hard it was to leave her behind, each mile seemed to hurt more. His fingers gripped the bike's steering device until his fingers pulsed with his slow heartbeat.

Why was courtship so hard for him? Most Atlantians fairly threw themselves into each other's arms, never to part again. Nice and simple. But not him. Not only had Ian worried for years he wouldn't find his Intended, but when he did, he had to fight Sunny and now her family for the right to be with her. He might be First Son of Jorah, eventual Head of the Council, a position offering privileges both now, and in the future, but sometimes he felt like some sort of bottom feeder.

Ian scoffed at himself. It was the pain of leaving her making him feel this way. Yes, this relationship had caused him much emotional distress, and with that, some genuine physical pain, but Sunny was worth anything he went through. The worsening pain would soon be over. As happy as he was to be bringing the Artifact home and to see his family, he would take no longer than necessary to get back to her.

Fifteen

Home

Chapter Fifteen

After arriving home, Ian immediately gathered his family together. He was in such a good mood, he even enjoyed Cascadia and Talise's company when his usual response was to jet away from them as fast as a shark from an unwanted pilot fish. Still, he smiled when his mother dragged his sisters into the kitchen to make a meal after his stomach growled loudly.

Ian and Jorah sat at the dining room table. The Artifact lay before them, the jewels in the woodgrain brightened by the light hanging above them.=.

Jorah ran his hand over the top of the box's smooth surface. "It looks just as it did the last time I saw it. At least the humans treated it well."

"It would seem so, Father. It was in a museum. I am sure that contributed to its safekeeping." Ian changed the subject. "Thank you for keeping my arrival with the Artifact secret tonight. There is no doubt our people will greatly rejoice over its return, as they should. But a quiet evening with all of you, celebrating the end of a long mission, is what I needed."

"Of course it is, my son," said Aleena as she breezed in carrying the first of the many dishes she and her daughters prepared. "Family is everything to Atlantians. It is only fitting our personal celebration come first. We rejoice not only over the Artifact but also our son's safe return."

Aleena placed the plate on the table and wrapped her arms around Ian. She looked down at him and pushed his hair back. "Now you can stay down here in the safe, warm waves, and out of that harsh poisonous sun. You know, your Aunt Coral was just telling me the sun kills people! Can you believe that? I am glad you can now stay out of its scorching rays." She pushed at his forehead. "I hope that is not a wrinkle I see forming there."

Ian scoffed and gently pushed her away. "Mother, stop. It would hardly be the case."

His parents laughed when he ran a hand over his forehead and pulled his hair back over it.

Once everyone loaded the table with colorful salads, steaming fish, and a dessert of strawberries, they sat down at the table. After thanking the Creator of All Things for the safe return of Ian and the bounty covering the table, the family began to eat.

After a bite of salad, Ian turned to the others. "Thank you, Mother and Sisters, for providing tonight's delicious meal. I will be sure to offer one in return tomorrow night."

"We prepared all of your favorites," Talise said. "So, you must do the same." She then proceeded to list her preferences, which included a problematic meal of pufferfish, scallops, and a salted cod needing soaked for one to three days before cooking.

Ian laughed. "Of course, those are your favorites. As you know, I can cook a perfect scallop, and if a pufferfish is available, that will also be on your plate. But your cod will have to be another day."

Cascadia leaned toward Ian. "And I want—"

He held up his hand. "It seems, sisters, that my hospitality will take more than one evening to repay. We will start with Talise, and Cascadia, you will be next."

After the young ladies eagerly nodded, Jorah said, "If you think those dishes are difficult, I am eager to tell you what I have chosen."

Ian groaned, which caused everyone at the table to erupt into laughter.

Brown eyes still shining, Cascadia set her elbows to the table and laid her chin on her hands. "Did you see her? Sunny?"

Aleena gasped. In an instant, everyone stilled until Jorah barked at his daughter, "Did I not say the subject was forbidden? Your brother has been through enough. There will be no mention of it—her!"

Cascadia dropped her hands to her lap and lowered her head. "I am sorry, Father."

"Don't pretend contriteness to me. We have spoiled the two of you overmuch." Jorah flashed a look at Aleena as her hand crept to smooth her daughter's hair.

Aleena jerked her hand back and sighed. "Yes, we have. You girls must do better by us."

After seeing his sisters suffering under the harsh glare of their father, Ian decided to put an end to their misery. Not that the two couldn't remind him of a couple of brazen eels at times, but somehow Talise had gotten pulled into the scolding, and she hadn't done anything—this time.

"It is fine. I did see her." Ian looked at each of them.

Aleena and Jorah held their breath, and Cascadia and Talise both held their hands to their mouths in excited anticipation. It all seemed horribly romantic to them, and to all of their friends with whom, Ian knew, they discussed every detail.

"We talked. We laughed. We danced." Ian's words were cut short by his sisters' loud excited gasp. He chuckled and said, "Yes, it sort of felt like that."

Unable to hold back his excited news, Ian said, "She had decided she wants—to use a human word—date." At his family's puzzled looks, he continued, "It is when a couple gets to know each other on a deeper level."

Still confused, Jorah looked Ian over and said, "Well, you are happy, so it seems to be a good thing."

"How odd!" Talise said just before the girls fell into a massive giggle.

Aleena lightly slapped the table. "See," she said. "I told you just to keep her here."

Ian scoffed, "No, Mother, I believe you told me to take her back before it was too late."

"Oh, did I? I think I meant for you to keep her. If that is what you truly wanted."

Ian couldn't help his laughter. "Really? We must do better by the humans."

"I know, dear," Aleena said, "They cannot help what they are, poor things."

"No! No," Ian said. "That is precisely what I am talking about. They are not ours to decide if they come or go. And they are not lesser."

Ian's mother huffed, "They are! Everyone knows that."

"No. They are different, not lesser. Mother, you must see it."

"What I see, son, is the garbage floating through our waves, our gardens, our homes from a people who are voluntarily ignorant to what is happening to the very world they live in."

Aleena's eyes hardened. "What I see is the weeping Atlantian mothers as their children's bodies drift home to them in pieces. I see an uncaring, gluttonous people unwilling to show an ounce of the humanity they call their own. As a people, are they lesser? Yes. They indeed have less strength, resilience, and length of life, but that is not of what I speak."

Her hands gripped the edge of the table. "As a people, they are heartless and brutal. They are destroyers of worlds. And you don't need to look at their cruelty to us to see that, you can simply look at what they have done to one another."

Ian bowed his head. What his mother said was right, many humans were like that, but not all. However, she would feel this way until she met humans who were not selfish and greedy.

"If you cannot take them as a whole, then think of just her," Ian asked. "How would you feel, Mother, to go to land and reveal yourself as an Atlantian? How would the judgment feel? Sunny will live here, and she cannot hide herself. Everywhere she goes, everyone will know her for what she is and judge. I need to be able to reassure her that my people will embrace her as one of their own. That you will show her a mother's love."

The fervor in Aleena's eyes faded. She reached across the table, took Ian's large hand in hers. "I will remember my love for you and extended it to the small human girl. I will give your Jata Ara the love and care she needs, as I do all my children. It is the Atlantian way."

"Thank you, Mother. Others will follow your lead."

Ian gave his family a smile, even as he felt a stone weighing his stomach. He may have won this, but how would they accept the news she had the stain of being Argos' granddaughter? And would the fact she was of mixed heritage aid his people to welcome her or make it harder for them to accept her?

Sixteen

Debate

Chapter Sixteen

As Ian walked into the meeting chamber with his father, his chest swelled with pride. Today, he would stand at his father's side during the council meeting as he announced the return of the Artifact. His eyes brightened as he imagined the great rejoicing that would occur.

Ian received a few side glances from the council members as they shook each other's hands and said their hellos. He casually smiled and greeted the others, but he understood the question in their eyes. Only when testimony was given did someone other than an elected member enter the meeting hall. Ian almost burst with the news each time he caught a questioning look.

As Jorah and the other members took their seats, Ian looked around the spacious room. To the left of where he stood, floor to ceiling embroidered wall tapestries hung on the high walls between four large windows looking over the city. Created through the decades, the tapestries told the tales of their people. Ian remembered the solemn and joyful lessons he learned when he was brought here as a child, both with his parents and his teachers.

Ian stood tall behind his father's chair, straightening his shoulders as his father called the meeting to order.

"Fellow council members," Jorah said as he looked over the men and women who sat around the ancient oval table, "Today is an auspicious day. Today, my son has brought home the Artifact."

The council eagerly watched as Ian pulled the covered box from its hiding place under the table. Gasps erupted when he sat it on the table and removed the cloth.

The unique box blazed with color as if it, too, was delighted to be home. Each jewel lit from within, throwing bits of color onto the golden swirls of the beautiful antique.

Even the gruffest of men dabbed at tears over the sight of their treasure back where it belonged.

Loud applause broke out, and one after another, the council stood in respect for Ian and what he had accomplished. The compliments swirled around him.

"Surely, this great day is due to you, Ian!"

"It is home, the Artifact is home, because of your hard work."

"I knew you could do it, boy!"

When they became silent, Ian gave them all a slight bow. "It was for the honor of my people I hunted it. It was for love of them I continued when all hope was lost. And it is for their heart's ease that I return with it in hand."

After another round of applause, Tiburon of the Great White Clan shouted gruffly, "Have you checked it for the cure yet?"

"No," Jorah said. "I thought it more fitting to do that here, with all of you. But the Artifact is, as you can see, in excellent condition."

Carefully, Jorah picked up the box and turned it over. Everyone became still and quiet. He glanced at the room with a nervous smile, then slid open the secret compartment.

His face drained of color.

Ian stepped to his father's side. Jorah put his fingers to the black lining and threw Ian a stunned look when there was only dark silkiness.

Jorah lifted his wide eyes to the rest of the table as he shook his head.

Ian couldn't look away from the empty case, his body numbing at the sight. How could this be? All the work, all the years, only to find it empty? As grateful as everyone was to have the Artifact back where it belonged, the most important part was still missing!

How would they fulfill their duty and save the humans now? What if the illness came, and Sunny was swept away with all the others? She would need to come to Atlantis now. There would be no other choice. Her life was at stake.

Ian scanned the stunned crowd. Would he be given the chance to bring her? He'd hoped his retrieval of the Artifact would smooth the way for his beloved. There was much for the council and Atlantians, in general, to overcome for Sunny to be welcomed in the manner Ian wished.

She was mostly human, but that didn't worry him as much as the fact she was the granddaughter of the dreaded Argos. While the council would soon know he was innocent of the Atlantian murders, he was guilty of other crimes. The stain would lay on Blake for all his life, and a part of it would shadow her. Ian's stomach weighed with worry.

A roar came from the end of the table. "They have stolen it! The humans have stolen the very thing that will keep them alive!"

Voices layered over each other, arguments ranging from trying to find some way to help the human to letting the disease have its way. Ian ran a hand over his face. One would never guess from the fellowship outside of this room, there was so much discord in the council chamber. What would that mean for Sunny?

Mako of Cirrina Clan stood, her eel-thin body at attention. Though smaller than the rest of them, she commanded their respect. She raised her hands to quiet them, and when she bowed her head in thanks to their obedience, her dark, thick hair shimmered almost blue in the light as it fell straight to her waist.

"My medical team," she said, "has been working for many years on various means of dispersing the cure once it was obtained. We are ready. To debate this is unproductive. It was agreed centuries ago what we will do, and we are not a people to lose our integrity by not keeping our pledge. We merely need to find the cure, and this can be done."

She sat. The room was silent. No one could argue with her logic, what was vowed was vowed. There was nothing else to say.

"So," Mako said, spreading her hands wide. "Who will go?"

The council looked at each other as Jorah lowered his head to his hand and closed his eyes.

Ian felt like he did the first time he had stood before the council. Young and innocent, asked to be one of the Artifact's trackers with no clue where to begin.

His mind swirled. Go again? It was a miracle he had returned alive as it was. Each visit increased his chances of being caught. Still, his honor was at stake. His mission was still not complete, more than that his beloved's life was in danger. And perhaps this was the way he could smooth things for her among his people.

Ian stepped closer to the table.

Jorah held a hand to him and murmured, “No, Caspian. Not again.”

Ian whispered, “I’m sorry, Father. There is no choice.”

He squared his shoulders. “I will," he cleared his throat and straightened. "I will go and search for the cure."

Mako waved a hand at him. "Your bravery is impressive, but you have done your part. It is time for you to rest."

Jorah wiped at his eyes, his voice broke as he said, "I wholeheartedly agree with you, Mako, but Ian has contacts among the humans. If we send someone else up, it will take too long for them to develop new ones. Time is short."

The council members murmured, nodding their heads.

Tiburon put his hand to the table. "It seems, Caspian of Orca Clan," he said, using Ian's formal name. "You are the one to send. I am sorry that is the case both for you, and for the young men who wish to seek honor. But their time will come. I agree that now is the time for experience."

Ian nodded. "I willingly go and give my best effort, but with one request."

The council members quieted, a question in their eyes. It was not usual to set conditions.

Ian swallowed. "That my services be repaid, not with riches or honor, but with respect. I have a request, and I ask that it be granted at the proper time with willingness and consideration."

"And you will not tell us what it is?"

"No. I will only say there would be no harm to anyone if you grant it, but great harm to a few if you do not."

A few of the council members whispered among themselves. Ian heard Sunny's name and listened carefully. They remembered the small, pretty human girl, and his deep depression when he'd taken her back to land. Sure that this young woman had something to do with his request, they didn't feel anything he asked would be difficult for anyone. Though odd, if the boy felt he was paired with this little woman, it would be a small favor to support it if he returned with the cure.

The group nodded, and Tiburon said, "Looks like you have a deal, boy. Whatever you ask of us, we will give." He chuckled. "Keep it honorable."

Ian stammered, "Of course, I will."

"Then, you have our blessing, both for your new mission and that pretty little human you have your eye on."

Ian blushed but gathered himself enough to insist. "And I want her treated as a full Atlantian."

"We will treat her like a queen just for your effort in the saving of our honor in this matter of helping the humans." Tiburon smirked as he continued teasing Ian. "I am sure she will treat you like a king if you manage to succeed."

Ian turned a deeper shade of red as the table erupted into laughter. For ocean's sake, he was eighty-five years old, and he blushed like a mere child of twenty-eight! He stretched taller and said, "Thank you, Council of Atlantis, for your faith in me."

Mako removed the hand that hid her giggles and became earnest. "No. It is this council, and all Atlantian councils, that should thank you. It is your willingness to offer yourself for this mission that enables us to keep our oath. You must forgive us our teasing. We have all been young and in the early blushes of love. It is a pleasing time of life."

Her dark eyes reassured Ian. "We will take care of your little love, just as you take care of us. It is a small, though unusual, thing to ask of us compared to what we ask of you." Mako tipped her head. "It has piqued my interest as a scientist, and I will have many questions on your return."

Her voice sobered. "For now, do what you can to find the cure, but do not die for it. If the time comes when you have done all you can do, bring your woman here and enjoy the happy life you are meant to live."

Ian bowed in appreciation and looked at Jorah. His father nodded.

There was still more to discuss.

Seventeen

Justice

Chapter Seventeen

Jorah eyed his fellow council members. "There is more."

A few groans erupted, but all turned to him with attentive looks.

"Ian has found Argos."

Excited conversations broke out. "Finally, justice will be done," Mako said.

Jorah rapped his knuckles against the table. "My son has learned that it was not Argos who has committed murder against our people. It is a human scientist, a group of them who perform gruesome experiments on Atlantians. The group held Argos hostage, tortured him."

A shiver ran through Ian, and when the outraged cries started, he understood why. They were not only for Argos, but for all who had suffered.

"And these are the people we try to save?" a councilmember at the end of the table despaired. "How is it honorable to help them at all?"

Ian quietly asked Jorah's permission to speak. After Jorah nodded his approval, Ian stepped forward and said, "Most Atlantians have spent some time on land for short periods, usually for education or leisure. I have had the unusual opportunity to spend months, even years, among humans. I know them well."

He sighed. "Yes, there are those such as this evil group who, if they fell dying and weeping into the sea, I would watch from a distance with no pity. But there are others. They are good, and kind, and more like us than anyone here would like to admit."

Ian held up a hand to the scoffs and continued, "I am convinced that it is these who we were asked to save. The one who asked came from the land, from this time, and he was good. Without him, we would not have lived. He saved Atlantians, and he would know of other good people too."

Jorah agreed, "That is true. Many are the stories of the goodness of the Traveler, not the least are the ones, including our own people. He would not have sworn us to save a wicked people."

Ian put a hand on his father's shoulder and said, "The good ones are being swallowed up by the bad. We can show them what life can be like. Should be like."

Mako spoke up, "Of course. Of course. We have discussed this already. We save the humans, if at all possible. The real question is this; what will we do with Argos? He may not have murdered us, but he still stole from his people and murdered humans."

Tiburon smacked his hand to the table. "I refuse to punish him for human deaths. He killed the ones who tortured and murdered his Intended. Watching her die like that is more punishment than any man deserves. If the humans have a problem with him, they can take care of him themselves.”

Jorah watched most at the table verbally agree. When a show of hands was called for, all hands raised except for two of the council. They were undecided but willing to go the way of the other votes.

Ian breathed sigh of relief but tensed again as Jorah continued, "Argos is an old friend of my son. His Atlantian family, who have already suffered overmuch branded relatives of a traitor, are friend to many who sit around this table. Argos is now old and gray, and perhaps that is punishment enough for what he has done."

Dissenting voices rose and fell away. Akami from Mysticeti Clan stood. "If this were any other theft, we could impose the usual punishment, take ten percent of his possessions, and mandate him ten extra hours a week of work for a year. But it is not. He is no longer in Atlantis, so the punishment cannot apply. In addition, this was not some shiny bauble he carelessly took from a neighbor. This is our treasure. He understood the value to us and to the fate of the world. Yet still, he took it, not as a careless act but a deliberate one. In my opinion, a recompense needs to be paid."

"He was young," Jorah argued. “Practically a child."

"He had taken on the role of husband and with it the responsibilities of a grown man,” said a concilmember at the end of the table. “Clearly, he was not ready. Let it be a lesson to all the youth. Wrong actions can follow a person through their entire life."

"If I may speak again," Ian said. "On Argos' behalf. He is expecting punishment and willing to come back to Atlantis to accept it. He was a broken man when he committed this crime, in a way, few of us will ever be. It is hard enough for our ancient ones to lose their loves. They have a long lifetime of remembrances to look back on, and they usually follow their Jata Ara’s within a short time."

Ian's face twisted as he remembered the insistent, raw pain when he lost Sunny. "When your mate is lost… it is… it is so horrible, I cannot put it into words."

Many in the council looked away, unable to look upon the pain still residing on Ian's face.

"He has accepted what he cannot change and is a different man now," Ian said. "He has learned to take comfort in other things. Please, I ask you, do not be so very hard on him."

Akami shook his head and sighed, but softly said, "That is two things you ask of this council today, Caspian. But given the circumstances, I, for one, will allow it." He pulled at his chin in thought. "There must be punishment. Perhaps we banish him for the rest of his life. It would not be so bad for a man who has already chosen land. If he is already old, life is almost over for him. He must have a well-established life on land by now, and little desire to come back here."

"But what if we cannot save the humans?" Mako said. "Would we expect him to live on the empty land, alone? That is too harsh."

"I will find the cure," Ian said.

Mako took in his certainty, clearly not so sure herself. "I hope that is true, but there is no guarantee."

"If the worst happens," Akami said, "we will offer him a home in Atlantis. I would offer the following restrictions for the council to consider. Argos will be stripped of his name and clan. His time will be spent for the betterment of this city. He will be given a comfortable home and his necessities, but he can never accumulate wealth. There is little chance to have gathered much anyway. These restrictions still grant him the ability to live out his life in peace."

Ian winced at the recommendations. Not the loss of the name Argos, that would bother no one as the label was tainted long ago. His work for the city was merely an extension of what each citizen already did.

But to have no clan was to have no protection in times of need. If Blake had none, neither would his family, even if the Atlantians accepted them in time. Sunny would be clanless until they married, a sorry state to be in.

Once married, she could call on Orca Clan, but that was far less than the protection of the four grandparent's clan an Atlantian woman customarily received. And the rest of Sunny's family would be like driftwood, untethered and wandering, among the people.

Of course, if he succeeded, her family would stay on land and never understand their situation. And if he didn't?

Ian opened his mouth to speak in defense of Blake's family but clamped it shut. He needed the council's first promise to accept Sonora, or they would be in far worse trouble. Now was not the time to inform them that his love was Argos' granddaughter. That could wait until after his successful mission. He would argue for the family later. For now, this was a better outcome than Blake could have hoped for.

Eighteen

Trouble

Chapter Eighteen

After the council meeting, Ian's mother was in tears while his father unsuccessfully tried to hide his long face. Even his sisters cried at his side.

"You have barely arrived home," Aleena groaned as she hugged her son. "How can you be leaving already?"

Ian smiled at her. "I will complete this mission and be home so quickly you will not even notice my absence."

"I recall something similar said at the start of the hunt for Argos, and that took decades," Aleena sniffed and wiped her eyes.

Jorah patted his wife. "It will not be that long, my love. It can't be. Surely the time is soon coming when the cure will need to be used."

Aleena gave Ian one more hug, then stood straight. "Come along, my daughters," she said as she pulled them from Ian's side. "We cannot be so selfish as to wish our happiness over the lives of others. Ian will be back soon and bring his little bride with him."

"I hope so, Mother," Ian said. "There is still some discussion—"

Aleena stepped to Ian and fussed with his clothing. "She will come. How can she turn such a wonderful man down?" She gave Ian a watery smile. "Go on now before I fall apart again."

Later as Ian emerged from the water and walked through the shallows onto the beach, he couldn't say he was disappointed to be back. He was closer to Sonora, and that was always a good thing.

His physical pain eased the closer he got to her. He smiled as he caught the stare of an awestruck little boy who watched his arrival. He tousled the child's hair as he passed by him.

Ian swung his head from side to side to shake the excess water from his dark hair. He started through the parking lot on bare feet to his car, which he had hidden in the nearby park. Inside the vehicle, he had a set of clothes and shoes.

After picking up food, Ian pulled in the drive of his second house, purchased at the start of his mission. A typical seaside condo sitting among a group of vacation rentals, he enjoyed its colorful appearance. After parking his car in the garage, Ian hauled in his groceries while chewing on a piece of roast chicken. As he passed the mail slot on the front door, he kicked the bills and advertisements piled on the floor.

Ian sat the groceries on the countertop and went back to the pile. Picking it up off the tan colored tile, Ian leafed through it. He needed to pay his electric bill. It was past due. The rest was junk. Ian grunted his irritation. It never ceased to amaze him how much unnecessary paper he received when he didn't even really exist in this world.

A low, indistinct sound came from further inside the house. Ian stilled and listened. A car roared by, and the shrieks of children resonated around the neighborhood, but that wasn't what he'd heard. It was more like the light scuff of a shoe or the slight squeak of a door.

Like someone was in the house.

Ian rose and quietly laid the mail on the table as he passed it on his way to the knife drawer. He wrapped his hand around the largest one, tipping a bag of groceries on the counter to cover the noise as he pulled it from its place.

He eyed the front door, walking toward it as lightly as possible. He would leave, disappear in town, and find out who this was later.

Ian made it to the small entry and reached for the door. He eyed the open archways on either side of him, thankful a wall was at his back.

That feeling was short-lived when something brushed against the wall behind him. He swung around as a shiver ran down his spine, only to find it empty.

The other side of the wall then. Ian's heart pounded. A few steps were all that separated them and him. Ian whirled toward the front door and flipped the locks as fast as he could.

The snick of the locks echoed through the house. Footsteps pounded toward Ian as he yanked the door open. A hand shot out behind him, banging the door shut. Another slammed against the side of his head. Two against one.

Ian swung around, eyeing the attackers. Though not as tall, they were every bit as massive as he was, as if handpicked for the job. His heart sank.

Maneuvering in the small entry, Ian pushed himself against the door, his grip tightened on the knife in his hand. Ian raised it, swinging at the men. They widened the gap between him and them. Ian launched himself off the door, pushing the men back with a swipe of his knife. Both jumped further back.

For a moment, there was a standstill, and Ian recognized these men as the ones who chased him at the wedding. He'd had no idea they were still on his trail.

He had to get out of here, or he'd end up like the others. Just pieces in the sea. As he held the men at bay, Ian looked for his opportunity to escape.

The door behind Ian swung open, knocking him forward toward the first two men. Two more men entered. Something pushed against Ian's arm.

Burning electricity shuddered through him. He groaned but managed to keep on his feet.

The knife clattered to the floor. One of the men kicked it toward the kitchen, where it skittered across the floor and bumped into a cabinet kickboard. And two more men appeared.

Four brawny men surrounded him. Ian's odds were diminishing by the second. Ian threw an elbow into the face of the man behind him and heard a crunch. The assailant yelled and grabbed his bloody nose.

Ian tightened his fist and punched the man in front of him. His head twisted sharply, and he went down with a sigh.

Ian grunted as one of the other two struck a massive blow to his kidney. He twisted and swung at the man, but he jumped away.

The squawk of a walkie, and someone's nasally voice ordering more men, caught Ian's attention even as he struggled. How long before they showed up? It couldn't be more than a few minutes, maybe even seconds.

Ian rushed past one man into the kitchen and toward the large window beside his table. He picked up a kitchen chair and beat against the glass.

A crack. A small one. One more and he'd be out. He ignored the fists pummeling his kidneys but yelled when a gun smacked against his head. Brain spinning, Ian swung the chair again.

One of the men said, "Put that gun away! You know what the boss said."

The window shattered, and Ian raced for it. Outside, three men materialized. Climbing through the window, they pushed him back toward the two attackers behind him.

Ian turned and fought with everything he had, but for every man he put on the floor, another would step in to take his place. Soon, it was clear they played with him. They were sure they would win.

Ian knew it was over long before he gave up. But he didn't stop, couldn't stop. If these men were who he thought they were, this would be his last free breath of air, his last ray of sun, his last sweet smell of the salty sea. He could only hope he would still feel Sunny, that might make whatever they had in store bearable.

Sweat and blood ran down Ian's body by the time his attackers finally drove him face down onto the floor. He gasped. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it thundered on the tile below him.

One man set a hard knee to the middle of his back, practically climbing on him as another bound his wrists so tight that in seconds, his hands were numb. Any movement earned Ian a shock from the taser, and soon it no longer took any prompting.

"You see Jack over there? Look at the mess you made of his face."

A burn ran down Ian's side, stunning him as they laughed.

"Look at Brian. He still hasn't woken up."

Another shudder of pain. Ian squeezed his eyes shut.

There was a scurry, and one of them said, "Hey, knock it off. He's coming!"

Dress shoes tapped across the tiled floor. Someone started a slow clap in mock congratulations. Ian tried to twist up to see who it was, but his reward was a punch in the face and another sharp knee in his back.

"You know you are quite the catch," the voice—a man’s floated above him. "And if I didn't know that before, I certainly do now."

The voice was irritatingly familiar to Ian. He couldn't quite place it. He tried to look again but stopped when a third man put a knee to his neck.

"Now, now, be careful with him!" the man scolded. "I don't want him harmed. Well yet, anyway, and certainly not by anyone but me."

The knee on Ian's neck eased.

The voice ordered, "Bring him up."

It took five men to haul the fighting Ian to his feet.

"There you go, now is that better?"

That voice. Ian spat the blood gathering in his mouth onto the floor and raised his head.

Shock bolted him to the floor as fingers of ice worked their way through him.

Ian had seen this man once, on the porch of Sonora's house. Blake called him son-in-law. He was Sunny's uncle.

Ian's shock caused the man to laugh. Not a small amused laugh, an uncontrolled belly laugh.

"My, my, I enjoyed that reaction. Surprised, are you?" Devon said. Ian lunged at the man, almost breaking the hold of the ones restraining him.

Devon scowled. "There will be none of that. You know what I can do. What I can do to her, anytime I want. Who would stop me? Who would even know?" His eyes narrowed as he walked toward Ian. "If you try to get away, I will go and get her. And I will put her in your place. Is that what you want?"

Ian glared at him.

Devon roared at Ian, "Is that what you want?"

"No."

Returning to his normal voice, Devon said, "Of course, you don't. She's special, isn't she? Isn't it your sworn duty to give your life for her? Stupid suckers. Well, guess what, that is what you will do. I'm an avid student of your race. I learn from you every day." The man grabbed Ian's hair pulling his head back. "Unfortunately for you, I have a lot to learn."

A stone settled in Ian's stomach as the coldness at his core grew, but he managed to growl out, "You will get caught. Your family will find out."

The man let go of Ian's hair. "You better hope not. I will kill them all. It would be so easy to do it. Nothing to it at all." Devon snapped his fingers with the words, then turned and walked back down the hallway and to the door.

"Oh, and before you start having harsh feelings. The old man doesn't know I've watched him and his family for years."

Devon waited until his men muzzled Ian like an animal. A satisfied look rolled over his face as they dragged a struggling Ian inch by inch through the front yard to a waiting dark blue van.

Bright-eyed neighbors watched. Ian tried to speak, but it was impossible. His attackers flashed fake badges at them, saying Ian was dangerous, and the neighborhood was lucky they'd found him.

The crash of the ocean waves sung to Ian until the van doors thudded shut. He slumped to the floor, wondering if he would ever hear it again.

Nineteen

Jorah

Chapter Nineteen

Sonora sat on the front porch of her house, watching the ocean roll in and out on the small beach across the road. She laid her head back against the blue Adirondack chair and twisted in her seat. She was restless, her dreams full of him. It been that way almost since he'd left.

It'd been a month since she said goodbye to Ian. When he said he wouldn't be gone long, Sonora had imagined a few days at best. But she guessed if a person was eighty-five and going to live hundreds of years, their definition of long could be a little different.

More and more, Sonora found herself along the ocean's edge, hoping to catch sight of him rising from the waves. Or trying to send out vibes that she was here, waiting for him. But no matter how many times she stood in the warm tide, he didn't come.

Blake rounded the house and smiled at Sonora. "How are you doing, honey?"

Sonora shrugged and tipped her head to the ocean. "It's been so long. Do you think they are still debating everything? Does it take this long?"

"Their discussions can be rather heated, I've heard."

"Surely, everything will be okay, Grandpa?"

"I'm sure it will. They are kind people at heart."

"Yes, you are, Grandpa."

Blake smiled. "I don't often think of myself as Atlantian anymore. It's nice you do." He climbed the stairs to pat Sonora's shoulder. "I know you're worried, he probably just needs a little more time."

Sonora glanced at her grandfather. His words sounded hollow, and she suspected he was every bit as worried as her.

As Blake wandered away, Sonora's mind turned to memories. The wedding, how handsome he'd been, his strong arms around her, and that first real connection with him as he dove into the sea. It was strange, but since he'd been gone, she'd often felt he was just around the corner. Not really the same, but it sometimes tugged at her.

Maybe Ian went home and changed his mind. Doubts flooded her. Would she be Atlantian enough for him? Would her attachment ever be as strong as his?

Sonora pushed away her uncertainty. Ian had told her how he'd felt without her. She knew how empty she felt now without him. They needed each other. She brushed at the tear sliding down her cheek.

Two weeks later, Sonora pulled in her driveway after work and saw her grandfather frantically waving at her. Sonora sighed. It was sweltering even this late at night. All she wanted was a refreshing shower and to fall sleep on her soft, cool sheets.

"Grandpa," she called out as she stepped out of the car. "Can I come over in the morning?"

"No!" he hissed. "Come over here!"

Sonora dragged her feet as she walked. "Grandpa, it’s late, and I'm way too tired to help you with your computer tonight."

When she reached his back door, Blake swung it wide and put a hand on her back, practically shoving her inside.

"Grandpa!" Sonora scolded him as she tripped over the threshold. He didn't reply, instead looking to the right then left before he joined her inside the house and hurriedly shut the door.

"Grandpa, you are being really weird today!"

Blake's only response was to take Sonora's arm and pull her to the living room.

She was in the middle of protesting when she saw her grandfather had company. And it wasn't just any company.

Jorah sat on the living room couch, flanked by two large Atlantians. Sonora's stomach dropped, and she turned wide eyes to her grandfather.

"Come have a seat, dear," he said with a nervous quiver in his voice.

Instead, she walked to Jorah. "Tell me he is okay. I can take whatever I have to, please just tell me he is safe."

Jorah stood and put a hand on her arm. "I'm sorry, little guppy, I wish I could do so."

Sonora drew back, tears gathering in her eyes. "Tell me!"

"He left weeks ago," Jorah said, tears flooding his eyes. "We wondered why he lingered here. I sensed trouble from the minute my foot stepped on land, but I cannot find him. It has been some time since I have been above the water. I have asked Arg—Blake to be my guide. I am grateful he has accepted the mission."

Blake cleared his throat. "It is I who am honored, Jorah. As you know, Ian means a lot to me and my granddaughter. I will do everything I can to help."

The stone in Sonora's stomach grew, and she wrapped her hands around her middle. "What could have happened to him?"

"We will find out, Sunny."

"He is alive," Jorah said.

Sonora turned to him. "How do you know?"

"I am his parent. I would know if he was not. But something is wrong, I have been restless."

Sonora gasped. "Me too! I didn't know it meant anything. I thought it was just me."

Blake smoothed Sonora's hair. "We were just going to head over to his place now. Do you want to come? You may be helpful."

"His place? He has a house here?"

"He has a home for when he was..." Jorah trailed off.

"I know," Sonora said. "For when he was hunting Grandpa." Shoving down her worry, she rose and secured her purse on her shoulder. "Come on. Let's go."

Twenty

Reaching

Chapter Twenty

Ian put his hand on one of the smooth, cool steel bars and watched from his cage as Devon moved around the laboratory. It was hard to keep his eyes open. The moment those goons had gotten him in that dark-blue van, they had drugged him. It hadn't stopped since.

He narrowed his eyes as he threw another glance at Devon. The evil man would be leaving soon. His damage was done for the day. Ian looked down at the white gauze patch covering his chest just left of his sternum. He wasn't sure what had been tested today. If something came out or went in. Needles, his heart shuddering, and intense pain. That is what he knew.

He tried to settle against the thick bars boring into his back and running underneath him, but it was impossible. There was no comfort to be had in this too-small box. He took a ragged breath, letting the drug's lethargy wash over him, at least for a little while. Soon everyone would be gone, and he would have the night in peace.

It was at night that Ian reached out to Sunny, feeling her warmth cocoon him. Carefully though, he didn't want her to sense his distress. Recently, he'd felt his father and took strength from him as he whined like a lost puppy for Jorah to come and find him. It was all Ian had now. Every bit of fight was drugged and beat and tested out of him.

At least, he was still in Seaside where he could sense his loved ones. Ian had known the murderer had to be in this little town, and there were only so many places such precise destruction to a body could be done. Two facilities were contained the medical equipment needed, here and the hospital. So, while Ian was appalled Sonora's uncle was the evil man he had been tracking, he was not surprised when the van had turned into the Marine Center's back entrance on that dark night weeks ago.

Ian’s gaze jerked back to Devon when he put his last instrument away with a clatter and sighed. It was Vincent's job to feed the lab animals, but he had left early today, which meant Devon would have to do the assistant's job. It was clearly not a job Devon liked. Ian scoffed. The risk of getting dirty was too high.

He made his way down the line of cages from small to large, carefully filling the animal's dishes. Most of the animals chirped and squawked as they scurried around in their cages, stirring up dust from their fresh bedding. The sharp wood scent wafted to Ian.

Devon slid the routine water bottle and protein bar with an orange wrapper through the top slats of Ian's cage. Vincent would have added a fresh piece of fruit out of pity, but there would be none of that tonight.

Ian's stomach growled as Devon proceeded on without a word. Ian hardly paid any attention. Hunger continually stalked him now. This bar and another in the morning was all he would get for the day.

Devon had explained why Ian needed so little food on his first day here as he had smoothly slid a needle into his arm. "There that didn't hurt a bit, did it? I don't want to tear up your arm this early in the game." Devon patted Ian on the shoulder as he tried to twist away.

"This." Devon tapped an IV bag. "Is how you will get most of your nutrients from now until you die. I wish I could eliminate any food, but it is not practical. So, you will receive a small amount in the morning and at night. Cooperate, and you may receive a treat."

Ian had never received a treat, only more drugs.

He shifted again against the hard bars as he clutched the water and food. Devon stood at the door, his hand on the light switch, staring at him. Ian's heart jumped.

Devon's leather soles tapped against the tile floor as he briskly marched back to Ian's jail. Ian's hand tightened on the bottle causing it to crackle as Devon crouched to his level. As Devon examined him, his heart raced. No. No. Not more.

"Do not," Devon said. "Do not make me regret skipping an extra nighttime dose of medicine. Do you understand? If you do, I will make sure you stay the quivering mass of nothing you were when I first brought you here."

Ian tried to obey, but something inside him raged, not unlike the animals beside him. Not tonight. He would do nothing tonight. He glanced up at Devon and returned his gaze to the floor. He nodded.

"Say it."

In a rusty voice, Ian said, "I will not cause you regret."

Devon gave a sharp nod, stood, and walked out the door, snapping off the light as he did so.

It was not regret he would cause Devon when the time came. Ian flashed a defiant look at the scientist's back before he could stop himself. It would show up on the tapes, and he would pay for that weak spark tomorrow. His head dropped.

He shuddered so strongly it rattled his cage and caused the chimp next to him to screech. In the beginning, there were days Ian had no control of himself. That time was a swirl of drugs and pain.

"It is necessary to get your kind under control," Devon had told him. "The sooner you submit, the sooner it will be over. We can't start the real work until you are quiet."

In Ian's more lucid moments, he exploded. "I will never!" he screamed as he strained at the straps tying him to the bed.

But he did. No one else had survived this evil man, so how could he?

Devon's hand taking care of his every need had sickened him to the point Ian would do anything to get back some control of himself. Even if that meant losing control of something else. The end of one pain had been the beginning of another.

The experiments.

Ian wound himself into a ball, imagining Sunny stroking his hair and laying small kisses on his forehead. It was late. She would be home from work now and sleeping. It was safe to reach out to her.

Sonora sat in the backseat of her grandfather's car squished between the two large Atlantians. Something stirred, similar to an insect buzzing around her head. She swatted at it, earning strange looks from the two brawny men.

Now, one of her arms was lying awkwardly on top of one Atlantian's, while the other was smashed behind the other man's. She frowned at them.

One scowled back. Sonora's heart jumped, and she ducked her head. The men chuckled but shifted to give her as much room as possible in the small car.

"Finally," Sonora muttered as she examined them under her eyelashes, wondering if they ate as much as Ian.

"Here," Blake said, pointing to a house. "This is the address."

When the car stopped, everyone burst from the vehicle. Once the Atlantian guards got in, Sonora entered the house slowly. It felt as if she were getting another glimpse of Ian. His home in Atlantis was elegant, an old world chockfull of exciting little tidbits that offered story after story. This one was sparsely furnished, understandable since this wasn't a real home. But what he had was bright and beachy.

Sonora scanned the room. Ian was every bit as neat here as he was in Atlantis. Her examination stopped when she saw a framed picture of herself exiting the coffee shop. Oh lord, stalker picture much, Ian? She giggled. He needed a real picture for that frame.

Jorah came up beside her. He looked at the picture and smiled. "He loves you so."

Sonora returned his grin. Clearly, Jorah was where Ian had gotten his romantic side. She wondered if Jorah had any stalker pictures of Aleena.

Someone called out in Atlantian, and Sonora followed Jorah into the kitchen. Her heart froze. Chairs were overturned, a knife laid on the floor, and the window was broken.

Something caught Sonora's eye, and she reached down for it. A spent tranquilizer casing. She turned to Blake and Jorah and held out her hand. "Grandpa?"

Blake's face turned pale. "I only know of one group who wants us alive that badly."

Sonora's gaze went to her grandfather's chest. She remembered the scars below the shirt. Her knees weakened. No! Not Ian!

Blake quickly righted a chair for her as she clung to him. "We'll find him, honey."

Sonora trembled as her grandfather helped her into the chair. The buzzing started again, but she ignored it as she sobbed. All she could think of was him. A feeling came over her, as if a close friend or parent steps behind you, and somehow you know it's them.

In a second, her limp body straightened. "It's him! It's Ian!"

Jorah stepped closer to her. "Yes, dear, he is there."

"Can I talk to him somehow?"

"No, little guppy. But Ian can feel emotion. You can send him strength and love."

"Then let's find him!"

Jorah patted her shoulder. "That is what I am here for, but it is not as precise as that."

Sonora flapped her arms. "Then what good is it?"

Blake crouched to her and took her hand. "Sunny, we usually aren't in life or death situations."

"Yes. Yes, of course." Sonora put a hand to the side of her face. "Then what next? How can we find him?"

"Let's see what else is here. Perhaps Ian left something behind," Jorah said.

Sonora stood and yanked open a kitchen drawer. "I'll check these."

Just as she got to the last cupboard, Jorah yelled from the living room, "I found something."

Twenty-One

Disagreements

Chapter 21

Sonora rushed into the living room and found the men hovering around something. She pushed herself through them. Jorah had scattered the papers he'd found across a footstool. The writing was in Atlantian.

Sonora glanced at Ian's father, and he translated, "Ian has written about the possibility of a research lab inside the Marine Center? But he is unsure." Jorah looked up and squinted at her in thought. "What is the Marine Center?"

Sonora frowned in confusion. Why would the Marine Center be mentioned?

Blake grabbed her shoulder and said, "It is a local aquarium and museum. They also study marine animals." Blake shook his head. "But my son-in-law and daughter work there. They would've noticed anything strange."

Sonora agreed, "And I've been in there a million times, Jorah. I've never seen anything weird." She turned to Blake. "Is that where you were, Grandpa?"

"I don't think so, but I was still pretty drugged up when we left. After that, we were on the run for a while. Your grandmother picked this town to settle in."

"What should we do, Jorah?" Sonora said. "We have to hurry. I sense him slipping away from me!"

"He is simply pulling away, perhaps not to worry you," Jorah said. "I sense him still. Reach out the same way you did before."

"I can't. That was so desperate."

"And you are no longer desperate?"

At his soft reminder, tears welled in Sonora's eyes. She stretched out, pulling Ian back. Her forehead glazed with sweat. She glanced at Jorah and nodded. Was it as hard for a full Atlantian as it was for her?

Jorah picked up Ian's notes. "This is where we start."

Blake's brows drew together. "If it's there, it isn't in any part of the official building. If you want, I can go nose around. Sunny and I can get into some of the employee areas."

"No," Jorah said. "That won't be necessary."

"I disagree," Blake said as his eyes narrowed. "It would be the least disruptive, the best way to see if Ian's there."

Jorah stared at Blake. Sonora's gaze darted from Jorah to the guards, to her grandfather, and back to Jorah. Her grandfather had committed some sort of blunder.

"Pup!" Jorah scolded him. "You may look older than me, but you are hardly out of boyhood. It is not up to you to question one of the council."

Blake took a small step back and lowered his gaze. "Of course. I apologize. I only worry—"

Jorah's authoritative voice sounded throughout the room. Grandpa should've stopped already. "You should have worried long ago when you carried another name. Then I would not be standing here, and my son, your friend, would not be captured. These evil ones have no respect for our kind and what we are capable of. Do you think I will let them continue to abuse my son even one more hour if I can stop it? When I have them in my grasp?"

Blake reached out a hand. "Of course, we must get him out as soon as possible. But I know what one Atlantian can do, what I did in my prime. The effects of it still litter the history books. We must be careful. There are good people here too."

Sonora tensed when she saw Jorah's jaw set. Her grandfather had pushed too far.

"Good people will not be harmed. But the evil will stop now," Jorah said, taking a firm step toward Blake. His eyes lit, and his guards stood at attention. "Make no mistake, Atlantis is rising. The world will see its full power."

Blake's jaw dropped. "But, that was never the plan, this—"

Jorah shook his head. "There is no longer a plan. The box is home, but the cure is not. There is only one way to save these vulnerable people you can about. Find the cure. We will come to land and take it."

Blake stepped back, staring at the floor and shaking his head.

Jorah put a hand to his shoulder. "I refuse to allow the death of any more of my men. It has to stop now."

Blake glanced toward Sonora, a question in his eyes. She shrugged. IF this is what it took to rescue Ian, let them come.

Blake shuddered but stood up for the humans he had come to know and love. "With respect, Jorah, I ask that you temper your actions. This work, these people, can be fragile."

"Consider this. If we do not come to land, we do not save the humans. Then they will not be fragile. They will be dead." Jorah waved a dismissive hand at Blake. "The decision has been made. My son and the cure. If we do not succeed, we sink back into the ocean and leave this world to its own destruction."

Blake quieted, and Sonora's stressed eased. Her grandfather had said what he wanted to say. What more was left?

Sonora straightened, feeling like a soldier. "What is my part?"

Jorah smiled. "I commend your willingess. Your part is to stay safe so that my son has someone to return to. Let my army deal with this."

"Your army is going to storm into the Marine Center and demand Ian? That is the plan? I agree with Grandpa on one thing. We know the place, pretty much inside and out. It could help your attack."

Jorah shook his finger at her. "No, I won't have you in danger. Ian would never forgive me. I will bring Ian to you when this is done. I will retrieve more warriors and return tomorrow.”

Sonora watched Jorah's wagging finger. On the one hand, she could understand why he might treat her like a child. How old was he? Like two hundred and fifty? On the other hand, the hot flush of irritation flooding her seemed quite reasonable. But given her grandfather's and Jorah's argument, she didn't want to further upset her soon-to-be father-in-law.

She tipped her head. "I understand. We'll be waiting for you."

After a quick nod, Jorah strode out of the house with his guards. One could only imagine what passersby thought of the three towering men in strange clothing striding to the beach.

Twenty-Two

The Handshake

Chapter Twenty-two

Ian stirred when a scuff of shoes sounded down the hallway. It felt like early morning, very early though with no windows he couldn't be sure if it were still dark.

A squeak of rubber on the shiny tile floor echoed down the hallway. Tennis shoes. It was Vincent.

Ian absently checked the lock on his cage, a constant habit of his. He'd already picked at it several times throughout the night. But he was restless. Last night, Sonora and Jorah came to him stronger than ever. He didn't know what that meant but hoped it meant something.

The lock was secure, as it was each time he checked it. He had examined the bars and seams long ago and found no weakness. Still, Ian couldn't stop himself from running a hand over them, shaking one after another. It was more than a habit now, it was an obsession.

When he was done, he sagged in the corner of his barred room. Most days, the inspection sent him into a downward spiral of despair. But today, a tiny flare of hope continued to burn.

Ian scratched at his dry skin. At least today he would get to soak in the small tank. It was something. His heart sank, and he closed his eyes as he remembered last night's mistake. If Devon watched the tape, he would see Ian's defiance. There would be some sort of punishment. He would be happy if it were only another week without the salt tank. He would suffer, but not as much as with Devon's many other imaginative abuses.

He shot a quick glance into the hallway. Unless he could get Vincent to help him.

Ian cringed at Vincent's jaunty whistle. It was a sound he learned long ago to dread. It meant the start of a new tortuous day. He crouched on the balls of his feet, a hand around the bars on each side of the cage. He moved back and forth, longing for a way to flee, but there was no way out.

Even if there was, would he go? Devon constantly threatened Sonora to keep Ian in line. It hung in the air like a menacing cloud.

As horrible as it was for him, the thought of Sonora strapped to that metal table was even more horrifying. Ian would go through anything to keep her safe.

Vincent stood at the door, fumbling with the lock. The sound caused every caged inhabitant to still. Devon's assistant waltzed in and sat a backpack on the hated metal table.

The young man laid out the instruments for the day. Ian tried and failed to stop himself from trembling at the sight of the same thick, long needle plunged into his chest yesterday.

Not that again.

Done with that chore, Vincent started feeding the animals, beginning with the small glass tanks and working his way up to the larger ones. He gave each occupant some slight encouragement, a gentle pet, or spoke a few kind words.

Before he made it to Ian, he returned to his pack and pulled out an apple. "Here you go, Buddy," Vincent said, handing Ian the items one at a time. "Sorry, I had to skip out early yesterday, but I brought you something extra." With a flourish, Vincent pulled an orange out of his jacket pocket and handed both down through the bars, then moved on.

"Thank you," Ian said. He shook. The sound of his own voice surprised him.

Vincent jumped back. Subjects were not allowed to speak. He frowned but continued past the man.

He had nothing to lose now. "My name is not Buddy, it is Ian."

Startled, Vincent turned toward Ian. He looked to the door, then the camera and back at Ian, whispering, "You know you're not allowed to talk! Do you want to be punished? He will be here soon."

Ian hung his head. "It is too late. The tape holds an image of me defying him. He will punish me for that."

"Look, Buddy—"

"Ian."

"Whatever!" Vincent glanced over his shoulder toward the door.

"Ian."

"Fine, Ian! You think you've had it bad? I've seen him do much, much worse." Vincent took a step toward Ian. "I'm just trying to help you."

"I understand. Can you erase the tape?"

"Are you kidding me? No! I shouldn't even be talking to you. Like at all!"

"I don't know how much more I can take. Can you please erase the tape?"

"Oh, you can take a lot more, believe me. I've seen what your kind can take."

To Ian's shame, his eyes flooded with tears. This really would be his life until the end. "How long—how long will I be here?"

"Don't worry, you have months yet. Sometimes, Doc even takes a liking to someone and lets them live years." He patted the cage and moved off. Until he heard the sobs. Then he stopped.

Ian's hands covered his face. He berated himself for being weak, but he was sick over what Vincent had said. Months, years to endure.

The young man returned and kneeled in front of Ian's cage. "Hey, Bud—I mean Ian. Don't."

Ian stared at Vincent. "I beg you to help me. Just this once. Please erase the tape."

Vince pulled in a breath and looked at the camera. If he did that, he could be suspended, maybe even fired. Devon had been known to do that over the smallest infraction. He glanced back at Ian. Of course, that was nothing compared to what that one would get.

Vince rose, went to the backroom, and with a few taps, erased the footage. He turned the power to the system off and went back out to the lab.

"There. All done." He crouched in front of Ian. "I know this sucks but think of all the good you're doing. That has got to mean something, doesn't it?"

Ian raised his head and thanked him for erasing the tape. "Is that what you tell yourself to feel better about what is done in this room? Then I wish I could tell you this would help your people. But it will not. Something is coming for you, for your entire race and nothing done here will stop it."

Ian's rusty voice brought an eeriness to his words. "A disease stalks you. One you bring upon yourselves. Atlantians were tasked with saving you, but there will be no saving now. See, I was the one to race for the cure, but here I sit caught in a cage. You will die, you will all die horrible deaths."

Vince's eyes widened further and further as cold fingers trailed through him. He tried to dismiss Ian's words. Just another fanatical belief in the end of the world. But when he tried to move away, the Atlantian's story held him entranced.

Ian's voice strengthened. "We are a people of fathers and mothers and children. We have homes and gardens and pets. We have happy days and sad days and dreams. We all come from the same source. We are all the same."

Vince cleared his throat and looked away. This was why the subjects weren't allowed to talk because it reminded the workers they were still people. Real people.

"Vince, I can stop the disease. Let me save humankind."

"How do I know this disease is real?"

"Do you deny there could be a disease capable of killing all humankind?"

Vince had worked in many labs. He knew exactly what kind of diseases were out there, and there were plenty of deadly ones. "Tell me more."

Ian kept an eye on the entrance as he told Vincent everything, from the moment the Traveler had shown up at their door to the day the council sent him on the mission for the cure. He explained the box, its secret drawer, and the loss of the remedy for human survival.

Vincent was quiet for a moment. Was it farfetched? Yes. But he would have thought the same about the existence of Atlantians before this all began, and here one of them sat. So, not impossible.

If it were true, letting this one—Ian—go would save the world. If it were not true, another of them would come along. Devon could take his anger out on that one.

Vincent rubbed his chin and stared at Ian. The soft scratch of whiskers filled the quietness. "If you're lying, just trying to get away, then I have to warn you the one who comes after you will pay for it in ways you cannot imagine."

Ian’s voice became firm. “Atlantians do not lie."

"Um. I guess we will see." Vincent looked over his shoulder as tension tightened his stomach. Was he really going to do this?

He ran a hand over his face. He had too. Every disgusting thing about this job flooded over him when the man had told Vince his name. Ian.

How did he defend himself? What story made this okay?

There is a man, a man who lives in a cage where I work. Every day we take him out and do brutal experiments on him. Without pity, without remorse. We—I stuff him back in the cramped box every night and whistle as I go home.

A sob racked Vince's body. What had he become? Devon called them abominations, but we were the monsters. He'd let this man go and walk out with him. Never come back.

"Give me a minute. I'll get the keys, and I think we have some scrubs that will fit you, at least kinda. If you go roaming out there with just your shorts on, you'll be noticed right away."

Ian reached through the bars and grabbed Vince's hand. He was trembling. "Thank you!"

Vince twisted his hand in Ian's and shook it, like one does when meeting a new friend, sealing their agreement. Both men smiled until they heard shoes tapping down the hallway toward the open lab door.

Twenty-Three

Even This Wrong

Chapter 23

Sonora jerked awake, shocked she’d drifted to sleep at all. Last night, after being ordered to wait for Jorah’s army, neither one had been happy. They were quiet for a moment as they watched the Atlantians walk away.

She’d made a face and tipped her head. “Grandpa?”

Blake didn’t look at her. He kept his eyes on the men. “I know.”

Sonora had smiled. She figured he’d be on her side. For different reasons, of course. For Blake, there was less chance of anyone getting hurt if he could quietly check out the Marine Center. For Sonora, tomorrow was too long to wait. It gave them the same goal, but her hopes were soon dashed.

Sonora had grabbed her grandfather’s forearm. “So, we can go tonight?”

He shook his head. “It’s locked up too tight.”

“But you got in for the Artifact.”

“Yes, but since then we can be sure they replaced the alarm and are on high alert.”

“First thing in the morning, then, as soon as they open.”

“Definitely first thing.”

So, Sonora tried sleeping, but mostly just tossed and turned. Now sensing Ian, she wondered how she missed it before. He seemed to come and go. Panicked, she’d try to find him as she stilled her racing heart. She didn’t know how this worked. Was he asleep, or was something terrible happening?

Her fitful sleep had apparently deepened. She jumped from the bed and pushed her curtains aside. Still early then. That was good.

Raw with nerves, Sonora pulled on a pair of jeans and slipped on a t-shirt, then scurried downstairs to the kitchen. As the Keurig did its thing, she shoved a protein bar into her back pocket, pulled out two to-go cups, and filled them with coffee.

As she stepped out of the door, she looked at her grandfather’s house. He stood outside, waiting for her.

As they drove to the Marine Center, Blake outlined the plan. “We act like tourists, so we don’t attract attention. Remember, there are cameras everywhere. Let’s check out a few exhibits and ask the employees we know for some behind the scenes tours.”

“And if we don’t find anything?”

“It’s a place to start. Look for anything odd. If Ian is in there, he has to be hidden. Look for doors or hallways that seem to go nowhere or shouldn’t be there.”

They circled the building first to understand its layout. Sonora pointed to an area on the left side of the building then to the map she’d brought up on her phone. “I don’t know, Grandpa, but this seems off. It seems wider here than it should be. Like a lot.”

“Okay, we’ll check that out.”

Sonora played with the buttons on her phone. “Are we going to ask Uncle Devon and Aunt Claire to help us?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. No, I don’t think so.” Blake parked the car and turned to his granddaughter. “I’m not saying they’re involved, but, honey, sometimes people do things that make sense to them but are—they are wrong.”

“Not this wrong, Grandpa!”

Blake winced. “Even this wrong.”

Sonora shook her head, unable to reconcile someone she loved being this evil. But she couldn’t stop the tiny thread of doubt worming its way through her.

As they entered the large Marine Center lobby, Sonora drew in a large breath of salty, pungent scent. It was a habit, and always associated with happy days of learning and exploring with her family. Her insides shriveled when she thought of it being anything other than that. Tension rising, even the tinkling sound of the small waterfall failed to soothe her.

Sonora scanned the room with fresh eyes. There were doors everywhere, and each one brought a question. Did the area behind the ticket booth contain more than offices? Did the door beside the alligator exhibit lead to a secret lab? Her stomach churned with dread.

Sonora had spent some time in the penguin exhibit and felt she knew exactly what was behind it, but the same couldn’t be said of the massive dolphin enclosure. As the largest one in the building, it could easily hide some secret space. And it was on the correct side of the building.

Anna, one of the dolphin caretakers, passed Blake and Sonora, then backpedaled when she recognized them. “Hi!”

“Oh, hi!” Sonora said. “I’m glad we bumped into you. We were wondering if we could get behind the scenes today. Grandpa hasn’t ever been back there.” Sonora shot an anxious glance at Blake.

“I don’t see why not,” Anne said. “It’s a slow day, and the pod is active. They could use a little playtime.”

Anna took them in the back and immediately put them to work with the dolphins. As they threw rings and other toys for the dolphins to retrieve, they scanned the area. Painted bright yellow and orange, the large, echoing chamber was littered with doors.

She whispered to Blake, “I’ve been in all these except that one.”

Blake nodded. When Anna waved and told them she would be right back, he went to the door and looked through its small window. His eyes widened. “It’s a hallway! I’m going to check it out.”

Sonora hopped up from beside the pool. “Grandpa, you can’t! She’ll be back in a minute. Wait until we can both go.”

He waved her off. “I’m an old man. If someone catches me, I’ll just pretend to have a lot less sense than I do. It’s one of the few perks of this age, no one questions why I’m doing something crazy.” He chuckled. “It works pretty well.”

She gave him a wry look. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed it’s your go-to move.”

Blake through the door open and walked through it, sending her a huge grin. Sonora stood there, gripping one of the dolphin rings like it would somehow save them all.

One of the dolphins chirped.

“Oh, sorry!” She tossed the ring and waited, tapping her foot. Her grandfather came back through the door, and she blew out a breath and wiped her forehead. “Anything?”

“Nothing really, just storage.” Blake said. “And nobody.”

“Where else then? We’ve been pretty much everywhere. Maybe Jorah’s wrong, and this isn’t where Ian is. I can’t say I sense him any better here than at home. In fact, I can hardly feel him at all.”

“That is what I’m hoping. Could be the hospital. Or even the History Museum. There seems to be a connection to this place.”

Blake took a toy from one of the dolphins and threw it. Sonora caught sight of a thin silvery scar running down his arm. An injury Blake told his family he’d gotten in a horrible bicycle accident, an accident she now knew probably never happened. How often did her grandfather’s mind drift back to those dark days? How had he survived it all? How would Ian?

Twenty-Four

Threats

Chapter Twenty-Four

Ian and Vince quickly separated. Ian went to the back of his cage, Vince busied himself at the extended countertop. Devon strode into the room and scowled at the instruments Vince had organized in perfect order for him. "Put those away," he barked. "We're doing something else today." Vincent rushed to undo what he had just finished.

Ian tracked Devon as he smacked a small cooler onto the countertop. His tentative joy over Vincent's offer of help dashed. The relief that burst through him when the scientist ordered the instruments put away disappeared. He may have gotten out of the experiments the evil man gleefully scheduled, but that didn't mean he was off the hook. Devon was angry, and an angry Devon was a dangerous one.

With pinched lips, Devon walked closer and leaned over Ian. "I had such plans today, such plans. But my desires were pushed aside. The higher-ups decided they have something more important to try. Didn't even consult with me, of course, after all my decades of assistance. Service." He spat the word. "But don't worry, if you live through today, we'll begin my plans tomorrow—with a vengeance."

Ian groaned and shoved himself further back into his shadowy prison.

Devon ground his teeth as if snapping an ice cube in two. "Just a little pinprick today. That is all you get. The History Museum group has been working on a new kind of biological weapon to use against your kind."

His captor glared at Ian, eyes burning with hatred. "I'm of two minds on this. First, I want it to work because I want you all to disappear. But second, I've been informed you are to be my last subject, and I want you to last."

A chill ran through Ian. Devon's face grew redder by the second, his hands clenching into whitened fists. His jaw tightened to the point it would not have surprised Ian if it cracked.

"You! My last subject! They think we've gotten all the information they need. Well, I haven't! We have gained so much from your kind, it has helped millions of ours. Millions! What more could we learn? And they say it ends?"

Devon walked to the counter, and swept everything off in one furious swipe of his arm. The loud tumble of metal and glass was deafening. Devon turned and pointed to Ian. "How long can you live? Because if you are the end, I'm going to make you last!"

He kicked one of the metal pans. It skidded and clanged across the floor, stopping at Vincent's feet. Hand trembling, the assistant reached to pick the dish up and held it awkwardly to his chest.

Devon continued, "Who are they to say that this ends? Who are they? It was my uncle who started this company after my father was murdered." He punched a finger at Ian. "By your friend! The Atlantis Company he called it. He always did have a strange sense of humor. Guess who his first visitor was? Oh yes, Argos. Or should we call him Blake? That was the fifties. Oh, the things he learned from that man!"

The cold spread through Ian as if he’d entered the chill waters of the North Sea. It was clear now. It was more than one man or even a couple. How large was this company? He listened carefully to every word spilling from Devon's mouth.

"He buried the bodies at first, but by the time I took over, I mean, why bother? No one stopped us. No one cared."

From beneath hooded lids, Ian studied Devon. We cared.

"At least if this works, you will all be dead, which is what my uncle and I wanted all along. All of you eradicated!"

Ian had nothing to lose. He was dead one way or another. He swallowed, then regretted it when his mouth became even drier. "This disease. It may not kill us. It may kill you."

Devon threw his head back and cackled. "Not some pandemic apocalypse! I've heard it from your kind before. I don't believe it. Now be silent, or I will use the taser."

Ian looked away. The man wouldn't listen. He'd done all he could, more than he would have if Sunny hadn't been involved. Let them destroy themselves. He prayed Sunny's DNA, whether human or Atlantian would protect her.

Devon grabbed the cooler and marched into the back room. His disembodied voice shouted, "Vincent! Why is the system off?"

Ian and Vince glanced at one another as the assistant scurried toward the entry with a flushed face. "I'm sorry, Mr. Shade! The power must've blinked or something. I didn't get around to getting it set back up." He shuffled into the room. "I can get that for you."

Devon snarled his irritation, "Get out of here."

Vincent almost tripped over himself as he rushed to exit the room. The two watched the scientist through the open doorway.

Devon flicked a button, and the monitor's glow lit his face. He smirked. "Well, well, well, Atlantian. You're never going to guess who is here."

Ian's insides seized. He knew from Devon's laugh alone. It had been hours since he'd reached out to her. So gentle Sunny wouldn't feel it, he did so now. Heart dropping, Ian closed his eyes. She was close, too close.

Devon laughed again. "Looks like she's not missing you too much if she's out sightseeing."

Sunny wasn't sightseeing. She was on edge, excited, nervous to the point of frightened. She was up to something.

When Devon's phone rang, he answered, "Yes? Okay. Tell them I'll be right down."

Devon walked back into the central lab as he slid his phone into his pant pocket. "Our little Sunny wants to see me, her dear uncle. Have I told you how close we are? How I have comforted her over your absence?"

Ian tried not to listen. Devon seemed to get a special kind of joy when he taunted Ian over Sunny.

"She's been so concerned. She thinks you may have abandoned her." Devon lowered his voice to a whisper as he leaned toward Ian. "I think she's giving up on you."

Ian locked his jaw, determined not to rise to the bait.

Devon's eyes glittered as he took in Ian's fingers tightly gripping the metal bars. "I'll make sure to give our Sunny a hug from you. Then I'll come back here and tell you how good she smells."

The words were out before Ian could stop them. "Keep your hands off her."

"Now, now that isn't very nice of you. She is my niece, you know. Though remember, not a blood relation."

Ian's eyes narrowed at Devon's veiled threats. He shot the evil man a venomous look as he pulled himself to the front of the cage.

Devon stiffened. "Don't get arrogant with me, Abomination! I can smooth her hair and whisper sweet sympathies over you in her ear, or I can throw her in the tank and see how long she can hold her breath."

Furious, the two men glared at one another.

Devon unclenched his teeth enough to say, "It's what they want anyway. Those in the History group. I've been protecting them, my two little nieces. But the higher-ups say Sierra and Sunny are my next subjects." His voice fell to a whisper, and his face paled.

Ian froze, his imagination wild over what Devon may be ordered to do.

Devon's face sagged. "I see we agree on one thing, Atlantian. Neither one of us wants to see our girl on that table."

He straightened and threw off whatever conscious he had. "I think that is what I will do, throw her in the dolphin tank, and hold her under until she drowns. It will be the ultimate experiment, don't you think? Something those ignorant hacks at History will even respect. At least, then it will be quick for her."

Devon whipped around the corner of the back room. After a couple of crashes, he stood in the doorway with the monitor and set it on the counter where Ian could see the screen.

"I'll let you see her last moments. Just remember," Devon said, "as you watch her last air bubble, it was your attitude that gave me this idea. You can't say I haven't warned you. I have. Again and again."

"No!" Ian said through frozen lips.

"But hey, if she lives, I'll take this chimp out and put her right here beside you.” He patted the cage beside Ian.

The taste of bitter panic rose within Ian. He squeezed a bar in each hand. "No! Leave her! I will do anything. Start your plans now. I will cooperate in every way."

"Of course you will, one way or another. But I think I will see my darling niece first. I don't want to disappoint her."

When Devon moved close to the cage, Ian rose and tried to grab him, but his hands met only air. "I will kill you!" Ian bellowed.

"More like the other way around. And if you continue like this, I will glue that taser to you—on high."

Ian's anguished howls filled the room and echoed against his own ears. He pulled at the bars in desperation as Devon spouted orders to a sad-faced Vince he dragged along as they left the room. "You're going to keep Grandpa and that stupid little dolphin trainer busy."

Twenty-Five

All Edges

Chapter Twenty-Five

The lab door slammed shut just as the metal bar he worked on creaked. Ian renewed his efforts. Another creak. A ray of sun entered that dark place inside him for a moment until the metal refused to go further. One insignificant bend, then nothing.

He bruised his body against the bars until his small reserve of power ran out. Drug-addled and weak from lack of food and exercise, Ian lay panting at the bottom of his cage. Hands, arms, and shoulders burned from use. He was pathetic—hardly a man at all now.

The monitor flickered, but Ian refused to lift his eyes to it.

Sonora watched Anne bang her way back through the door carrying two large pails of fish. “Well, you can help me if you’d like, but I didn’t know if you wanted to see your family. I asked, but I guess Claire already left today or is on an errand. Anyway, she isn’t here, but Mr. Shade is. I can call him if you want.”

“That would be great,” Blake said with a smile to Sonora’s dismay.

“Okay.” Anne put down the buckets. “I’ll leave these with you and get in touch with him. If you’re not careful, you’re going to do all my work today!” She laughed.

Sonora moved closer to Blake and hissed, “Grandpa, I don’t want to see Uncle Devon. Not while we suspect him of—of this!”

“It’ll be okay, we can’t refuse to see him. Just act normal.”

Sonora turned and rolled her eyes. Act normal? When she’d just found out the man she cared for might be responsible for taking Ian, for hurting people and worse?

She angrily threw a couple fish to a dolphin who stared at her a moment before his hunger outweighed his curiosity, and he raced for his dinner.

There was only one thing left Ian could do, and he hoped Sunny’s short supply of Atlantian DNA would be able to handle it. This was no time for delicate initiation. He pushed out to her again. Not with the sensitive, soft touch of a loved one he normally used but with the determination of an aggressor. He needed to warn her, show her the panic he felt.

"I am sorry," he murmured.

Ian jerked when Sunny startled, and regardless of her alarm, moved closer. He winced, his heart aching, over her shock and confusion. The fierce power he used was almost more than she could bear. Tears welled in his eyes. But this was necessary. He had to warn her. Devon was on his way. Her agitation slowly calmed, and Sunny allowed him as best as she could. With her slow acceptance, he repeated one word.

Run.

Sonora bent to grab a couple more fish for the begging dolphin. A wave of dizziness hit her. She shook it off, but only for a moment. It came back. This time slamming through her hard enough she almost dropped to her knees.

Trembling, she held one hand to her head and the other toward Blake’s back. “Grandpa?”

He swung around at her panicked squeak.

“Something—” Sonora grabbed hold of him, letting the older man help hold her up. “Something is happening. Ian. I don’t understand—I don’t know what to do.”

Blake shook his head. “Why is he doing this?” He paled and tightened his grip on Sunny. “It must be important. Just relax. Let it happen.”

The feeling was hard, blunt, and so much stronger than anything she had felt before. Sunny gasped, her heart slamming against her sternum. Ian’s usual all-encompassing comforting warmth was gone. Instead, this exploded into her, all edges. It poked and hurt. But it made one thing clear—he was close. Ian was here.

“Grandpa, it’s him. But he’s scared or something. It’s different. Oh, I wish I understood!” Her breath hitched. “It feels like panic. But not for himself, because I would’ve felt that before now. No. I think he is scared—he is scared for me.”

Twenty-Six

Murder

Chapter 26

As soon as Devon pulled Vincent around the corner, he shook his arm and let him go. The man was whining at him again, and Devon could take no more. "Shut up!"

"But Mr. Shade, I—I can't do this. This is murder!"

Devon scoffed as he continued to march on. "You have already murdered, many times over."

Vincent reared back. "Excuse me, sir, but I have not."

"Really?" Devon raised an eyebrow. "What do you call the ones you helped load into the back of my truck when we are done with them?"

Vincent flushed and swallowed, eyes shifting to the ground. "Subjects," he mumbled. "They were subjects."

Devon halted and pulled Vincent to a stop. “Be man enough to be truthful about who you are, at least to yourself. You torture men and you kill them."

Vincent's face paled to the point Devon readied himself to catch him. Vincent put his hand to his stomach. He whispered, "That is what I am. That is what I have become. How did this happen?" Tears threatened to roll down his face.

Devon scolded him as a teacher scolds an errant student. "I have no patience with this type of behavior. You did what you had to do to help all of mankind. It is what we all do, what we have to do for a better future for—for everyone. Yes, some fall by the wayside, but that is inevitable. It has always been the way. Some fall so that others go on better and stronger than before."

Vincent hung his head.

"Stop acting like a child. Your incredible curiosity and skill got you here. You should be proud."

Vincent's mouth dropped as he gave Devon a quick, hard stare. "Proud?"

Devon clucked like an old grandmother. "Yes, of course. Now follow me."

A few quick steps down the hallway, he realized Vincent wasn't behind him. Devon stopped and looked back, waving his arm. "Come on!"

Vincent didn't budge. "No, sir. I won't do it. I'm not going to help you kill your niece."

Devon marched back to Vincent. "I'm not going to kill Sonora. That subject—"

"Ian?"

"That subject simply will not break. Every time I think he is in my control, a light of independence flares in his eyes." Devon clenched a fist. "I can't have that. What happens when he decides he doesn't care what happens to Sunny? That he wants to live? He will get away. They all could have."

Vincent's brow creased. "But we are so careful. We double and triple check the straps, the locks and the drugs we give them."

"Yes, and that conditions them to think they can't. But what if we forget a dosage just once, or if all straps and locks aren’t as they should be. They could take advantage.” Devon eyed Vincent before going on, “The thing is they're a pampered lot. Wherever their home is, it must be safe, secure. If they were a streetwise, scrappy bunch, it is unlikely we could keep them so long. Breaking them is how I control them.”

Devon flipped his hand at Vincent. "I'm not going to hurt my niece, not after everything I do to keep her safe. If those imbeciles in History want anything from her, they are going to have to come get her themselves. But that one in there doesn't need to know that.  He’ll see you take the dolphin trainer and Blake out of the frame. I'll give Sonora a playful push into the tank. From his angle, it will seem murderous. No harm to anyone. Of course, he will think there was, and that is all that matters. You got it?"

Vincent hesitated, but if he cooperated with Devon maybe he could make his way back to Ian. Let the man know his girl was okay, and maybe this time, succeed in getting him out of the cage. It was a sick thing to pull, but in the long run, it was for everyone’s own good.

Vincent winced. Wasn't that what he’d been telling himself all along? But this time it is really true. He stood a little straighter.

He gave Devon a sharp nod. "Yeah, I can handle it. No probs."

Twenty-Seven

Hello, Little Niece

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Sonora put a hand to her aching head. "Grandpa… we need to leave now."

Blake put an arm around her waist when she stumbled. They turned toward the door at the same time as Devon burst through it with a tall skinny man in tow. Grandfather and granddaughter froze. Had Ian been warning her about Uncle Devon?

"Keep up," Devon said sharply to the young man trailing him.

Devon beamed at his father-in-law and niece. "Hello, hello! Always a welcome surprise to find family here. What's the special occasion?"

Blake released his hold on Sonora, and walked to Devon, giving him a handshake and a couple thumps on the back. Sonora stared at her grandfather, her jaw almost on the ground. She hadn't known he was such a good actor. It was as if this were the same as any other day. There was no way Uncle Devon would guess he was suspected of anything.

Devon walked to her and pulled her into a hug, rocking from side to side. "Hello, little niece."

"Hello." Everything seemed awkward. She seemed to barely hug him at first, then hugged him too tightly. Even her voice sounded strained. She froze mid-hug. A nod from her grandfather got her back on track. Pulling away, she beamed at Devon. "I'm so glad you were able to see us."

He gave her an odd stare, but she kept smiling. Then he chuckled. "Of course, I would come to see my favorite niece. Now don't tell your sister that, but then she deserted me for another man."

"Oh, Uncle Devon, you're so funny."

After Devon introduced Vincent, he asked if Anne was in the area. Blake and Sonora assured him the dolphin trainer was getting supplies for the dolphins.

"Has she been gone a while?" Devon asked, looking around. "Maybe she needs help."

"I can check," Vincent offered and took off for the door Sonora pointed out. He stopped and glanced at Blake. "Hey, would you like to come with me?"

Blake's glance went from Devon to Sonora. She nodded at him, they needed to keep up the charade, and what could her uncle do here.

Blake shrugged and said, "Sure, why not?" The two took off through the door.

Devon walked to the dolphin tanks and took a ring from their selection of toys. He threw it to the far side of the tank causing excited chirps and squeaks from the animals. No matter how long they played, they were always ready for more.

When the lead dolphin brought it back, Devon held out his hand out to Sonora.

Sonora stepped up to the edge of the tank and gave her uncle a smile. "These guys sure do love their playtime."

Devon crouched, giving a couple of them a rub as they passed by. "They do. I've always admired these animals. Perfectly made for their environment. I suppose you will see that firsthand soon."

Sonora's head whipped toward him. "What?"

"When you graduate. Your dad told me you've been taking classes, and I'm assuming you'll put that degree of yours to work."

"Oh, yes. Still some time yet, but soon enough, that's true. It will be an experience."

Uncle Devon studied her as he spoke,"I'm sure it will be."

Sonora threw him a smile, then turned her attention to the inhabitants of the tank. She shivered. Was he acting strange, or was it her? Something was off. After shooting him a glance and seeing nothing but smiles, she berated herself. If her uncle did have Ian, he couldn't possibly be here with her as if nothing was happening, could he?

Devon whistled and clicked at the dolphins as if trying to speak to them. He failed so miserably Sonora was convinced the beautiful creatures were sending him puzzled looks as they bobbed in the water. She giggled. The more time she spent with her uncle, the harder it was to believe he was capable of anything awful. It couldn't be him.

"Well, until you take off on some under the sea adventure, you're stuck with us." Devon reached into the water and scooping a handful threw it on Sonora.

She gasped, not from the water, it was warm, but from her uncle's actions. He was usually so meticulous it surprised her he'd started this game. He had to know where it would lead, Sonora was not one to hold back.

"Uncle Devon!" Sonora sent him her own handful.

Another round of splashing and the water fight had begun in earnest. Sonora stumbled over then picked up an empty small fish bucket. Perfect. This would give him a real soaking. She tossed the pail full of water, sure there had to be some fish slime in there too.

Sonora tried to stifle her laughter as her uncle instantly stilled. For a moment, his scowl and ramrod straight posture told her she'd gone too far. The man was so drenched, she could see his chest hair.

"Sunny Reeves!"

Sonora dropped the bucket and brought her hands to her mouth. "Oh, Uncle Devon, I'm so sorry! I hope you have a change of clothes. I know how much you hate—"

Her uncle's shock gave him a strange expression. Then it passed, and he burst out in laughter, rushing toward her. Sonora turned to run, gasping and screeching, but it was too late. He caught her. Swinging her high, he carried her to the edge of the tank.

"No! You wouldn't, Uncle Devon!" When he shook her a few times over the open water, she squealed and begged, "Please, Uncle Devon, put me down."

He pretended to drop her, catching her at the last minute. "Put you down, you say?"

"No, no! Please don't, please!" Sonora wrapped her arms around his neck as she pleaded and shook her head.

"Well, you're going in one way or another."

"No!"

"Yes!"

Sonora clung to him so tightly Devon couldn't shake her, so he jumped, taking them both into the water. Sonora grabbed a breath on their way down and let her uncle drag her deep into the tank.

The weight of the disturbed water and the tickle of air bubbles surrounded them as they fell. There was a smooth brush of rubbery skin. When Sonora opened her eyes, three curious dolphins surrounded them.

Devon still held one of her hands, as he petted the dolphins with the other. His smile shone through the shadowy, light-streaked waters. Sonora couldn't help but smile back at him. For a time, they hung suspended in the warm water surrounded by sea creatures.

It was a magical moment, something exceptional she would never forget. Sonora prayed her instincts about her uncle were right, that he was a good man. How could he have tricked all of them?

Devon's expression turned serious. He grabbed the fin of the nearest dolphin and let it pull them to the bottom of the tank. Sonora nervously looked at the surface. They were going the wrong way. The need to pull in air was building, and a bit of panic set in as she recalled the last time she'd been underwater without sufficient air. She tugged on Devon's hand.

He didn't seem to notice.

At the bottom of the tank, the dolphins lazily circled the outer perimeter. Sonora tried to pull her hand from her uncle's.

He held fast.

Sonora's heart started to pound. What was he doing?

She used her other hand to pry his fingers off. He turned to look at her. Something was there she'd never seen before. But there was no time to examine it. She pointed to the top of the tank.

Devon studied her as if trying to piece something out. Sonora put a hand to her throat and pointed up. As if he finally understood, her uncle nodded and smiled. He let go of the fin, and they floated to the top. Two of the dolphins pushed them to the opposite edge of the pool. As they pulled themselves out of the water, Devon glance at the room's only camera. They were on the backside of it.

Sonora plopped by the edge of the pool, gasping. "Geez, Uncle Devon. I thought you weren't going to get the message there for a minute."

"I'm sorry. I noticed one of the dolphins has an injury. I should have been paying more attention to you."

Sonora worked not to narrow her gaze. But when he whistled one of the dolphins over and looked it over, sure enough, there was a long scratch along its side. Okay, so he had not tried to drown her.

When the others came into the room, Devon waved Anna over to show the trainer where the animal needed attention.

Blake glanced at their soaked clothing. "What happened here?"

Devon chuckled. "Oh, I just tried to drown your granddaughter."

Vincent choked and looked to the floor.

"No, you didn't, Uncle Devon," Sonora giggled.

"You're right." He bopped her nose like he had when she was a child. "You survived. Your so resilient, just like the rest of your family."

"Our family."

"Yes, of course. Our family." Devon pulled at the clothes sticking to him. "Well, a change of clothing, and I'm back to work. I have a subject in need of an injection."

"Yikes!" Sonora said. “I hate needles.”

"Yes, yikes," Devon said, "You wouldn't believe how yikes it is."

Twenty-Eight

A Special Cocktail

Chapter Twenty-Eight

In Atlantis, loved ones lived for centuries. Ian still had multiple generations of grandparents. Those who had died were not close to him. So, he didn't know what it felt like when someone beloved died. He shuddered, waiting in agony for the moment he sensed Sunny was no longer there.

He imagined a deeper, darker hole than the bottomless black one he had been in when she left to return home. A world where every bit of love, happiness, goodness, and kindness was gone. His heart grew heavy, already aching in anticipation of its split.

Pain beyond belief was coming. He gripped the bars and prepared himself for it.

Once, in a city on land, he'd watched a work crew implode a building. They’d announced the time and started the countdown. Each minute had seemed both shorter and longer than it ought to have been.

That is what happened now. But instead of eager expectation, he was in despair. Tears flooded Ian's eyes and ran to the floor below as he savored each last moment with her.

Ian couldn't stop himself from lifting his heavy, drug-addled head. His gaze skittered around the room as he forced himself to look at anything other than what played out on the monitor.

He sensed Sunny's wavering emotions. Her nervousness, relief, joy, and fear. Ian cringed as his gaze darted to the screen. He saw the dolphin pool. One lone dolphin, circling the surface of the water. The others merely shadows as they swam in deeper water.

No threatening Devon. No Sunny.

Had it already happened? He shook his foggy head, reaching for her. Sunny's bright joy warmed him, and Ian let out a slow breath. She was okay. Perhaps Devon had changed his mind.

Ian stayed with Sunny until he heard the evil man marching down the hallway, Vince's squeaky shoes accompanying him. He slunk to the back of his cage.

Devon burst through the door. "Did you see that, Abomination? She's dead."

Ian narrowed his eyes. Why would the man pretend that when he knew Ian could sense she was alive? Could it be that no one ever told him they could feel one another?

The more Ian thought about it, the more sense it made. Any chance an Atlantian had of escape would have relied on them reaching out to each other. Who would one cut their last chance at life, slim as it may be?

Ian put his hands to his face. Devon needed to believe his sorrow. Tears were easy to come by in this place, and they soon trailed his face.

"Now, let's get back to business." Devon went to the back room and brought back a glass vial. "This is a special cocktail." He swirled the small bottle. "A mix of what is sometimes called the 1918 Killer Flu and the Rabies virus."

Vincent's gasp sounded through the room.

Devon threw him a satisfied look. "Yes, you're right, Vincent. Quite a toxic mixture."

Devon walked to Ian and peered down at him. "I'm not sure if it will be painful or not, but I suspect you will be able to handle that part of it. You've had worse. But it will change you before you die. In fact, our History brethren suggested we leave you in your strong cage and secure you to the bars."

"They have used it on some of the chimps." Devon turned and pulled a few thick straps from the drawer. "They all have turned violent, so there's that. Turn around and stretch your arms along the bars."

Ian wanted to resist, but how far would he get? He was still in this prison. Did the fact Devon hadn't killed Sonora prove he wouldn't, or was it merely so he could use her another time? Ian shot a look at Vince behind Devon's back.

Vincent mouthed, "I'll get you out."

Of course, that was if the injection didn't kill him. But there wasn't a way out of this. Devon already fingered the taser on the counter with glee in his eyes.

Ian's slight hesitation irritated the scientist. He sighed, grabbing the taser off the counter. "I really get so sick of this."

Ian uttered a loud grunt as he felt the sharp shock of electricity rumble through his body, making his teeth cold and his jaw clench. He sunk further into the floor. Devon had given no warning today.

He continued until Ian's only movement was a slow trembling. When he felt Ian sufficiently subdued, he stopped and dragged his arm between the bars, shoving a needle into it.

"That," Devon said, "was not the virus. That is your sedative."

"No," Ian garbled out. He was already so drugged the additional dosage would have him nearly incapacitated.

"Well, as I always tell you, you should have thought about that before we got to this point. You are a stubborn one. I imagine we'll be using this for a long time yet. I thought you'd have a different attitude after Sonora, but I guess you didn't care for her as much as she thought you did."

The wrath steadily simmering deep inside Ian flared. He closed his eyes so Devon couldn't see it. The men wrapped straps around his arm, tightening them to the bars to the point of discomfort. Once his numbness wore off, it would be worse.

The virus didn't worry Ian. It wasn't likely to kill him any more than the other things did. But as his fuzzy brain and slow limbs obeyed the man he hated more than anything in this world above or the sea below, he harbored the hope that Vincent would stick to his promise and free him.

He glanced at Devon. If so, he would end this man in front of him.

Either way, maybe this day would end his pain. Except for his Beloved, it would hardly be a bad thing.

Twenty-Nine

Labs

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Sonora’s heart dropped when Blake said, “Well, Sunny, I don’t see what else we can do here. Let’s try to meet with Ian’s father. He should be here soon.” He patted her shoulder. “It’s okay. We won’t stop until we find him.”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Instead, she tried to swallow the lump in her throat as she followed her grandfather back through the lobby. He was right, they needed more help with this.

As they passed the restrooms, she felt a need and glanced at her grandfather. “Hey, Grandpa, I’m going to hit the restrooms. Go on out to the car, if you want.”

“Okay, meet ya out there.”

Sonora’s gaze absently trailed down the long hallway painted with colorful cartoon sea creatures and huge water bubbles from floor to ceiling. Her favorite was the family of pink seahorses swimming right beside the women’s restroom door. It still drew her eye, and she tapped on them as she passed.

At the mirror, Sonora fluffed her hair and tried to rub the sadness from her eyes. She glanced around the room and frowned. Pulling her map out of her purse, she opened it and ran her finger around the drawn building. Something wasn’t right.

Sonora walked out to the hallway and examined it again. A blue octopus with large, round eyes happily bounced on waves near the men’s restroom, and a couple of dolphins faced her from the turn in the hallway. On her left should be an outside wall. She examined it closer. It was covered by a massive, painted whale, a light blue face with a bright, white mouth and eyes, but it gradually faded away to almost black on its tail. It was designed to draw the eye to the colorful face.

She examined the darker part of the animal. There was a door there! One she’d never seen before almost flush with the rest of the wall. A glance at the ceiling showed no cameras, and a quick look to the right and left revealed no one in the area.

Sonora grabbed and turned the black doorknob as she huffed a quick breath. The door easily swung open. She stepped through it, quickly closing it behind her.

Inside, it was almost pitch black. Sonora pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and tapped it for a flashlight.

Her heart dropped when she saw only brooms and mops. A cleaning closet. Of course. As she turned to leave, something struck her. Everything was so new. She ran a hand over the shelved supplies and the mop bucket. Dust. This was staged. Why would someone fake a closet?

Sonora turned her flashlight off. In the darkness, she could see a thin ribbon of light along the floor of the back wall. Her eyebrows arched. That shouldn’t be there. Turning her light back on, she reexamined the wall, running her hand around it. Her heart sped up. The wall didn’t feel right.

She scanned the wall but found no knob, so she pushed on it. There was a slight movement. Sonora held her breath and pushed it harder. It popped open, letting a sliver of light in.

She stilled, worried someone on the other side would question her. When she heard nothing, she released the breath she held. Sonora stepped toward the hidden door and grabbed its edge, then stopped.

She should call her grandfather. After the phone rang and rang, she pushed it into her pocket. He was always letting the thing die on him. Sonora threw a glance over her shoulder. She’d take a peek on the other side. Ian could be right there.

Sonora slowly pulled the door open enough to look around. Dark offices lined an empty hallway. Disappointed, she looked down at her map again. Had she only stumbled onto an unused administration area?

But, it wasn’t on the map.

The place looked and felt vacant. Sonora became bolder. Her soft steps echoed as she moved into the empty hallway.

Offices and more offices on either side of her, all deserted. Some of the unlit rooms held shadowy, haphazardly stacked furniture. Chairs on chairs, or desks with a few old audio/video carts in the mix.

Sonora tiptoed up and peered into the closest office. She made out several glass cases. Most were empty, but a few still contained dusty artifacts.

Sonora stared over her shoulder at the door she’d come through. After walking back to it, she pushed it closed. No one was here. She was at least going to look around.

She twisted right and left, trying to decide which way to go. Her gaze caught on a small sign attached to the wall. White lettering, and an arrow, on a black background boldly proclaimed labs to be to the right.

Sonora pulled in a massive breath and squared her shoulders. Then, that’s the way she would go.

Thirty

Changes

Chapter Thirty

The needle slid into Ian's arm smoothly and painlessly, at odds with the danger it contained. Ian didn't know what to expect. Would any change instantaneous, or would it take time? If there even was a change.

From the number of times Devon had wound the straps around his arms, it seemed he was worried about some sort of aggression. Ian hoped any hostility was taken out on the scientist.

His mind swirled with any possible changes. Ian didn't know anything about the Spanish Flu or Rabies, or what the combination could mean for him or anyone else.

Ian's brain fogged, and he shook his head to clear it. "What changes?"

It took considerable effort for him to form the words but talking was good. He didn't want to get lost in any drug-induced delirium. Ian barked a laugh. How would he know if he were delirious?

"He speaks!" Devon said. "I'm impressed. The amount of sedative it takes to keep your kind under is amazing, and yet you continue to fight the effects." Devon adjusted his surgical mask and laced his green-gloved fingers, putting his hands on his crossed knee. "To answer your question, we really don't know. You're the closest thing to a human subject on whom this virus has been tested, but I can tell you what we expect based on our animal trials. And since, from your DNA, you appear to be part animal, how would that be?"

Ian inwardly groaned but gave a sloppy nod.

Devon peered into the cage. "Hanging on by a thread, aren't you?" He chuckled. "Did you know that the rabies virus actually seems intelligent? The virus needs to spread by saliva. So, to do that, it rewires the brain to be aggressive, to bite and tear the flesh of other people or animals so that it can be passed on and live. It will continue to do that victim after victim, each one becoming a mindless tearing machine to keep it alive."

"Only humans," Ian said.

"Only humans? And not Atlantians? Quite right, it seems. So far, anyway. I guess we will soon know for sure."

Devon adjusted the white cloth mask tighter to his face. "The thing about rabies is, or has been, is that despite all the biting, its scope is rather limited. There are only so many victims one can infect. But, merged with this flu, make it airborne, now that's another matter. I believe that is what they're trying to achieve, because airborne, this virus would be a mighty thing."

Vincent made a sound of disgust.

"Really, Vincent," Devon said without looking at him. "You are a disappointment today." Devon gingerly picked up the small, mostly full vial and held it to the light. He turned it as if it were a jewel and watched the light sparkle off it. "Airborne—all it takes is a whiff of air—a breath from a passing stranger, a cough—to infect an entire room. What a thing of beauty."

Devon set the vial on a small wheeled metal table in front of him. "And if you're going to use a flu pandemic to bind with rabies, why not use the worst one known to man? Changes? Oh, there will be so many. Confusion, aggression, seizures, stiffening of the limbs until they are useless, possible coma, death."

Ian tightened his arm and leg muscles. Where they changing yet? He thought not, but he couldn't trust his own mind. His stomach soured. What if this was the one human disease Atlantians could catch?

"That's just from the Rabies part of it. From the other part, let's see." Devon put a hand to his chin. "The 1918 Killer Flu. At first, your typical garden variety flu symptoms, but then many, many people developed a pneumonia attack. It came on so fast they turned blue and suffocated from the bloody foam filling their lungs.

"I suppose for someone like you, a being who breathes less often, that part will take longer. I hope none of this worries you." Devon laughed.

Ian took a deep breath, filling every part of his lungs. It did worry him, but he wasn't going to let Devon know that.

From across the room, Vince stared at Devon. "Why do you have to taunt him? Isn't it what you’re doing bad enough?"

Devon laughed. "Half the fun is seeing the look on their faces."

"You're a cruel man."

Devon scoffed. "This is my lab. You need to remember that." He examined Vince. "It's nice to see some backbone, though. I've often wondered what kind of man your father was to have raised such a weak-willed son."

Vince flushed red. "If you want to tear me apart, fine! But you leave my father out of it. He was a good man, a great man." The assistant walked to Devon and leaned over him, grabbing the edge of the metal table. He wrapped his fingers around it so tightly his knuckles whitened. "You will stop!"

Ian's gaze darted from one man to the other as Devon's jaw hardened, and he jumped from his seat. He threw out a hand, slapping the younger man and catching his surgical mask, ripping it off.

Vince reared back, tightening his hand around the little table. It lifted off its wheel, tipping. The small disease-filled vial skittered across the table's surface until it reached the lipped edge. Until Vince released the table and took a step away from Devon.

The cart gave a rattling thump as the wheels hit the floor, and it righted itself. The glass vial slid back from the edge to the middle of the table.

"You sicken me!" Vince turned for the door.

Devon grabbed the back of Vince's shirt, bunching it in his fist and pulling him backward. The younger man stumbled, almost losing his footing. He flung out his hands, yelling when they hit the table, tipping it again. There was a clatter of glass and metal. Then a tiny chink, chink, chink as the vial gained speed and made its way up and over the edge of the table.

Devon's eyes widened. He pulled Vince away from the falling vial. The three watched the glass tube tumble toward the ground. Ian wasn't sure if it was the drugs or not, but everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

It struck the floor at an angle, and by some strange chance, bounced. But if some would call it luck, it ended there.

When the vial came down again, it shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. The thin, deadly liquid ran over the floor and settled into the cracks of the tile.

Devon clamped a gloved hand over his mouth, despite the mask he wore. He turned and ran for the door.

Ian's hazy gaze sharpened as he looked at the stuff. He glanced at Vince, who stared at the puddle on the floor, rooted in place. The assistant quickly retied the cloth mask hanging down his chest back onto his face.

"Go," the Atlantian said.

Vincent shook his head. "I can get you out. It's what I promised."

"Not with that between us." Ian tipped his head to the floor. "I have only just inhaled. It will be some time before I must breathe again. Go get protection for yourself, then release me."

Vince glanced from the liquid to Ian. "Okay, but I'll be back as soon as I am better prepared."

Vince took a step backward and turned. The table's wheel caught on his pant leg, and the unexpected weight tripped him. Vince threw his hands in front of him as he tumbled to the floor. He gasped and shuddered as the serum splashed against the palms of his hands and soaked his shirt.

Thirty-One

Time

Chapter Thirty-One

Vince stood at the sink, scrubbing his hands with a ferocity rivaling a flea-bitten dog. "Is this it? Did I breathe enough to kill me? Does it soak through the skin? Is this the plague that will kill all humankind?"

"I don't know," Ian said. "I only know it is coming and soon. I don't exactly know what it is. Does this have the potential to destroy like that?"

"Rabies already kills more than sixty-thousand people a year. And that is with a terrible delivery system. If it is airborne... Yes. Yes, it most definitely could."

"It seemed they didn't know it would work."

"Oh, they were pretty sure it would work, or they wouldn't bother testing it on you. Your people are immune to everything. Believe me, if it exists, we tried it. This disease was made to kill you, which means it will kill us."

"If it is the one, you must do something."

Vince turned away from the sink and raised his eyebrows. "Me? What can I do?"

"I don't know. What can you do?"

Vince shook his head and shrugged as he pulled a long face. "I have no power, no pull in this company. All I can do is clean up this mess and bar the door. But first, let me get you out of there."

Vince lowered himself to the floor, careful to avoid the liquid still covering it. With trembling fingers, he worked at the first band fastening Ian to the bars. The ribbed bands resisted the assistant's pull, and Ian winced as it dug into his flesh.

"Sorry, man."

Ian shook his head. "Do what you must to release me." When Vince pulled harder, Ian grunted in pain.

Vince glanced at him with concern and continued at his work. "Ian, I just want to say… you probably won't believe it, but I've always admired your people. You're amazing. Perfectly made, or as perfect as human-like life forms come anyway. I wouldn't ever have hurt any of you if it wasn't for them."

Ian's voice hardened. "You did. Many times over."

"We—we had to know—had to find out for the greater good." Vince squeezed his eyes shut. "It was my job. I was only doing what I was told."

"And so you killed," Ian shook his head. "The first thing any human thinks of doing. The last resort for a sane Atlantian. You could have just asked. I'm sure our scientists would answer all your questions."

Vince's jaw dropped. It clearly had never crossed his mind. Had it crossed anyone’s? "You have scientists?" he asked.

"How little you know. We are far more advanced than you if this lab is your average."

"Wow. I never thought…" Vince was done with the first restraint. He moved to the second one, his fingers steadier. The shock of his fall into the viral soup was wearing off.

The knot challenged Vince, but bit by bit, he loosened it. He tried swallowing a deep tickle starting in his throat. But instead, it built to a cough. At first light and breathy, it quickly turned to a wet hacking sound bending Vince in two.

When it was over, he straightened. Almost breathless, he stared at Ian with large, round eyes. "It's nothing, right? An anomaly?"

He touched his mask, reaching behind his head for the ties to remove it to find what Ian already knew was there. A scarlet-red spot of blood marred blinding whiteness of the cloth.

"I'm sorry," Ian said.

"No. No. This quick? It can't be. Maybe History has the cure. Maybe we could get it."

Ian stared at him. "Or you could save the rest of your people, your family, with the time you have left."

"How? Besides, it is contained here in this room."

"Is it?"

Vince paled. "I don't… I don't know. Is this the only vial?" He glanced at the door. "Devon ran out. Was he infected?" He ran a hand over his face. "How can I save all mankind when I can't even save myself? I can't think about this! I can only think of getting you out of here."

Vincent's phone buzzed, but he ignored it as he continued to work the thick knots. After a while, he sighed in irritation and stood. "Let me see if we have something that will cut these. It’s taking so long."

After searching the drawers and not finding anything suitable, he picked up the scalpel. Though small, it was the sharpest knife they had.

Vincent settled in beside Ian again and went to work. It went quicker but sawing through them still took time as he found they had small wires running through them. He finished the second one when the phone buzzed again, then chimed.

When he started on the third and final restraint on Ian's right arm, he commanded Siri to play the message. It was Nick. Vince's face brightened at the sound of his brother's voice.

"What is it?” Ian said.

"I think I know what—who will save us!"

"If you know, you must do it."

Vincent nodded as he sped up his pace at cutting the band. "My brother. He's a physicist. He studies—uhm—alternative means of travel."

"What do you mean?"

Vince gave a weak laugh. "Nick studies wormholes, cosmic strings, things like that." He waved away Ian's confusion. "I'd hardly believe it either, but I'm sitting here with someone who shouldn't exist. A person who had foreign DNA passed down from his ancestors, who comes from a sunken city. If I'm studying this phenomenon, who is to say Nick isn't studying another? It's really no more outrageous than my own."

Ian scowled. "What do you chatter about?"

Vince nervously looked at Ian. "Well, kind of like—travel through time?"

Ian tore away the last of the band as he reached through the bars and grabbed Vince's shoulder. His face bright. "Your brother. Is he the Traveler?"

Vince tried to move back, but Ian held on, so he didn't get far. "The Traveler? I don't know." He drew in a sharp breath. "But you mean you know about time travel?"

"Who does not? If your brother can help, if he is the Traveler, you must go to him."

"Huh," Vince rocked back on his heels. A tickle, rougher this time, worked its way up to his throat, and he fell into another coughing spasm.

Ian watched Vince before letting his gaze roam the cage he was in. His expression firmed with resolve. If it meant the fulfillment of their vow, he would die here. When Vince's coughing passed, he said, "You must go."

"I have to get you out. I promised."

"I do not want to be insensitive to your dilemma, but you have limited time. You must go and find your brother. Tell him everything. You must do it now before it is too late."

The two men stared at each other for a moment before Vincent handed Ian the scalpel and the keys to his prison. "Can you get out?"

"I will do my best."

"Devon said you could. At least, he was always worried you could."

"That explains his over-exuberance with the restraints." Ian gave a woeful chuckle.

"It explains a lot of things."

Vincent stood and retrieved another surgical mask. Maybe it would help stop him from spreading it to others. He turned to leave the room, then faced Ian again. "Wait. Exactly what does this Traveler do?"

"He gives us the cure."

"You? Why Atlantians?"

"He said humans would misuse it."

Vincent stared to the floor. "That is probably true. Problem is, I don't have the cure to give Nick."

Ian's eyes widened. "You must. Check the cooler Devon brought in."

Vincent rushed to the back room and opened it. Nothing. He checked the sample refrigerator and yelled into the other room, "Have you seen it? What did it look like?"

"I've only seen it once. A small, clear seven-sided cylinder with amber liquid."

"It's not here."

Ian roared as he pulled at his bonds. "No! This can't all be for nothing!"

Vince came back to the main lab. "I can talk to my brother. He can get whatever he needs ready. Can someone get the cure?"

"We don't even know where it is!"

"It's at the History Museum. It has to be. There's a hidden lab there too. Go to the basement, walk to the other end of the storage. There is a secret door beside a huge stuffed buffalo. Go in guns, or whatever you have, blazing. They won't expect that. There's some security, but not a lot."

Vincent whipped his phone out of his pocket and pushed a few buttons. "It's unlocked. My brother's name is Nick Hartman. Stay in touch with him using this." He looked from Ian to the cell phone with doubt. "Do you know how to use—"

"Of course, I do. I am not an imbecile."

"Okay, okay, I didn't know. Didn't know if you were familiar with it, not that you weren't intelligent." Vince straightened and tucked his shaking hands in his folded arms. "I'm going to do this. After everything I've done, I'm going to make it right."

Ian agreed, "You will. I have the utmost confidence in you."

The two men nodded at each other.

As Vince turned for the door, Ian said, "I wish you an easy death."

"As do I, brother, as do I."

Thirty-Two

Deadly

Chapter Thirty-Two

Sonora tiptoed down the hallway, startling when a door closed, and shoes squeaked toward her against the tile floor. Quickly, she searched for a door to duck into. She'd already evaded someone else by hiding in an empty office, but when she twisted the handle on the nearest room this time, it was locked.

The slap of shoes quickened. Sonora hurried toward another door.

Vincent rounded the corner, windmilling and back-peddling when he almost ran into her. He scowled at her over his white surgical mask. "What the—? What are you doing here? Devon will be furious."

She stammered and looked around like she was lost.

Vincent shook his head and lost his frown. Fear now covered his features. "Look, you need to get out of here. There's some very dangerous stuff back there. Deadly. Go back. Run."

His wide berth puzzled Sonora, and he threw her a glance over his shoulder as he quickly moved down the hall. "Run!" he ordered her.

Sonora trembled at his order. She wanted to; she really did. Clearly, the man was alarmed about something.

But Ian was here. She knew it, and she wasn't going to leave until she found him.

Sonora squared her shoulders and continued down the hallway the direction Vincent had come. She moved as quietly as possible. Maybe Ian was the 'dangerous stuff' the assistant had meant. Under the right circumstances, she was sure he could be dangerous.

Even as Vincent and his squealing shoes faded, Sonora's ears still amplified every sound. Each ping of the air system and creak of the building made her wonder if someone waited behind the next wall to jump at her.

She tried to further quiet the tap, tap, tap of her own shoes echoing through the hall. Fear caused her breathing to shallow, and soon, she strained to hear over her own gasping breaths.

A loud shuddering bang from the ventilation system caused Sonora to jump and put her hand to her heart. She chided herself while rubbing the ache her fear had left behind.

Sonora saw a faint light ahead. She hauled in a deep breath as she questioned the sanity of what she was doing.

Reaching the lit window, she grasped the edge and peeked in. This room was still used. It was filled with equipment.

She pushed at the door, and it moved a few inches. There was no stir in the room. She opened it further and slipped through the slim opening, shutting it behind her

It was a long room, and she stood at one end. To her left was a desk, and to her right was a long line of caged lab animals. Sonora peeked into the pens. Mice, rabbits, snakes, lizards, even a small bird or two. The cages started out small and grew in size.

From the far end of the room, she heard a low sound, something like sawing. Sonora stepped lightly to avoid the clamoring frightened animals. Running a light hand down a countertop stacked with every kind of science equipment, her fingers skimmed over something metal. A taser. She snatched her hand back and frowned. Poor animals.

A metal table stood in the center of the room, like the kind used in a morgue. Sonora shuddered.

At the dark end of the room were the largest pens. One held a sleeping chimp.

The other—a man?

Sonora's eyes narrowed. The sawing noise came from that cage. She watched, her mind refusing to make sense of what she saw. But there was no mistaking the faint shimmer of the tattoo running over the back of his shoulder even in this low light.

Sonora's heart fell.

Ian!

Her hands flew to her mouth. Her beautiful man tied to a cage like an animal. Tears flooded her eyes.

Ian stilled as her empathy wash over him. His grip on the scalpel tightened. So preoccupied with his escape, he hadn't sensed her approach.

Ian groaned and hung his head. No! Not his Beloved! This place had already taken so much from him. Not her too. "Edinara, I told you to run. Hours ago, I told you to go."

Sonora gasped and rushed to him, falling to her knees beside the cage. "I could never leave you!"

Ian's heart swelled with her words. He reached an arm through the bars, holding her the best he could. Sonora threaded her arms through the metal and grabbing him and putting her head to his. Her warm tears rolled from her face to his.

"Don't yell at me for being here," she said softly, then kissed his cheek. "Don't ever, ever yell at me for coming for you.”

No doubt, her bare skin had already touched the serum still drenching the floor. It was probably too late, but if there were any chance at all, he had to try. "My heart, there is danger here. A virus is in this room and in me. It is designed to kill Atlantians and will almost certainly kill humans. You need to leave."

"I will not. I came to find you, and I have. The last thing I'm going to do is leave without you."

"You could die. I won't have it."

"You are in a cage! Tied up like a—like a—I don't know what. And skinny, so skinny," she said, her expression sad as she ran her hand over the bones in his back. "I won't have that."

Sonora sniffed, wiped at her tears, and sighed. "Besides, it sounds like I'm infected already. Now, let me help you. Please."

Ian laid his forehead against the bars. What Sunny said was true. He gave her a sad smile. "At least we will spend our last moments together."

She put a hand on each side of his face. "Stop it. This is not my last moment. Start sawing those things again. I'll look for another knife."

"Some people would consider it romantic we have this time together."

Sonora banged cupboards open and shut until she found what she was searching for. She held a knife up in triumph. "It's not. It's stupid! It's stupid to think like that. We aren't dead till we're dead."

Ian raised an eyebrow at her and grinned. "That's my girl! You have kept me sustained these long dark days, Jata Ara."

A teardrop splashed the floor. "I'm sorry." Sunny returned to her knees and started to work on one of the bands holding Ian. "I'm so, so sorry." A sob escaped her. "I didn't—still don't understand this connection thing. I should have found you sooner."

Her connection was puny, but this was not the time to tell her. "You did well."

Sonora shook her head. "I did not. I disappointed you already. Horribly. I've been a terrible Intended, and I suspect will be just as bad of a wife."

His wife. She said she would be his. Happiness blazed through him. They had to survive—somehow—if only long enough to speak the vows uniting them.

Ian reached a hand to the back of her neck and pulled her to him. He kissed her forehead. "And I will cherish every day of our horrible life."

Sonora half sobbed, and half laughed. "You're an idiot."

He chuckled. "Probably."

They burst through two of the restraints, leaving two more. When Sunny moved to the next one, Ian stopped her. "Let me try to break them."

It took more effort than he wanted to admit. Even though his beloved's eyes were round with the showy display of strength, Ian shook his head as he gasped from the effort. He was little more than a babe in arms.

He fished the keys from the floor and stuck one in the lock, trying to ignore how they rattled in his shaky hands. Sunny moved to help him, but he stopped her. This was something he needed to do himself.

Ian shoved the cage door open and crawled out, pushing himself up on unsteady legs. He held onto the bars one last time to keep himself upright.

"Are you okay?" Sunny's expression turned to worry as she moved beside him and tried to support him.

"Yes. Give me a moment." His drug-addled brain seemed as unsteady as his feet. "Exercise has been limited." He hadn't moved more than a few feet, including the walk to the metal table or the shower, since he'd arrived. Definitely, nothing that would prepare him for escape.

Sonora stared up at him. "Ian, are you… drugged?"

"The drugs were not a choice."

"No. Of course not. It's just—are you able to do this? Get out of here? Or should we find a place to hide?"

Ian looked down at her with a stern expression. "Make no mistake. We are leaving here. Now, get the cell phone sitting on the floor of that." He waved at the cage.

Sonora looked in the barred enclosure and saw the cellphone on the far side. She threw a puzzled look at Ian. Where in the world had he gotten a phone? She bent and stepped across the lip of his prison to retrieve it.

Once inside, she froze. Even she had to crouch. She couldn't imagine spending one day here, let alone weeks, and she was so much smaller than him. Her gaze swept Ian's body. He had scars now, not as many as her grandfather, but a lot. What had they done to him?

"Ian," Sonora asked, glancing at him, "how long were you in here?"

"Come out of there now. It hurts to see you in there. We must go." He pulled her arm as he eyed the window to the hallway. "And get the taser off the countertop."

Sonora stopped in her tracks. "I'm not touching that."

He threw her a grave look. "Get it, woman."

"Why do we need it?"

"Because we don't trust anyone here. Not anyone at all. Do you understand?"

Sonora nodded. Her hand hovered over it for a minute, then she grabbed it. She handed it to Ian and moved under his arm to help him.

Ian hugged Sunny to his side. To hold her again was something he had despaired of, and now she was here. It reinforced how empty he had been without her.

"Beloved." Ian's gaze revealed how his heart warmed. "It is a supreme joy to have you by my side."

Sonora beamed up at him. "It is a supreme joy to be here." She laid her head on his chest for a moment. "Now, let's get out of this place.”

Thirty-Three

Escape

Chapter Thirty-three

Ian and Sonora hurried down the hallway as fast as they could, given Ian’s weakened condition. He questioned the reality of everything he saw. It all seemed surreal. He had hoped movement would lessen the hold the drugs had over him. It appeared to do the opposite. Was Sunny really here, helping him escape? Or as this simply another imagined fantasy?

He tightened his arm around her until she protested. Real then.

Ian broke out into a sweat. They needed to move faster. Devon could be back at any time, calling his thugs to muscle him back into the cage. If the scientist found him this far from the lab, his suffering would be… He groaned and shuddered.

Sunny looked up at him, worry in her eyes. “Are you okay?” Her words echoed down the long corridor. She looked around and lowered her voice. “Am I doing something wrong?”

Talking brought him back to reality like a splash of cold water. “I am fine. But please, continue to speak with me.” Ian glanced at the bare hallway walls and empty offices. “Where are we going?”

“This is the way I came,” Sonora whispered. “There is a hidden door up here, leading to the common areas near the entrance of the Marine Center. If we get through that, we will be safe. There’s a lot of people out there. No one can hurt you there. Grandpa’s in the car, waiting.”

Ian nodded and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. He wasn’t far from the sea and safety. Anticipation welled up.

Sonora pointed. “It’s just up ahead, around that corner.”

That was good because his strength continued to fade. Ian’s muscles seemed to leak power rather than propel him forward, and he drifted in and out of a gray world. Soon he would be on the floor, unconscious.

He looked down at his little woman. She would never be able to help him up.

Ian kissed the top of her head, admiring the set of her jaw. He grinned. She was determined. If resolve could get him off the floor, she would manage it.

Sonora flashed him an irritated look. “Stop that. We are running for our lives. Now is not the time to go all go0gly-eyed.”

“You are a stern woman.”

“You are a high man.”

“Thank you.”

Sonora rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t mean what you apparently think it does. Now concentrate.”

Ian chuckled. “Yes, my lady.”

“Your father was here.”

Ian felt a bolt of shock go through him. Though he knew his father had been on land at some point, he couldn’t remember him ever doing so. “Here? He was here?”

“Yes, looking for you. I thought you were still in Atlantis until he showed up here.”

“Where is he now?”

“When he saw you were kidnapped, he went back for reinforcements. But I couldn’t wait.”

“Foolish woman.” Ian patted her head with both affection and worry. “This could have all been done for you. Your life is in danger now. The virus.”

“I sensed your sorrow and despair. I couldn’t let you spend one more second like that. I just couldn’t.” Sonora pulled him closer. “But Jorah should be back soon. He said he is bringing all the power of Atlantis with him.”

Ian stopped and pulled back from Sunny, looking at her. “Father said that? Those exact words.”

Sonora nodded.

“Come. We must meet Father’s army.” His eyes narrowed. “Those evildoers will not know what hit them.”

Something in the back of Ian’s fuzzy mind picked at him, but he was distracted by the news of his father. The small buzz roared a full warning, but it was too late. They turned the corner.

And were face to face with Devon.

Thirty-Four

Revelation

Chapter Thirty-Four

Relief poured through Sonora. “Oh, Uncle Devon! Thank goodness. We need help.” She waved him closer with her one free hand.

Devon paled. “I’ve tried to keep you and your sister away from this.”

Sonora’s attention was on Ian as she tightened her hold on him when he swayed on his feet. “Uncle Devon. Help me. He’s going to fall.”

Her uncle patted his pockets and darted a glance up the corridor toward the lab. “This is a nightmare.”

Ian stiffened, his muscles like iron. The grip he had on Sonora’s shoulder began to sting. “Yes, it is, Uncle. Someone has been… hurting Ian. We need to get him out of here!”

“You are a monster,” Ian growled at Devon, lurching toward him. “With my bare hands, I will end your life!”

Sonora’s eyes widened as she clung to him. It was the drugs talking. “Ian! This is my uncle.”

“I know well who he is. He is my torturer.”

Sonora glanced up at Ian. “Love, the drugs are confusing you. He’s going to help us leave.” Sonora took a step and tugged on Ian, but he didn’t budge. She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t like she could drag him down the hallway.

Devon flashed a look from his niece to Ian. “You can have your freedom. I will make sure no one ever touches you again. Just go. Do you understand?”

Ian’s face twisted. “I wish to see your broken carcass underneath my feet.”

“Ian!” Sonora absent-mindedly scolded him as she worked at getting him to move one foot in front of the other in the right direction. It was slow going.

Ian ignored Sonora, his fiery eyes intent on Devon. “I would never leave her in your care.”

Devon puffed out his chest. “I have always taken care of her, of them, all of them. The others wanted them, but I stopped it. Nothing will ever harm her.”

“So, you save your evil experiments for the rest of us?”

Eyes narrowing, Devon spit his words. “She is not one of you!”

Sonora blinked. The men’s angry words braking through her concentration

She looked at her uncle, a man she’d cared about her entire life. She knew everything about him, didn’t she?

Instead of being a support for Ian, Sonora now clung to him. Her hand moved to his back, accidentally landing on one of his many scars. Could her uncle be the monster who did this?

Numb, her voice trembling, she asked, “Uncle?” Even to herself, Sonora sounded like a lost, scared child. “Uncle Devon?”

Devon closed his eyes, wincing. He stepped toward Sonora, but Ian jerked her back. “Sunny,” Devon pleaded, “you’re like a daughter to me. You have to understand, little niece, they aren’t like us. They aren’t human. Surely, you can see that. It’s no different than the experiments I do on the mice or the lizards. They don’t feel like we do. I have the scientific data to back it up.”

Sonora gasped, raising a hand to her mouth.

Desperation hastened Devon’s explanation. “I know what you’re thinking, you are—you have some DNA like them. Don’t worry, I’ve forgiven you that long ago. You couldn’t help how you were born.”

Sonora shook her head, unable to reconcile her uncle with the man who had done this to Ian. Her mind spun with shock and disgust. “But—but, I love you,” Sonora whispered. “How could you do this?”

“Because they are evil! One of them murdered my parents when I was a young child. I cowered under the bed and watched him viciously murder them. Grieving, my uncle raised a group to hunt them. But it became more than that. The things we have learned—”

Outraged, Ian practically spat at him, “Taken from us. From our very flesh and blood!”

Devon eyed the Atlantian but found little threat from a man who was still unsteady on his feet. Instead, he continued to work on Sonora. “The results have been amazing. Vaccines for smallpox, polio, and even the flu have been developed with their help. And now we are so close with cancer and heart disease. Think of the number of people who are alive today because of what we’ve done. A few men have been… used, so that thousands could live. It’s the way it has always been, Sunny!”

A tear worked its way over the rim of Sonora’s eye and trailed down her cheek.

“Stop,” Ian said to Devon.

But Devon couldn’t stop. He needed to explain. “I’ve protected your family from the beginning. I wanted your Aunt Claire before I knew what she was. When I found out, I couldn’t turn her over to them. So I struck a deal. I would be part of your family and report how the Atlantian’s decendents interacted with each other and humans as well as many other things.”

“No! Please say you didn’t to that,” Sonora cried.

“Honey, it kept you alive, protected you. Do you know how many times they wanted all of you in a lab? How many times I came up with some reason that couldn’t happen? I kept you safe. Me.”

Ian’s eyes narrowed. “Name these others you speak of?”

Devon glared at Ian for his interruption. “We don’t have formal names. It’s easier to stay hidden that way. They are just the History Museum group. They call the shots.”

Devon dismissed him, turning back to his niece. “I understand that you may have some—affection for him.” He tipped his head to Ian. “For you, I’ll let him go, back to the vile place he comes from. Just step aside.”

Sonora’s sick stomach threatened her throat. “It’s not a vile place! It is beautiful and amazing. They knew who—what I was, and they treated me well. Amazing, if you consider how humans treat them.”

“You have been there. I suspected as much.” Devon’s gaze moved to the floor, and Sonora hoped he was ashamed. “In return for their good treatment of you, this one will go home. Everyone gets something they want.” He waved her to himself.

“No. Uncle Devon. I’m going with Ian.”

“I cannot allow that, Sonora,” Devon said, with the firm voice he’d used when she misbehaved as a child. “That is not going to happen. I will make sure every cell of him is destroyed before I allow that.”

Ian raised himself from Sonora’s support, doing his best to stand tall.

Devon took the only opportunity he would get. Rushing to Sonora, he wrapped his hand around her upper arm, dragging her down the corridor. Ian cursed, and lumbered behind them, still unsteady on his feet.

“Stop it!” Sonora shrieked, struggling. “Please.”

“I need to get you away from him for you to understand. I’m the good guy here. I’ve held it all together when it could have come crumbling apart.”

Something hard shoved Devon to the ground, and his grip on Sonora tightened. It wrenched her arm and slammed her to the hard floor. Bones and muscles screamed in protest. Ian pushed her away from Devon. She laid stunned as Ian’s massive fist swung above her, landing on her uncle’s face.

Ian grabbed the taser from the floor beside Sunny and shoved it at Devon, allowing it to do its job. He watched Devon twitch. It wasn’t satisfying enough.

His gaze traveled to Sonora. She was stunned from the fall, but okay. Ian gave her another small shove to provide himself with some room and flipped Devon over. Standing over his enemy, one foot on each side of him, Ian raised his fist and let it fly.

Devon’s eyes widened, and he turned his head away. It didn’t matter. The blow would still rattle his brain.

Ian grabbed Devon’s shirt and hauled him up, giving himself a better angle to beat the man. Devon pushed at the hand holding him and worked his legs against the floor, frantic to get away before the next blow hit.

But he wouldn’t. Once again, Devon tried to shield himself. His cry echoed down the hall and back.

“Stop,” Devon tried to order.

“Like you stopped when I asked the same of you? You treated me as no more than a mollusk on the seabed. Now you will see how it feels.”

Devon’s gaze flicked to Sunny and back. “She will never stay with you, you know. Not unless you chain her to you. Then she will despise you.”

Ian’s gaze went to Sunny as she slowly pushed herself up from the floor. “You do not know what you are saying.” He raised his fist higher.

“I do. My wife is half-Atlantian. You know that. We have forever tried to be more than we were able, and we hate each other for it. Sonora can’t be what you want her to be. Ever. She will disappoint you at every turn, until you hate the sight of her, hate the day you met her. And she, you.”

Ian felt sick. This man knew how to twist his mind. He tried to ignore Devon, push his words away, but they kept coming. “Still, you will stay together, because what else will you be able to do? You will have taken her away from everything she loved up here long ago. You and she will go on like that until she dies an old crone while you are still as young as you are now. And you will still mourn her as your mate because that is what your DNA tell you to do.”

Devon fired his last few words. “I’m right. You already know I’m right.”

“No!” Ian drew back his fist and threw a mighty blow. The impact push Devon across the floor, near Sonora.

Devon slid to a stop. “Something feels wrong,” he murmured, unable to move his jaw.

“It’s okay,” Sonora said, her eyes rounded in disbelief as she bent toward him. “We’ll get you—”

She looked up at Ian as he stalked over. “No, Ian! No! He’s had enough. Look at him! And he’ll go to jail for all he’s done.”

Devon scrambled up as fast as he could, his feet sliding on the shiny tile. Sonora reached to steady him.

Ian advanced, his fiery rage not nearly quenched, though he was slower with each step as his body began to fail him again.

Devon tried to say something to Sunny but winced. Something was wrong with his face. With his whole head, actually. His brain continued to swirl from the battering he’d received. All he knew is that he had to save Sunny.

“No,” she said. “No, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to go with you.”

Devon glanced behind him. The abomination was breathing fire and death. A giant of a man coming at him and Sunny. With trembling hands, he pushed Sunny behind him.

Sunny struggled forward, but he shoved her back again. He wouldn’t let that thing have her. Not his beloved niece.

He prepared himself to battle the giant Atlantian for her.

When Sunny tried to come around Devon again, the big man was almost upon him. He needed to keep her behind him. He gave her a mighty heave backward.

Sunny flew back, her head smacking the wall.

Devon heard the crack of Sonora’s skull. It reverberated through him the same way his mother’s had on the day she died. His stomach twisted, and he gagged.

The Atlantian stopped, his eyes wide.

Devon was afraid to look but needed to help her. He swung around. The images of his mother and Sonora overlaid each other in his mind until he couldn’t breathe. What had he done?

Sunny’s body slid down the wall, leaving a trail of blood behind.

Thirty-Five

The Best Thing

Chapter Thirty-Five

Devon reached out to his niece. Ian shoved him aside. There was no way that mad scientist was going to touch his Jata Ara.

With a far gentler hand than many would consider him capable, Ian crouched and gathered Sunny up. He wrapped himself around her, his gaze roving her limp body. He turned and roared at Devon. "You've killed her! Wasn't the horror you inflicted on me and my kind enough? You had to take her too?"

Devon shook his head back and forth. Tears flooded his eyes as Sonora's head lolled against Ian's arm, and he uttered a loud, expressive groan. If the man had been anyone else, Ian would've felt for him. But this man had earned no pity from him. Devon turned and fled down the hallway.

Ian laid his head close to Sunny's, waiting for the grief to overtake him. At least, he had a few moments with her in quietness before the black overtook him. When some time passed, he frowned. This seemed too long. Could she be?

Carefully, Ian reached for her. It wouldn't do to overwhelm her already damaged body. She groaned.

A blazing light warmed Ian. She was alive!

Ian pulled Sonora higher so he could feel her breath on his neck. He stood, trying to ignore the blood covering the hand he had beneath her head. At a crossroads in the hallways, he wasn't sure where they'd come from. Should he follow Devon, or would that lead further into this dungeon? Desperation colored his voice. “Edinara, I do not know which way to go."

With no response from Sunny, he peered from one hallway to another. Rage had seemed to burn the drugs away. He just needed a direction.

Sonora's eyes blinked open. She gasped and narrowed them against the brightness. Then pointed and whispered, "There. Across from a room full of cases, there is a hidden door. I left it open a little."

Sunny closed her eyes and let her head fall against him, and Ian rushed down the hallway.

There it was! He could see the door, only a small bump in the wall. He pulled it open with his foot and bullied through the cleaning closet with thumps and clatters.

Bursting into the hallway, Ian's stomach relaxed when he saw a mother and two small children walking toward a restroom. The woman pulled the little one tight to her side, and the children looked at him with big eyes. The scars on him would be enough to scare them, let alone his size or the fact he held an injured woman. The mother's gaze went to Ian's chest. He was barely dressed according to human standards.

But he had no time to worry about what they thought. "Woman! How do I leave this building?"

She paled.

"Please, woman! She is injured."

At last, she seemed to realize what he needed and tipped her head in the direction. "That way and to the left. Do you want an ambulance?"

Ian was already moving past her.

Once in the lobby, he could see the outer doors. There was a trail of gasps and whispers as he rushed past.

"Sir! Sir! Do you need help?" A young security guard rushed over, eager to perform his duties.

Ian ignored him.

"Sir! If that happened here, we need to take care of it. You can't just leave."

Ian barely gave the guard a thought. He would do what he wanted. He continued his race for the front doors.

"Sir! You must stop! I can't let you go until this is straightened out.”

Ian couldn't let anyone stop him. When the guard fumbled with a taser, Ian's rage flared. A fist to the young man's face, and he dropped without a sound. But there were two more behind him.

Ian ran for the door, Sonora cried out as her head bounced against his arm. Her hand dug into him like small claws.

The others gained on him, tasers at the ready.

Ian could hear more pounding steps and glanced over his shoulder. He growled when he saw tasers in the guard's hands. Did everyone in this air-addled world have the desire to hurt others?

"Caspian!" Ian jerked his gaze forward as the men behind him slowed. His father stood at the doors along with a line of people. His people and Blake. He sagged with relief at the sight of their armor and ready weapons. He was safe now!

Ian rushed to a beckoning Blake. The old man yelled out, "Call 911 now! Sonora needs an ambulance!"

Most of the crowd stayed locked on the odd sight of the Atlantians, but Blake's call shook a few into action.

"No!" Ian said. "I want to take her to Atlantis."

"You can't take her to Atlantis, Ian," Blake said. “She won't make it."

Ian wanted away from here. He wasn't sure his under the sea home was even far enough. "Father, did you bring a healer?"

"Son," Jorah said, his expression falling. "We do not know if humans can use it. I do not think your beloved should be the first."

A worker rushed over. "I know some first aid. I have some bandages to press against the bleeding."

Ian allowed the man to put a cloth over Sonora's wound. She winced and groaned as he did so, and her hands tightened on Ian. But when he was done, she settled back into Ian's arms. "You are a brave woman, Edinara. So very brave."

She gave him a small smile.

There were a few flashes, and when no one objected, light exploded from the other side of the room. The crowd was awestruck. In their strong, yet flexible dark-blue armor, the Atlantians would be unlike anything the humans had seen. The armed warriors stood side by side, unwilling to let anyone pass. Their weapons were now holstered, but their scowls kept most everyone at bay.

One security guard taking his job too seriously caused two Atlantians to draw their weapons. Sonora reached up and wrapped her hand in Ian's hair, using it to pull his face closer. "Don't hurt them," she whispered.

"Do not worry, Sunny," Ian assured her. "The weapons will stun them, with far less fury and pain than your tasers. They will merely fall to the ground, asleep and out of our way."

Jorah turned to the crowd. "Do not be afraid. We are your neighbors from the sea, and we have come for my son. My people have been abused by yours for decades. We now know who is accountable, and it will end today." He pointed at the security guards. "If you object, you will feel the bite of our weapons." Both guards put their hands up in surrender and backed away.

The wail of an ambulance reached them, and Ian closed his eyes. Please, let them help his beloved.

A few hours later, Sonora's eyes fluttered open to clean white walls, crisp white sheets. The hospital. There was a stir beside her, and carefully, she turned her head. Ian sat on the bed on the other side of the curtain, the divider partially pulled between them. His gaze immediately turned to her.

Without regard for the nurse, or the work she was trying to do, he leaped from the bed. The woman followed him as he made his way to Sonora.

Heedless of the nurse's adamant cries calling for him to stop, Ian came straight for her, grinning. "Sunny!"

"I'm fine now, you silly man." Sonora smiled as he hovered over her, lightly kissing each cheek, her forehead, then her lips. "You're in the middle of getting fixed up, let the nurse do her work."

"She can do it here."

The nurse rolled her eyes. "You’ve got a mule of a man here. I don't envy you." Her eyes roved Ian's still half-naked body. "Well, most of the time, anyway."

"I know," Sonora said with a long-suffering sigh. "Most days, I don't know what to do with him either."

"Stop, woman." Ian lovingly ran a finger down Sonora's cheek. "I am the best thing that has happened to you."

Sonora giggled. That may be true, but she wasn't going to let him know that.

When the nurse finished and left, Sonora asked, "The disease, the one you said we were infected with?"

Ian took Sonora's hand. "They have examined your blood many times, but they say they find no infection in it. But I would be happier if our own people worked on this." At Sonora's worried expression, Ian kissed her hand. "However, my lovely lady, I saw what it did to the human, Vincent. Within minutes of exposure to such a concentrated source, he was coughing blood. A lot of it. There is no sign of that with you."

"And you?"

"I will not let a needle near me. Not after what happened in that lab. The massive needles shoved through my body…” He looked away, clearing his throat, and Sonora took his hand. "I could not even stomach the tiny ones they used on you. But I show no signs. And Father says we have nothing to worry about. He knows much more about this than I do."

The corners of Sonora's mouth curled upward in a wide grin of joy. Ian bent to kiss her. After, her gaze traveled Ian's face. Now they could live, and she would help him heal. It was clear Ian suffered emotionally from what happened. Because of her uncle. She was determined to help Ian get rid of every memory, no matter how long it took. She ran a hand down his arm to entwine their hands.

"Does he?" she asked.

"He is on the council. I was merely tasked with finding the box. The council knows things about the disease and the cure the rest of us do not. I was not sure this was the disease. Father says it is. And that they will give it a name, AgFlu."

Thirty-Six

Reeling

Chapter Thirty-Six

A lump of ice grew in the pit of Sonora's stomach. Was this really happening? Her grasp on Ian's hand tightened. "I can't believe humans are really going to destroy themselves."

"I can," Ian replied. "It is what humans do best. Look at their history."

She shot him a sour look. "You need to cut us some slack. Most especially, because I don't want to continually hear that we are second-class citizens."

Ian frowned. "You are not human. You are Atlantian."

Sonora crossed her arms. "Who is three-quarters human."

Ian looked away.

Sonora repeated, "Who is three-quarters human."

"Yes, I know."

"So...?"

Ian sighed. "I do not see you as I see them. But if it makes you happy. Humans are not second-class citizens. They just need our help. A lot."

Sonora rolled her eyes. "Ian, I really think it is not that easy. You can't just say it, and suddenly your mind is changed."

"No. It will take time, but it will eventually change."

Sonora bit her lip, then said, "I just worry sometimes what life will be like in Atlantis for me."

"Father and I have already addressed this with the council. And the members will pass it on to the clans. Any humans that come to Atlantis are to be treated with the utmost respect."

Relief washed over Sonora. "I can't tell you how glad I am to hear that. I want us to be happy despite our differences."

Ian laid his forehead against hers. "We will be, Edinara. We are."

Sonora brought her gaze to his, letting it linger there. "I love you so much. More than I ever thought possible."

A sheen of tears came over his eyes. Ian tried to speak but stopped to clear his throat. He gave a tiny shake of his head, trying to clear the emotions overwhelming him. "My Intended, my soul, my heart, my life. You are all to me."

Carefully, Ian wrapped his arms around her, lifting her slightly despite her protesting squeak. A slash of pain went through her head, but Sonora didn't care. She ached for what was coming.

He was slow about it, taking his time as his gaze caressed every inch of her face. Scarlett heat warmed her features by the time he was done. He moved closer, and finally she could feel his breath fanning her cheek. Then the warmth on her lips. Sonora moved toward him, anticipating the feel of his mouth on hers. Ian smirked and put a thumb to her sensitive lips.

He was so in control, it irritated her. It also made her want his kiss all the more. She moaned when Ian ran his fingers through her hair, bringing it to him and taking a whiff. He closed his eyes. "You smell like springtime and light," he whispered.

Her heart, already doing double time, increased its pace. She grabbed Ian's hair and tugged, trying to get him closer. "Come here. Stop playing with me."

Ian uttered a deep chuckle that seemed to rumble through her. "Playing is half the fun."

"Ian," she pleaded.

He took pity on her then. His eyes twinkling as he moved closer. They groaned as their lips met, and warmth swept up and down her as his kiss deepened. Then she melted. Just melted into almost nothing, except for the heat of his lips moving against hers.

When they broke apart, worry began to poke holes in Sonora's happiness. When she frowned, Ian asked, "What could possibly be concerning you?"

Sonora's mouth twisted into a sad smile. “Is what my uncle said true? Will I be enough for you? Since I'm not as good at Atlantian… well, anything?"

A troubled look covered his face. "Edinara, you still act like I have a choice. I had no choice, nor would I want one. You are my Intended, my Jata Ara. I have known it from the moment my eyes fell upon you."

He shook his head. "Perhaps I have not explained this correctly. We are paired because we are perfect for one another. You will always be enough for me because you are my perfect mate." He ran a finger down Sonora's cheek. "I am as good as dead without you by my side. I am sure I want you. There is no doubt."

After giving her a beaming smile, Ian continued, "All couples have their tsunamis to swim. These will be ours, and at least we know of them now. Any differences we have, we will overcome. I know that."

A nurse rattled through the door dragging a blood pressure monitor.

Ian frowned. "Go away. We have much to discuss."

The nurse glanced at him but cheerfully said, "I'm sorry, but it is time—"

"Go now!" Ian's voice boomed around the room. "I will tell you when you may enter."

The nurse squeaked and ran out, leaving her machine behind.

"Ian!" Sonora said with a huff and a twinkle in her eye. "Did you turn your voice thing on to do that?"

"Yes, I do not wish to be disturbed."

Trying to hold back a giggle, Sonora waved her hand at the empty doorway. "Don't you think that was a little bossy?"

"No. I merely told the woman what we needed."

Sonora mumbled under her breath. "No, that is being bossy, and we both know you are very good at that."

Ian chuckled. "You know I can hear you?"

Louder, she said, "Can you please treat my family nicely? Can you thank the nurses and not act like they are your servants?

Ian ran his fingers through the ends of Sonora's hair. He ignored the slap of her hand and her sharp, "Are you listening to me?"

"If that makes you happy, of course," he said and grinned. "I have treated your family nicely. Half of them are criminals, you know. How politely do you expect me to—"

"Ian!"

The nurse returned. She stood in the doorway for a moment, gathering her courage before she squared her shoulders. "I'm sorry, but I must insist. We need to monitor Ms. Reeves condition closely. I'm sure you want to make sure she's doing well." She cleared her throat and looked at the wall and ceiling before letting her gaze come back to them.

Sonora whispered to Ian, "Look what you did! You frightened her."

"She frightens easily."

"You are a large over-bearing man. Now go apologize!"

Ian laughed. "You are worse than my mother."

A satisfied smile settled on her face. "Good! Now go."

Ian crossed the room to the nurse. Her gaze seemed to dart everywhere as she avoided him.

Gently, Ian took her hands in his. "I would like to apologize for my rude and overbearing behavior. You are, of course, doing everything you can for my beloved, and I wish you to know that I will always remember you and your tender care of her. I would be grateful if you forgave me."

A red flush lit up the nurse's face. When Ian let go of her hands, she put them to her pink cheeks and giggled. She walked back into the hallway, then back toward the room, before giggling again and leaving.

Ian turned and looked at Sonora with one eyebrow raised. "See, I can be nice."

Sonora felt the edge of jealousy and put her hands to her hips. "Well, that was overdone. She's reeling. She can't even think straight."

Ian sauntered back to Sonora's side. "If only I could put you in a similar state. Are you never happy with me?"

Sonora made room for him on the bed and waved him to her arms. She snuggled against him, enjoying the feel of his muscled arms holding her. She tipped her face up to his. "Happier than I should be," she said. "Happier than I have any right to be. Happier than I'd ever dreamed I could be."

Ian's face lit up as they sensed each other's joy. There would be no more question of what would happen between them, the future was set. They were Intended, Jata Ara. It was the way it should be.

As Ian moved in for another kiss, Sonora whispered, "Leaving me reeling is not a problem you ever have, love."

Thirty-Seven

Your Name

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The world came back to Ian with a crash. Something metal clanked against the tile floor in the hallway. He jerked away from Sonora but relaxed once the nurses clapped and laughed over whatever had caused the ruckus. He looked down at Sonora, happy to see she was far more flustered than the nurse had been. The first goal had been completed.

He wondered how long he could keep her in this wide-eyed state and pulled her closer. Her blue eyes sparkled as he closed in on her. She pulled on the back of his neck to urge him along.

When their lips were so close they inhaled each other’s breath, an “A-hem” came from the door. Ian’s gaze flew toward the sound. In the doorway stood Jorah and Blake.

Sonora quickly sat up, putting a hand to her head. She pushed Ian. “Get out!” she hissed.

“Easy, woman. You wound me.”

Blake laughed at Ian’s hurt face. “Public displays of affection are often frowned on here.”

“I see,” Ian said as he tossed Sonora a sad glance. That explained a lot.

“In Atlantis,” Jorah explained to Sonora. “We encourage courtship behavior, though a couple is joined before they get so…” He waved his hand over her.“…horizontal.”

Sonora’s already red face flamed, and she slowly sunk down into the bed, pulling the sheet over her head.

“Have you joined without us, Caspian?” An audible groan came from Sonora. “Joined, mated, united, alliance, I forget what they call it in this land.”

“Marriage,” Blake said.

“No, Father, we are not married,” Ian said, using the human word to spare Sonora some embarrassment.

“Good,” Jorah said. “You would have sorely disappointed your mother. She has been planning her wedding for months now. It is a favorite of the Orca ceremonies, you know.”

“What?” Sonora whipped the sheet from her head. “She has planned my wedding? For months?”

“Of course, guppy,” Jorah said. “She hoped you would come to your senses.”

“What?” she said, flinging out her hands.

Blake moved to his granddaughter. “I think what Jorah means it that you would understand your senses. Like Atlantians do.”

Ian wasn’t sure that was what his father had meant since they’d thought Sonora was fully human at the time, but he wasn’t going to stir up any trouble. Ian took Sonora’s flailing hand. “Hush now, Beloved. Mother does not forget the wedding is yours. Anything you desire, you will have.”

“But—”

Before she could continue, six of Jorah’s large guards squeezed into the room. “Humans with weapons come,” a large blond one said. “They act as though they have some sort of authority. My trips to land have been few, and in other areas, so I am unfamiliar with this land.”

“It is fine,” Jorah said. “It seems we merely need to show ourselves for them to comply. Though I wish humans were not so enthralled with pictures.”

A group of officers arrived at the door. Two managed to enter. The others remained outside. All seemed uncomfortable as they eyed the Atlantians.

“We need to speak to Ms. Reeves, and… the… gentleman about what happened at the Marine Center.” He looked at the weapons the guards carried but said nothing.

“Sir,” the one who seemed to be the lead officer said as he got out a tablet. “Could I have your name?”

“Caspian is my full name, though many call me Ian.”

“And your last name?”

Ian looked at his father, who shrugged, then at Blake. “I have no last name.”

The officer tapped the tablet. “You must have something. I need one for the report.”

“Orca?” Blake suggested.

“Orca, then,” Jorah said.

The officer frowned. “And you are, sir?”

“Caspian’s father.”

“Okay.” The officer looked around the room. “I will ask that everyone leave except for family.”

No one moved.

“You are all family?”

“Yes.”

The officer sighed. “Ms. Reeves and Mr. Orca, are okay with everyone in here?”

They nodded.

The officer asked many questions but told little of what he knew. But from time to time, his piercing gaze would light on one of them for a moment longer than it needed to be, but in the end, it seemed their story rang true to the police officer.

Ian leaned forward. “Have you found the scientist?”

“Not yet. But it’s only a matter of time. Everyone is looking for Shade.”

When Sonora sniffed, Ian put a hand on her shoulder. This would all be hard for her.

The officer turned to Jorah. “According to the Marine Center, you are…” He coughed as if it were hard to say. “…from Atlantis.”

“That is so,” Jorah said.

“May I ask, why are you here now?”

“We are here to aid you. Your race is facing a deadly disease, and we will help you find the cure.”

The officer nodded his head and looked again at their weapons, clearly understanding he had little power here. “If you need any help, you know where I am.”

Blake stepped to Sonora’s side. “I’m so relieved you’re okay. You had me worried sick, Sunshine. I called your parents to come down here. We have to tell them.”

“Oh Grandpa, how do we tell them? How do we tell poor Aunt Claire? To think she lived with a monster all these years! He said he watched us for them. We loved him so much. How could we not have known?”

“I don’t know. I keep asking myself the same thing.”

Ian spoke up. “He said his uncle started this organization, and he followed in his footsteps.”

Blake brought a hand to his forehead, distraught about the situation. Sonora patted him. “Grandpa, we have to remember that what Devon has done is on him, not anyone else.”

“Our first priority must be the cure,” Jorah said. “We could use your help with that, Blake.”

“Yes.” Blake nodded eagerly. “I’ll help.”

Thirty-Eight

Something Horrible

Chapter Thirty-Eight

When Vince raced out of the Marine Center, he ignored the questioning looks following him. He had one thing on his mind. Save the world.

He scoffed at himself and what he was trying to do. Him? Vincent Hartman trying to save the world. How did this happen? Especially after everything he'd done. How did he get to this point? Vince pulled a hand through his hair. How did the world get to this point?

Because of people like Devon and his cruelty. Because of people like the History group and their greed. There was no doubt in Vince's mind their research of the Atlantians had been sold, making them a buttload of money.

Reaching his car, he fumbled with the key fob before unlocking the driver's door and dropping in the seat.

No, he needed to be honest with himself. It wasn't only people like them. It was also people like himself. People whose crime seemed merely curiosity, even when it took a dark turn. Then it became something more.

Vince lowered his head to his hands, letting his forehead lay against the steering wheel, as guilt ran through his soul. What kind of man was he? Why had he done this?

Beads of sweat rolled off his face onto his fingers. His body burned from the disease. Vince raised his head and pulled the rearview mirror around to look at himself.

His eyes were glassy with fever, his face flaming. He put a cloth to his mouth as he coughed to catch the bloody foam. He had little time. He must move now.

Vince shoved the car into drive and raced through the streets as quickly as he dared. He couldn’t risk being pulled over by the ever-diligent Seaside police.

Arriving at Nick's condo, he sagged in relief at the sight of his brother's car. He jumped from the car and ran to Nick's front door, pounding on it. Then he tied a new surgical mask over his face. When there was no sound, he thumped on it again. Finally, he heard his brother's faint voice.

"I'm coming," Nick said. "I'm coming. Geez, hang on a minute."

Tears welled in Vince's eyes when his brother answered the door, but he refused to let them fall. He put one hand on the siding of the house and leaned there, breathless.

"Vince?" Nick's concerned gaze roved Vince's mask-covered face. "What is wrong? Are you sick? You look bad.”

When Nick stepped out of the house, Vince took a couple of skips backward. "No! Don't get too close to me. I'm infected with—with something. I—I've done something horrible, and I need your help."

Nick frowned and walked back into the house, holding the door wider. Vince yanked another mask out of his pocket, wrapping it over the one he already wore. Grabbing the door, he shooed Nick across the hall and into the living room.

Vince sank into the first chair he came to. A lounger. He chuckled sadly. This was the chair he always sat in. He remembered all the good times, good conversations he'd had with Nick sitting here. It was fitting he sit in it one last time as he confessed his sins to his brother—as he died.

Nick stared at him from across the room. His dark eyes boring holes into Vince's. "What is happening, Vince?"

"Brother, I need your help. The world needs your help."

"What are you talking about?"

"Time travel. Is it possible yet?"

Nick held up his hands. “I never said it would be. You know I can't talk about my work."

Vince started the game they often played as he stared out the window at the ocean. "If we were talking about blowing up a beach ball, would you say it is already full of air?"

"Vincent!"

"This is important, Nick. More important than you can imagine. The world is literally at stake. I'm really not kidding. People will die. Maybe everyone."

Nick eyed Vince, his bouncing knee, his shaking hands, his ever-reddening face. "Not all the way full."

"Close?"

Nick gave a sharp nod.

"Could you go now? Today?"

"What? Vince. You're going to have to explain yourself."

"Could you?"

"I don't know. Maybe. There haven't been—I don't know."

"Would you try? If the fate of the world was on your shoulders? If you were the only person in all these billions who could save all others, would you try?"

There was no hesitation. "Of course."

Vince gave a small smile. His big brother. He could always count on him to do the right thing. “Well, it is."

Vince launched into his story, and Nick became more and more like stone as he was told of his brother's part in the cruel scientific torture of a people from Atlantis. Nick crossed his arms, pressing back against the wall where he stood.

Vince waited. Nick shouldn't believe him. He had no proof. But for some reason, his brother did. But when he had explained everything, the look of disgust on Nick's face hardened. "What have you done?" Nick spit at him.

Vince's head fell to his hands. "I don't know! I didn't mean—"

"I'm glad Father died before he saw what you've become!"

A heavy silence filled the air before Vincent spoke, "You can fix this, brother! You can. Just do what I ask."

"I don't know if I will make it there or back. There have been no human experiments."

"I'm sorry."

"I may be stuck there forever. Away from everyone. Away from Lisa."

Vince groaned at the mention of his brother's fiancé. He'd forgotten who his brother would be leaving. "I'll go. Show me how."

"You can't go. You wouldn't know the first thing about the history, how to act. Besides, you look like you’re dying."

"I am."

Nick's face turned ashen, and he slid down the wall. For some reason, he had refused to take in that part of the story. His brother was dying. The world was ending. He had to do his part, no matter what it cost him.

Resigned, he said, "Vince, I can't believe what you have done, what this group you are part of has done. What an evil group of people. I will do my part and hope it works. And if I do make it back here, and everything is alright, I will come and beat the crap out of you."

"Please do. I will need it."

"I am so angry and disappointed in you."

Now that his story was done, Vince let the tears flow. "I know." A round of bitter coughing shook his body, and blood seeped through the cloth mask he wore. His thoughts were becoming cloudy, and Vince worried about what that meant. People with rabies often lost their reason. He wondered if that was part of this disease.

He looked at his brother, "You need to go, Nick. I'm sorry, but there is no time. Ian is getting the cure. He will call and meet you. You need to get things ready."

Nick grabbed the antique wooden box their father had made with them from its place on the tall shelving unit. He threw it into a backpack along with some other odd items. A map, a compass, a large book, and empty vials. On top of that, Nick crammed clothing, a bit of food, and a few water bottles.

He swung the pack onto his back and looked at his brother with a mixture of shock, disgust, and sympathy. "I will try to fix this, though God knows how. But if I can't, this is on you. You and all your cohorts."

"Thank you, brother, for righting my wrongs," Vince said through the cloth covering his face. As he fell to the couch in grief and disgust for himself far greater than his brother felt, he choked out, "I'm sorry" around his rough cough. But it didn't matter, his brother was already gone.

Vince's thoughts became more and more cloudy, more fragmented. He couldn't remember why he was at his brother's house though he knew it was important. He wondered where Nick was and searched the house to find him.

Vince threw open the front door and walked outside, pulling the irritating cloth away from his mouth. Why was that there?

A dark-haired man was in the parking lot, loading his car with suitcases. Maybe that was Nick.

He walked closer, weaving a bit on his feet. The air around him seemed to buzz, irritating him.

Vince came up behind the man and grabbed his shoulder, swinging him around. No. Not Nick.

"Sorry!" Vince garbled out, nearly falling on the man.

The man reared back. "Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?"

Vince laughed. "I am a doctor."

The man shook his head as Vince continued to roam through the parking lot and down the sidewalk.

He coughed again, a deep, rumbling cough bringing up a long string of bloody phlegm. He worked his jaw. Yes. Rabies. He felt the urge to bite.

That afternoon Vince infected nine people. Those nine people infected fifty-four more in the next hour, and those fifty-four infected three hundred and eighty-six within the next. Some showed symptoms right away, wiping at their nose. Some would go on with their daily routine of working, shopping, and traveling for days, weeks, and months before the disease manifested.

The disease took Vince fast and continued to progress at a rapid rate. By the time, the three hundred and eighty-sixth person inhaled the tainted air, Vincent had attacked his first victim.

Even as he tore into the innocent man, Vince struggled to stop himself, but he was no longer in control. The illness was. It told him to bite and tear. So, while a large part of him took joy in the attack, a small piece of him, the part that was still Vince, wept in agony along with the man.

A police officer routinely assigned the block witnessed the attack. By the time he and two other men pulled Vince away, the victim was incapacitated. And missing chunks of his skin.

The police officer called for an ambulance to take Vince to a psychiatric ward. He shook his head at the state of affairs in the world today as the vehicle drove off with Vince strapped on a gurney in the back of it. The officer shook hands with the two men who helped him. All three were infected.

Enough of Vince was still aware when the needle of sedative slid into his arm that he offered a little prayer of thanks he was no longer a threat. But he was wrong.

Every doctor who examined him, every nurse who continued to ply him with sleeping medication, became his victim. Within hours, three hospital employees were sent home when they developed symptoms of a severe cold and flu.

The AgFlu had arrived in all its sickening glory.

It began with a vengeance and would not end until the whole world knew of its existence.

Thirty-Nine

It Must End

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Sonora tapped her finger against the TV remote, counting the minutes until her release. The doctor had agreed she was out of danger and could recuperate just as quickly at home. Now it was just a matter of nurses getting her ready to go and paperwork.

Until then, she flipped through the channels as Ian and Jorah spoke in low tones about their upcoming invasion into the History Museum’s basement. One Atlantian guard stood by the entrance of the room, listening in. The others had been sent on various errands. Sonora could only imagine the looks the locals were giving the tall, muscled, armed guards. They were even bigger than Ian.

She clicked the buttons a couple more times and came to an abrupt halt, staring at the TV. Sonora gasped and said, “Umm, hey! Ian? Jorah?”

“What is wrong?” Ian rushed to her side.

Sonora shook her head and pointed to the wall-mounted television. “Not me. Look!”

She turned up the volume and the men turned to watch the news report about a teenaged girl in Ohio with a strange, mysterious illness causing her to bite her mother.

Jorah dropped into the chair beside Sonora’s bed. “It has begun.”

The girl’s uncle, visiting from South Carolina, had been admitted to the hospital with severe pneumonia.

“How much do you want to wager he is from Seaside?” Ian asked.

“That fast?” Sonora asked. “It moves that fast? She could have barely got there. How? How would she get infected?”

“Vincent,” Ian said. “If he went through the public areas of the Marine Center, who knows how many people he infected.”

“I was told,” Jorah said, “that the disease works differently in different people. In some, it progresses quickly, and in others, it is lengthy.”

Sonora’s heart sank. “Is it too late?”

“I do not know,” Jorah said, concern filling his voice.

A hacking cough came from the hallway. The three looked at each other.

Ian moved to retrieve Sonora’s clothes from the closet. “I want Sunny out of here. The Traveler said the infected people band together and attack others. I want her away from them. She must come to Atlantis.”

Sonora couldn’t agree more. “What about my family? Since I didn’t get it, will they? And I want them safe too.”

Jorah patted her arm. “No, they will not contract the disease. The cure resides inside them, as it does you. And they are also welcome to come to Atlantis.”

“Even Grandpa?”

“Even Blake, though there will be some conditions for him.”

Sonora frowned and bit her lip, but any type of condition would be better than being where people were becoming like beasts. She glanced back up at the TV and shivered. “But my dad. Does everyone turn like that?”

“No. Not everyone,” Jorah said. “Don’t worry. We will get your family to safety.”

Sonora glanced at Ian as she gathered up some clothes to change into. “What do we do now?”

“I take you to your home to gather what you need. While you are preparing to leave, we will go for the cure. We should be in Atlantis in a few hours.”

“Yes,” Jorah said, his voice firm. “This History group must be stopped. They have harmed my people, now they start on their own. They allowed this disease. It angers me that such people have so much power in your world. It is as if they do not care for their people at all.”

Sonora’s lips twisted in disgust. “It is a problem we have from time to time. The worst reach a position where they can do great damage to others.”

At his side, Jorah’s hand tightened into a fist. “It ends today.”

Forty

Everyone Makes Mistakes

Chapter Forty-One

Sonora made it home without incident other than the fact that her legs felt like jelly. She was thankful Ian had stayed with her while Jorah and the guard went to Ian's house to gather weapons for the coming raid. Her arms wound tightly around his even though she laughed off his suggestion to carry her.

Blake, Mike, and Azurine met them in the kitchen. "Sunny!" Azurine said. "They let you out of the hospital already?"

"They told me to rest, but my tests came back clear. If I have any of these symptoms, I'm supposed to go back." Sonora waved a sheaf of paper the hospital had given her at them and set it on the countertop. "But I couldn't have stayed anyway. Have you seen the news?"

Her mother shook her head as she waved everyone into the living room. As she got her daughter comfortable in a chair, she gave Ian and his exposed bruises and cuts several hard looks. "Sunny, what is going on?"

Sonora grabbed her mom's hand. "Oh, Mom. I don't even know where to start. It's all just so… so horrible."

Azurine settled beside Sonora. When Mike entered the living room and saw his wife's distress, he stood beside her.

Sonora looked at her grandfather. She didn't know where to start, maybe he did.

Blake scraped a hand over his face and motioned them to chairs. “You'll need to sit down for this. "This all—everything that's happening is because of the animosity between humans and Atlantians.”

Mike gave a sharp nod. "I'm not surprised this day has come. How bad is it?"

"Bad. Really, really bad."

Blake wiped at his eyes as he started his story with Devon's experiments and ended with the AgFlu. Mike and Azurine's expressions went from confused to horrified. When told of Devon's involvement, several hard grunts and gasps escaped them.

"You're telling me," Mike asked, "our Devon is the cause of so much pain and anguish. That the literal end of the world can be laid at his feet because of the hatred he feels for your people, Blake?"

The older man slowly nodded.

Mike threw a hand out. "But, Atlantians make up most of this family. His own wife. How can he justify—I don't understand."

"Neither do I, Mike."

"Dad," Sonora said. "Uncle Devon told me he spied on us for the other scientists." She broke down, sobbing.

Mike moved into a chair beside Azurine. He, his wife, and Sonora huddled together. Ian stood behind Sonora, his hand on her shoulder, giving what support he could.

Blake stared at them and choked out, "This is my fault too. I came up here—" He couldn't finish.

Azurine waved him closer to them, hugging him. "Dad, if you hadn't, all of us wouldn't be here right now. You made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes."

Blake nodded but didn't say anything.

"What about Claire? What about my sister?" Azurine's voice trembled as she asked.

Blake shrugged. "We don't know, honey. But Jorah has assured us he will look for and help her."

"And this disease," Mike asked. "It is spreading that fast?"

"Yes," Ian said. "We must get the cure, but you should all go to Atlantis for safekeeping."

"We need to get Sierra and her husband."

"Of course."

Mike stood and went to the window, looking over Devon's property.

"There is something you should know," he said, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. "I just came from Devon and Claire's house. They are over there packing. Told me they were going on a business trip."

Blake and Ian exchanged looks.

Mike raised a hand, glancing at Ian. "I just ask that we don't hurt him, but hand him over to the proper authorities. Just in case, there is—I don't know—some kind of misunderstanding."

Ian's words were clipped. "There is not.”

Mike looked away. "I'm sorry. I didn't doubt you. It's just hard for me to imagine my brother-in-law as the man who hurt you."

"Tortured me. Tortured and killed many, many others. And for that, Devon will be punished, but we will allow it to be in your courts. If those courts still exist in the days that come."

Mike sagged against the wall. "Thank you."

Azurine rose and hugged her husband, glancing out the window. "They're out there right now. I'm calling the police."

Ian turned and rushed out the front door before anyone could object. Sonora looked at her grandfather and father. "He shouldn't go alone."

Blake and Mike ran after him. Azurine went to the door, and Sonora struggled to her feet and joined her.

"Sunny!" Azurine said. "You shouldn't be up."

"I'm going out there, Mom. I have to see Uncle Devon's face when he admits to what he's done. It somehow won't seem real otherwise." Sonora brushed tears from her eyes. "I was at the Marine Center, playing with the dolphins with him, and he had just come from hurting Ian. I have to see him. I have to."

Azurine nodded in understanding. "And we need to help Claire. She is going to be so shocked, so upset."

Sonora agreed as her mother offered an arm to help her down the stairs.

Forty-One

Escape

Chapter Forty-one

Ian stormed across the yard, Blake and Mike close behind. Devon and Claire stood at the back of their car, arms filled with clothes. Turning toward the men, Claire dropped what she carried and jumped backward, smacking against the vehicle.

Devon threw his clothes into the car and pushed his wife toward the passenger's side. "Get in the car now!"

Claire went for the vehicle door while Devon slammed the trunk lid down and turned toward the men sizing up his choices. Gaging the distance between himself and them, he went for the driver's side.

When Ian saw Devon's intentions, he tensed and bolted for the man before he could make it.

Devon threw a glance over his shoulder, surprise covering his face at Ian's speed. He fumbled with his jacket pocket. When he swung toward Ian, he was holding a gun.

Sunny's scream shattered the air. Her pain and dizziness forgotten, she moved away from her mother and toward the men.

Ian halted so quickly the grass beneath his feet tore from the earth. He sensed Sonora's fear and determination.

"Stay back," he roared at her.

Sonora hesitated and stopped, a hand at her throat.

As Blake and Mike followed Ian, the older man raised his hands to Devon.

"Son," Blake said. "You don't want to do this, hurting someone else will do you no good. I'm not sure what started this hatred in you, but it needs to stop. I can help you."

Devon choked on his indignation. "You—you can help me? Ha! You are the one who started this!"

Devon waved his gun at Blake's confused expression. "You killed my parents! Murdered my mother as if she were no more than a troublesome fly. My father, you broke in half while I watched from under my bed."

Blake paled.

"Yes," Devon continued. "You knew I was there, didn't you? Your mistake was in leaving me alive. You should have killed me too because I saw what your kind could do. You're a menace to all humans. You must be exterminated!"

When Ian took a step forward, Devon swung the gun to him. "You! Haven't I shown you how small and pitiful you really are? I've taken so much from you. I'm surprised you can stand." Devon glowered at Ian, and his mouth twisted in a sneer. "I guess our last experiment will be to see how many bullets it takes to bring you down. Don't worry. I have a lot."

Devon's finger wrapped around the trigger as he flicked off the safety.

"No, Son," Blake said. "It is me you're angry with. If you need to shoot someone, shoot me. Then let that be an end of this."

"Shut up, old man!" Devon said, "And stop calling me that. I am not your son, and I never was. I cringed every time you called me that. Like I would want to be anything to you!"

Devon scoffed when Blake jerk back. "And no, this won't be the end. You weren't even the beginning. History has been working with DNA since the fifties. Did you know that? You should see some of the freaks they have.”

Devon waved the gun at Ian. "So, I know this one won't be the last. I've let them know about this little uprising, and they will squash it flat."

Devon laughed as he stared at Ian. "What I had planned for you is nothing next to what they will do to you. I'd swim deep if I were you. The next abomination they catch…"

Devon shook his head. "So, no. No endings, only beginnings here. My only regret is that I can no longer shield the children. I kept Sierra and Sonora safe. With me gone, they will pounce on them."

Devon's words buzzed through Ian's mind. "No," Ian shouted. "That will not happen. It will never happen to her." He started toward Devon again.

The bang echoed through the air. Ian stumbled back, holding his shoulder, blood seeping between his fingers.

Sunny screamed and ran toward him, slipping from her mother's slackened grasp.

"I'm sorry, Edinara," Ian murmured as he used desperation to push her away as hard as he dared given her injuries.

Sonora groaned and fell to the ground. Azurine dropped beside her, smoothing her hair back as Sonora held a hand to her head.

Ian spared one glance for Sunny before turning back to Devon. The only ease he'd had during his time as a prisoner was the knowledge Sunny was safe. Keeping her alive and well had always been Ian's first priority, and nothing about that would change now.

Forty-Two

Turns Out

Chapter Forty-two

Ian pushed himself tall despite his bullet wound. Mike looked from him to Blake, clearly shaken by Devon's revelation that his father-in-law was a killer. Still, Ian gave him credit as Mike examined Devon. The man wasn't down yet, he was looking for some way to help.

Claire still stood beside the open passenger door, clenching the side. Mike glanced at her. "What about Claire?"

Devon's gaze swung to Mike, but he left the gun trained on Ian. "What about her?"

"If you let them have my family, what about her?"

Devon's gaze softened. "I'm so sorry, Mike. I know this is going to be hard on you. The easiest thing is to accept it as quick as possible and move on. Get yourself a new family. A human one. You had to know this one would be a problem someday."

"Did you?"

"Oh, yes. I did. But I fell in love with Claire, even though I tried my best not too. Once that happened, I did whatever I needed to make her mine."

Mike went back to his original question. "So, I ask again. What about Claire?"

"Claire is, of course, coming with me. And perhaps, she would like to tell you the rest."

Claire's eyes widened at Devon, and she shook her head no.

"Yes, my wife. I think it should be you."

Claire glanced from her father to her sister with teary eyes. When her gaze went back to her husband, she shook her head again.

"Tell them!" Devon's voice cracked hard as a whip.

Claire pulled in a sob and held her bottom lip between her teeth. She threw one more glance at Devon, and let his hard stare dictate her actions. She stared at the ground as she started to speak. "I'm sorry. I never meant—I didn't want you all to ever know. But Devon's told me what their kind can do, the danger they are."

"What we can do," Azurine said. “What we are."

Claire frowned at her sister. "Not me. I can't do those things."

"Really? Have you ever tried?"

"Of course not. Those abominations are dangerous and against nature." Claire's voice became stronger. "I'm not one of them!" She looked at Sonora. "Sunny, I'm so sorry. But I had to turn him in. I wanted you safe. You didn't understand the danger you were in."

Azurine looked at her sister in horror as Sonora started to sob in her arms. "You turned in Ian? You knew what Devon was doing?"

"Please understand. It was for her own good. For everyone's." Claire waved a hand toward them. "Devon doesn't hurt them any more than he has to. The information he gets is important. It can help people."

"Claire!"

"I couldn't let Sunny become like me. Remember what happened that summer? How beautiful Bay was, how beautiful it all was? Dad told us who we were, and it all seemed so perfect."

Claire wiped a tear from her cheek. "I loved him so much. The Atlantian connection we shared was so deep, unlike anything I'd felt before. He said we'd be together as soon as he came back."

She shook her head. "But then he didn't come back. He just sent me that stupid little note that said, "Not coming" with the little shark on it. Do you remember that, Azurine? How I hated him then, hated them all."

Azurine cried for her sister. "Oh, Claire."

"But after all these years, I can't forget him, can't forget what we had. I never got rid of that note. I can't stop carrying it."

Claire reached into her pocket and pulled it out, smoothing the paper. "It was the last thing he touched."

"Claire, honey, look at me," Blake said to his daughter. "Clarion, look at me."

Her gaze slowly made his way up to her father's. "I'm so sorry, Dad! But Atlantians are horrible people. I had to help Devon. I had to."

"Forget that for now. Your boyfriend did not leave you, he was in danger. That is what the shark means. I suspected as much, and I should have told you."

Claire scoffed. "What danger could he have been in, Dad?"

Ian had carefully watched Devon during the exchange. "Yes, Devon, what danger could he have been in?"

Devon shrugged. "How am I supposed to know?"

"I think you had him."

Devon's finger moved to the trigger of the gun. "I think you need to shut up, or you will get bullet number two."

A sliver of fear cut through Ian so deeply that he felt Sonora shudder. The threat was all too similar to those he'd heard through the last weeks. Devon always acted on his threats. Now was not the time to provoke him. Ian let his gaze fall to the ground.

Devon glanced at his wife. "Now is when you say you loved me best all along."

Claire's eyes widened, and she quickly reassured him. "Of course, dear. I've given you everything, done whatever you wanted. I know you didn't hurt him."

Dylan scoffed, "I cut my teeth on him. It was a pleasure to do so."

As the full force of what her husband said hit her, and Claire wavered on her feet. Her face drained of color, leaving only her large, green eyes. "I let you take everything!"

"You gave everything."

Claire put a hand on the car to steady herself. "What a travesty my life is," she muttered. "How did I give you such blind obedience?" Claire backed away from the vehicle and screamed, "I hate you! I have hated you for so long!"

Claire stared at Devon. Their eyes locked, and they read each other as only those who have been together decades can. She closed her eyes in resignation. "Why not? I have given everything else. I have never loved you as much as him, not remotely close. And whatever I had for you, turned to hatred long ago. You have to know that."

Rage covered Devon's face, and he swung the gun toward his wife. Claire bit her lip and closed her eyes. Ian rushed toward Devon with the other two men close behind.

The gun recoiled.

Claire fell to the ground, the small round hole near her heart filling with blood.

"Claire!" Azurine shouted as she ran to her sister.

Devon swung the gun back toward Ian, and another shot rang out. Ian stumbled and fell to the ground. He slapped a hand to his leg. It had gone through the skin, but not much else. Still, its stinging heat made itself known.

Devon turned the gun to Blake, and the older man raised up his hands in surrender before moving toward Ian.

Azurine fell to her knees beside Claire, trapping the little note fluttering to the ground. She picked it up and put it in Claire's hand, folding it over the paper. Claire sighed. Closing her eyes, Azurine whispered, "Oh my sister, I didn't realize how it was for you."

Claire's long sleeve fell back, and Azurine saw what Devon had taken from her. Old dark scars ran up and down her arms.

Azurine gasped. With trembling fingers, she pushed Claire's top above her stomach. Red, rope-like lines crisscrossed what was once smooth skin. Azurine whipped toward the scientist, her eyes blazing. "What have you done to her?"

"What I had to do, what she let me do. I assure you, it will help a person, a human, one day."

Azurine lowered her forehead to Claire's. "I'm so, so sorry."

Claire managed a smile despite her pain. "Don't be," she gasped. "Not now. When I wake up, Bay and I will be together again. It will be perfect." She gripped Azurine's hand. "Tell Sunny that I'm sorry if I was wrong."

Devon lifted his head at the sound of tires crushing gravel. A line of black SUVs raced down the long lane to their houses. He let out a laugh. "My people are here now. You will all be put where you belong."

He motioned with the barrel of the gun for Ian and Blake to get up and move toward the vehicles.

Ian grunted as he rose and limped. "It got out, you know. Your disease is covering the earth as we speak."

Devon froze for a moment and looked to Blake for conformation. When Blake nodded, Devon said, "They will fix it. The History Group will fix it. I haven't seen a challenge yet they couldn't overcome."

"Not this one. It was told long ago what would happen."

"Shut up!" Devon snapped. "Do you like pain? You always want more." Devon's fingers tightened on the gun.

The chill finger of fear Ian sitting at his core evaporated. He looked from the evil man to the dark, menacing SUVs. Better death than another cage. He couldn't survive that. Or he would and be there for years, decades.

He wouldn't let that happen to Sunny. The image was more than he could handle. He had one chance at this. He would not fail.

Ian glanced at Blake, nodding toward Sunny. "Old friend, I have to. She can't suffer."

"I know," Blake said. "We need to save them all from this."

Blake and Ian turned toward the black cars as Devon started sputtering behind them.

Ian eyed the distance he would need to go. He could make it. Ian stepped out of line with a glance back at Devon.

Devon fired one shot.

Ian grunted as fire ripped through the same leg, deeper this time. He struggled, keeping Sunny in his sights. She raced to him, falling to her knees in front of him.

He wrapped his arms around her, breathing in her sweet scent. Putting a hand to her face, Ian ran a finger over her soft skin. Her hands moved over his injuries then she buried her face in his neck.

Ian wished they could stay locked in each other's arms forever. Instead, he tipped her face to him, his gaze demanding hers. "Edinara, I love you so. You are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me."

Sonora sobbed. "I love you!"

"I do everything for you. And this so that he will never touch you."

Sunny snuggled deeper into his tightening embrace, giving him permission for what he needed to do.

"I understand," she whispered. "Do not be long behind me."

Ian inhaled, steeling himself to do what must be done.

"Ian! Stop!"

Ian turned toward Blake's voice. Mike held the gun on Devon as the evil man cowered on the ground. "I'll shoot him dead if he moves one inch. I thought this might be a better way of saving everyone than what you two had in mind." Mike shook his head and chuckled. "Atlantians. You are all so dramatic."

Ian loosened his grasp on Sunny but didn't let go. "And them?" He nodded at the SUVs coming to a stop in front of them. The police officer from the hospital jumped out.

Blake waved to the vehicles. "Turns out they're our friends, not his."

Forty-Three

The Larger Good

Chapter Forty-three

Ian didn’t move, which meant Sonora wasn’t moving either. The officer looked from them, to Sonora’s dead aunt, and to Blake as he held a gun on Devon. His gaze flicked back to Sonora. “Well, Ms. Reeves, you seemed to have gone from the frying pan directly into the fire.”

That was an understatement if she’d ever heard one. Sonora pushed at Ian, who groaned but held tight.

Instead, he glared at the officers, still not convinced they were friends, and said, “Can we trust you, officer? Or are you part of the larger evil residing in this land?”

The officer scratched his head. “I prefer to think I’m part of the larger good.”

“Devon expected you to be his cohorts.”

“Then Devon is sorely disappointed. We came because of a call from a Ms. Azurine Reeves.”

Ian released Sonora and stood, eager to explain. After glancing at Blake, who still held the weapon, she said, “Devon shot his wife, and Ian multiple times.” Sonora dropped back to the ground beside Ian and applied pressure to the wound nearest her. “Grandpa didn’t do this. Please, help us.”

As one officer called for an ambulance, Blake handed his gun over to the lead policeman and submitted to handcuffs. When Sonora and the others opened their mouths to object, he assured them all this was standard procedure, and everything would be straightened out at the station.

“You have a vehicle upgrade, I see,” Blake said as he ushered to the backseat of one.

“Yeah, we have a major donor. They always make sure we have the best.” He gave Blake a wink.

Blake chuckled, acknowledging his role in helping the local police force. “Thanks for being here for us.”

“No problem, Mr. Karras. That is what we get paid to do.

The group was still as they watched a policeman haul Devon off the ground and handcuff him. As he was led to the cop car, Devon couldn’t stop talking. “I’m innocent of any crimes against the citizens of this country. I will be free within the day. The people I work for will not stand for this! They run this town.”

Sonora angrily swiped at the tears that fell. She didn’t want to feel anything for her uncle anymore but was unable to turn her emotions off. Ian practically growled as Devon walked by him.

“Animal,” the scientist taunted.

The officer pulled Devon along. “The thing is we already knew about a worldwide ring of human traffickers specializing in medical torture. And it was suspected one part of it operated in this town. We expect Mr. Shade can fill us in on the operations.”

“He won’t do so easily,” Ian said.

The lead officer gave a sharp nod. “Oh, I hope not. There is a lot of payback owed him.”

Sonora scanned the area, her gaze settled on her mother, who still sat beside Claire. An overwhelming sadness filled her as she imagined what her aunt’s life must have been like. As upset as she was by the loss, if Aunt Claire were still alive, she would share her husband’s fate, and that may have been harder to see.

Sonora wasn’t sure she would ever forgive her aunt for her part in Ian’s capture, but after Claire told her own story, she at least understood it better. For now, she didn’t have to think about it.

A strong gust of wind swirled ashore from the ocean, lifting Sonora’s long hair and batting her clothing. Over the water, the horizon was no more than a dark haze.

“There’s a storm coming,” a policewoman told her. “News of it has been pushed aside because of this illness. But it’s likely to be a bad one. Once you get this taken care of, you should hunker down for it.”

Sonora absentmindedly nodded. That could wait for later. There were more pressing issues right now. She pushed Ian’s dark hair off his forehead and locked eyes with him. She saw pain. He must be holding it from her so she wouldn’t feel it along with him. He’d been in pain for so long. It needed to end.

Ian put a hand to hers and squeezed. “Do not fret, Jata Ara. The man cannot shoot well and did not hit any vital organ. I will be fine.”

“You are bleeding. A lot.” Sonora bit her bottom lip.

Ian’s expression became a mixture of pride and torture. “I can be almost completely drained of blood and still survive.”

“You can’t possibly know that.”

Ian turned to look at Devon as he was shoved into the SUV. “I do now.”

Sonora’s eyes widened, and tears flooded her eyes. They fell as she tended to Ian, and as she followed him into the ambulance.

Ian objected, “The treatments here are barbaric. My father will be back soon, and he will treat my wounds.”

She pushed him back on the gurney. “He isn’t here yet, and you need these taken care of. Please, do this for my peace of mind.”

He quieted but turned shades lighter when the paramedic pulled out a needle for an IV. Sonora put her forehead to his, whispering encouragement in the hope it would distract him. Ian’s whole body quivered at the sight of the needle penetrating his skin. His fear and loathing flashed through her before he was able to pull it back. It made what her uncle had done to him even more real.

Sonora ran a hand over Ian’s stubbled cheek. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry this happened to you.”

Ian grunted, unable to speak.

At the hospital, as doctors conferred about surgery, Ian’s grumbles became louder. “I shall leave now. I will not allow them to touch me.”

Ian rose from the bed, swinging his feet to the side. A nurse in the room sighed and said, “Mr. Orca, if you do not cooperate, we will have to restrain you.”

With a thunderous scowl, he yanked the IV from his arm. He pointed to Sonora and jerked his finger from her to the door.

“Out now!” He stood to follow her despite the nurse’s loud objections.

Ian shared his feeling over the full weight of the nurse’s words with Sonora. The chill still ran through them as they rushed down the hallway. Being here was more than he could handle. If he didn’t leave now, he’d start ripping the room apart.

She took his arm and tried to keep up with his long stride. Now was not the time to scold him. She only hoped Jorah would be here soon.

Forty-Four

Dark Horizon

Chapter Forty-one

Azurine drove the two back to the house. Sonora sighed in relief when she saw Jorah lowering his council staff to fit it through the front door. She helped Ian out of the car. He was fading, needing her help more with every step.

As they came through the kitchen, she yelled, "Jorah! Ian needs you!"

As he rounded the living room door. Sonora went on, "He wouldn't let the hospital staff treat him. He said you could do it. Please, tell me you can. He is getting so weak."

Jorah pulled Ian's arm over his shoulder. To Ian, he said, "Come, son." And to Sonora, "He will be fine, little guppy. Dry those tears. It is time to look ahead and forget the sadness of the past."

Sonora nodded her head, but until she saw Ian up and around, she wouldn't be happy.

Jorah helped Ian sit on the couch and waved in one of the guards. At second glance, Sonora noticed he carried the same kind of instrument the Atlantis doctor had used on her.

"I sent someone for the mijsti vall when I saw what we faced here," Jorah said.

The medic passed the instrument over Ian, looking graver the longer he read it. He shook his head and said something in Atlantian to Jorah. The older man's lips thinned as his jaw tightened. Ian's complexion became even paler.

"What? What is it?" Sonora asked.

Jorah walked to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "There is a lot of damage from his time in the lab. It is surprising he has been so strong." When Sonora put a hand to her trembling mouth, he continued, "Do not worry. Ian can be healed."

Sonora scooted closer to Ian and laid her head on his arm but moved away when the medic indicated Ian should remove his shirt. Ian glanced at her as if he wanted her to leave. She shook her head. "I've already seen it."

Her teeth clamped her lips together as he revealed the damage. It was one thing to see it in a dark room, and another in the stark light of day. Ian's beautiful body seemed damaged beyond repair. Angry red rope-like scars crisscrossed his body. Devon clearly hadn't cared how he stitched the skin back together. Her love hung his head, almost in shame, and it broke Sonora's heart. The medic clasped his forearm, uttering harsh, but apparently encouraging words. Ian nodded and gave him a half-smile.

Jorah translated for Sonora. “Caspian of Orca is a man among men, the warrior among many.”

She agreed. “He is.”

Pulling Ian's arm away from his body, the other Atlantian started to run an almost black instrument over it. It had one light which blinked either rapidly or not at all.

Sonora looked from Ian's arm to his face. There seemed to be no discomfort. On the man's third pass over his arm, the scar seemed to melt back into firm, smooth skin. She reared back, unable to believe what she was witnessing. Ian was intent on the healing, and Sonora could only imagine the relief it must be to have such horrible reminders fading away.

She looked at Jorah. "This will heal the bullet wounds too?"

He nodded. "It will all be gone."

It took time for the medic to cover Ian's entire body, but when he was done, Ian was close to how he looked the first time she'd seen him. Skinnier by far, and where before he was hungry often, he now seemed ravenous all the time.

"You look good," Sonora said softly, somewhat shy in front of the other two men. Ian nodded, but she knew it would be a while before he felt that way about anything again. "Would you like something to eat?"

"Yes, thank you."

Sonora went to the kitchen, where her mother was making sandwiches for some of the others. She helped Azurine pile them onto plates with some fruit and chips. "Are you doing okay, Mom?"

Her mother gave her a watery smile. "I still don't believe any of it. And I'm afraid of how I'll feel when it kicks in."

Sonora looked over at Ian. "I think it's that way with most of us."

"How is he? I'm so ashamed our family had a hand in any of this." She pushed one of the plates away from her. "I can't even eat, I'm so sick to my stomach over it."

She reached for her mother, giving support, and taking comfort at the same time. "Me too. He has been eating everything he can get his hands on. I don't think Uncle Devon even gave him enough food or water." She wiped at her eyes.

Azurine ran a hand over Sonora's head as they separated. "We have to assure him that we are not all like that. I couldn't abide it if he thought—"

"Mom, he knows." Sonora laid a hand on her mother's arm and squeezed. "Don't worry. He knows."

There was a buzzing tap somewhere in her head, and Sonora turned. Ian was staring at her. "Ian wants me beside him. He’s told me, my presence helps him know this is real, and not some sort of dream. It's a concern of his—that he'll wake up and still be there."

Azurine quickly put another sandwich on the already full plate. "Go then, Sunny. Don't let him feel that for even one second."

Sonora walked back into the living room. Someone had turned on the TV, and the news had broken into the regular program with more information about the illness. They seemed to delight in video clips of the AgFlu victims who had become violent. She handed the plate to Ian and let him pull her down beside him as she listened. There really weren't that many full-blown cases yet, it was just so unusual and frightening it had caught the attention of the country, if not, the world. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

It seemed, however, Jorah felt differently. He shook his head. "I fear we are too late, son."

"For many, we are. But perhaps for others, there is still time for us to help them."

Ian grabbed hold of Sunny as she sat. It helped to have his arm around her waist, to smell the scent of sunshine she seemed always to wear. He scooted her closer to him as he picked up a sandwich with his other hand. His father's next words stopped the sandwich mid-air.

"You have done enough, gave enough, my son," he said, his eyes shiny with unshed tears. "The guards and I will go after the cure. You will rest here with your woman. She needs you." Jorah held up a hand when Ian leaned forward to protest. "You gave everything to your mission, and you have succeeded. Let us take care of this last detail. The trip to Atlantis will be a hard one for Sunny and her family. They are your mission now."

Ian eyed his father, aware of what he was doing. His father was worried about his physical and emotional state. Ian debated insisting he finish this last bit of his mission. But regardless of his many assurances to everyone, he was in pain. Pain from what Devon had done, and pain from the gunshot wounds. The accelerated healing of his people still took some time. He was exhausted, and he needed rest. And Jorah was right, Sunny could use his help.

"Father, I wished to be there when you held the cure in your hands, but there is wisdom in your words."

Father and son hugged and wished each other success. Ian watched Jorah join the guards outside, feeling as he had when a young boy and felt to run after them in the slim hope they would take him along. The Atlantian men looked formidable. Their light-weight armor of dark blue usually hid them well within the water but served a purpose here too. Contrasted by a thin strip of color that ran up the side of their body, each color signified their rank. Add to that their laser weapons, and it would take a strong-hearted human to move against them, especially considering the guards were amongst the largest of the Atlantians.

Ian turned away before he changed his mind and flung open the door. When he went back to the living room, Sunny was gone. He felt the blood drain from his face.

Azurine quickly walked over. "She went to her room to pack."

Ian nodded and gulped. He wasn't nearly brave enough to be part of the guard. His father was right to leave him behind.

"Ian?" Azurine seemed worried as she looked up at him.

He scowled. "I am fine."

"You are." She nodded. "And soon, you'll be even better. It will all get better."

Ian cleared his throat. "Of course, it will."

She smiled. "I agree. Of course, it will. Now go on upstairs, Sunny may have some questions about what to take. Oh, and here." She pressed another sandwich into his hand.

Ian's expression lightened. Nothing was this woman's fault. "Thank you. These are very good."

Azurine looked at him with sad eyes. "I wish I had better, but it will do for now."

Ian's mouth curved at the corner. "Of course, it will." He turned and took the stairs two at a time.

Sunny's mother called up after him, "Second door on the left."

He called out for Sunny as he got close to her room.

"Come in, Ian," came the muffled reply.

Pushing the door open, he saw only an empty room until Sunny’s head popped out from her closet. She sighed and rolled her eyes.

The room was in chaos. Clothes littered a pink-swathed bed and corner chair. A suitcase laid on a small desk, pushing various small glass bottles to one side.

Sonora flapped her arms. "I just don't know what to take."

Ian picked at the tops, shorts, and dresses folded and ready for the suitcase. "None of this is suitable."

Sonora huffed in irritation. "Why?"

"It's not what we wear."

She folded her arms. "It's what I wear."

Ian sighed. He was going about this all wrong. He moved to stand in front of Sonora and ran his hands lightly up and down her arms. "My heart, which clothes are not important, but take what you want. Take whatever is important to you. Just know, I have a wardrobe waiting for you."

Sonora sunk into his arms and tipped her head up to him. "You already have clothes for me? When did that happen?"

"I feel this question is a trap."

"You feel correctly. You know, it is a good thing I love you because otherwise, some of the stuff you do would be downright creepy."

"How is providing clothing for the woman you love creepy?"

"You didn't know I was coming back!"

"A man can dream."

With that declaration, Sunny melted against him. Ian enjoyed the moment until she stepped away.

"Ian, how are we going to get everything there? I can't drag my stuff through the water."

"Father brought a—a conveyance. Something like a small submarine. It will be dry."

Sunny laughed. "Good, that helps."

The wind rattled Sonora's window, and she looked at the dark horizon. "And the storm?"

Ian came up behind her and folded his arms around her. "We will be long gone before it reaches these shores, my little woman. Atlantis has weathered storms for centuries. Storms far worse than this will be."

Sunny pouted at Ian when she saw his amused expression. "Don't make fun of me. I hate it when I don't know what is going on. And everything about this is new."

Ian turned her in his arms. "Well, I supposed it would be best to remove the worry from your mind."

Sunny put a hand on her hip. "And how are you going to do that?"

Ian's eyes lit up at the challenge. "Do you really doubt me?"

Sonora giggled as she realized his intention. When his lips had almost reached their destination, she whispered, "No. I don't doubt you at all. You make everything better."

Her eyes flickered to his then returned to his mouth as she pushed up on her tiptoes to close the gap between them.

Forty-Five

Genetics

Chapter forty-six

Blake, Jorah and his men moved with quiet, sure steps through the basement of the History Museum. If what Vince had told Ian was correct, the wall ahead should hold a hidden door to the secret lab.

Stepping beside an enormous stuffed buffalo, Jorah examined the wall and found the small metal, half-hidden panel. He opened it. Lights blinked at him. Jorah frowned and waved Blake up to look at it.

"Do you know of this?" Jorah asked. "I am not familiar with this archaic technology."

Blake chuckled. "It's what gave me an advantage here."

As Blake worked at the panel, Jorah once again cautioned his men. “We avoid killing the humans no matter what we see here."

The guards gave a sharp nod and readied themselves. The door clicked, and Blake yanked it open. It was a small, empty room made entirely of gray block, but across from them was a set of solid double doors. They crept forward, weapons raised.

The guards carefully pushed open the doors, and Jorah scanned the large room beyond. It was bigger than he'd expected, and quieter, with several doors leading off of it.

Blake raised an eyebrow at Jorah. The councilman nodded. This was going to take a while.

The lab itself seemed empty, though shadowy movement could be seen behind some of the windows. Jorah instructed two guards to keep an eye on the rest of the room, and the rest of them began investigating the right of the entryway.

The first door was locked. Jorah looked through the tall, skinny window beside it. Inside were people, sick people. Some barely clung to life. They laid slumped against the walls, bloody foam falling from their mouths as they gasped for a final breath. Others lumbered from one side of the room to the other. They banged into each other on their endless quest to nowhere.

Jorah turned away. This had to be the AgFlu. It sickened him to see people in need of help and getting none. Had these sick people been brought here? Or had they been enticed here and then made ill?

At the next window, fewer people milled around, and they were still coherent. The men and women conversed as they sat or laid on the beds and chairs provided. One man raised his eyes and seemed to look right at Jorah but didn't acknowledge him. Jorah put his hand to the glass. Those confined couldn’t tell anyone was out here.

The next area held the worst of the diseased. Jorah counted twelve of them lumbering around the room, dragging stiffening limbs. Their jaws worked from side to side as if in anticipation of a meal. Blood stained their mouths.

One stopped and sniffed at the air, then roared. He ran like a wounded, rabid dog across the room to a corner Jorah couldn't see. There was the shrill scream of a woman.

Jorah's heart shook. He grabbed the doorknob and twisted. Its metal protested, but he continued to turn it, not allowing the smooth surface to slip through his hand.

The screams continued, stirring up the other sick. With slow steps, they moved toward the sound.

A guard put his hand over Jorah's, stopping him from opening the door. "It is too late for her, sire, as it is for many others." He tipped his head toward the bodies littering the floor.

She had not been the first victim.

"Humans have turned themselves into animals," Jorah gasped as he turned away.

His men uttered disgusted growls. Even he had to remind himself that not all of them were like the ones who ran this lab.

Jorah swallowed the disgust that had climbed into the back of his throat. He couldn't look in any more of these rooms. They would take the chance they were all filled with scientific subjects. Instead, they moved to the refrigerators.

He told his men what to look for, a small clear multi-sided vial. It would be distinct from the long cylinders the humans used.

The men searched cooler after cooler then cupboard after cupboard with no success. With only a few places left to look, there was a stir.

Someone had entered the larger room.

Jorah and his men raised their weapons and froze. An older man, reading from a file, stumbled into a desk. Short and round, like a blowfish, he paid no attention to his surroundings or the intruders.

Two of the guards slid behind the man and pushed their weapons to his back. The man startled, his papers fluttering to the floor in front of him.

"Oh, my!" he said as his eyes snapped up, and took in the massive Atlantians. "Oh, my!"

"Where is everyone?" Jorah barked at him.

"Well. Well." The grey-haired human in the white coat blinked his eyes a few times as if coming out of a dark cave. "I don't rightly know. Some got sick and were put in quarantine. Others left fearing they would get sick." He looked from one of the guards to the other. "We were so careful, but it got out after all. I warned them."

"Who are you?"

"Me? I'm Dr. Smith-Harnett."

Jorah gave Dr. Smith-Harnett a fearsome scowl. "We are looking for the Atlantian cure that was stolen from us. Where is it?"

The doctor put a hand to his chin. "The Atlantian cure? Well, that takes me back. Um, did it come from a decorative wooden box?" At Jorah's nod, Dr. Smith-Harnett turned and waved for him to follow.

The guards went on alert, but Jorah ordered them aside. The man hardly seemed a threat. They followed the doctor to a smaller laboratory.

As they walked, the doctor said, "This whole lab was built because of that little vial, you know. The experiments we have done, the things we have learned. Since before my time even. In the fifties, it started."

Reaching into a cooler standing to the left side of the lab, the doctor pulled out a vial Jorah recognized. He grabbed it from the doctor and shook it.

"Yes," the doctor said as he grimaced. "I'm afraid to say there isn't much left."

Jorah shook it again. There was barely enough liquid remaining to skim the bottom. "What have you done with it?" he shouted.

"Wonderful things. Yes, wonderful things. Did you know the cure to cancer was in there? As well as heart disease? We created ways to make people stronger, healthier. It's marvelous."

Blake stepped forward. "But we still have cancer and heart disease."

Dr. Smith-Harnett frowned. "Yes. It would have been the pinnacle of my career, but the medical industry had a fit. There is a lot of money to be had with those two diseases, you know. So, they just dole out a little bit here and there." The doctor narrowed his eyes at Jorah. "What do you want it for?"

Jorah looked at him with disbelief. "It is the cure for the disease sweeping your town."

"It is?" Dr. Smith-Harnett pulled out a little notebook. "I'll have to look into that."

"This is all you have?" Blake questioned him. "There is no more hidden away somewhere?"

"No." Smith-Harnett sadly shook his head. "No more of the original sample."

"It will have to do," Jorah said. "I hope it will." He looked at the doctor, his voice dropping. "We should throw you in with the sick ones."

Dr. Smith-Harnett took a step backward, his eyes wide at the threat. "That is not my doing. I had nothing to do with that!"

"There was a woman in there, the sick ones just—they attacked!"

The doctor ran a hand over his face. "I thought I got everyone out. You have to understand, normally there are men with guns—a lot of them. We don't have choices here. We are told what to do. I've been kept here, haven't even seen the light of day for months now. As soon as they left, I snuck the keys and moved the ones they stuck in there with the violent ones into their own room. I’ve stayed here so I can help them out as soon as we know they’re not contagious.”

Jorah studied the man's pasty color. He could believe him. Why not? Humans did so many other outrageous things. Holding scientists hostage didn't seem all that strange. "Do you know who we are?"

"I saw you on TV at the Marine Center, and I've known of Atlantians for some time now. I even had the pleasure of meeting a few of them before... well before... they would take them away." The doctor looked away. "Besides, I'm used to people who are, shall we say, different. That's what I do here—genetic manipulation."

"What do you mean?"

Dr. Smith-Harnett pulled a remote from his pocket and smiled. "This!"

With one click, over a dozen of the rooms lit up. Each one held an occupant. The rooms were decorated as if the permanent habitat of these people, not sparse, but full of personality and completely different from the rooms he had first peered into. Blues, pinks, purples, greens each room with had a comfortable setting and a normal, bright-eyed human—sort of.

One held a man so tall, the ceiling was adjusted to contain him. Another used a treadmill, his feet moving so fast it smoked. A woman raised her head from the book she read and waved—her very long, rabbit-like ears. A second woman tipped her head, offering a slight smile then slinking out of sight. But not before her eyes flashed white at Jorah.

Doctor Smith-Harnett's threw an arm toward them. "Changed DNA like Atlantians but, unfortunately, without the finesse."

A bolt of shock ran through Jorah. Atlantians hadn't known precisely why their DNA was different from humans. Had it started here? In this lab?

“We’re all stuck here,” the doctor continued with a proud note to his voice. "But I make sure they have good living arrangements. Same as me."

Jorah looked from the doctor to the people and back again. This solved the last piece of the puzzle. "How do you make them like that?"

"Well, it is a bit of a procedure, first we..."

"Do you have a—what do you call it—a shot?"

"Well, we have been using a DNA machine, but I have recently developed something." The doctor bristled with excitement and walked over to a drawer. He removed what looked like a blue hard-plastic pistol. "It's a DNA gun. Injects the DNA right into a person via a small bullet."

"I need that," Jorah said, quickly snatching the gun from the doctor. "Along with any 'bullets' that will make us Atlantians what we are."

The doctor threw up his hands, looked around, and raised his voice. "What are you talking about? We aren't working on Atlantians. That is the last thing the History people want."

"What is the closest thing to it?"

Dr. Smith-Harnett looked from Blake to Jorah and waved them closer as he looked at the corners of the ceiling. "I have a secret project based on Atlantian research." He chuckled.

Jorah realized the doctor was trying to avoid cameras or listening devices, so he nodded for his men to destroy them. Turning their weapons to lasers, a few dramatic blasts of sparks took care of the problem. Dr. Smith-Harnett laid out a bag of plastic vials on a metal table. Each contained a small pellet.

He pointed from the pellets to the gun. "These go in there. I've put in every kind of DNA that could account for the differences in Atlantians. Well, what I know anyway. But you can't use these. They're too powerful. I've only ever mixed one other DNA with humans, I don't know what would happen with so many, but I suspect it would kill a person.”

Jorah stared at the vials and ran a hand around his neck. The decision weighed heavy on him. This was either the right DNA for Vince's brother to take back in History to save the world. Or it was the wrong one, and it would kill all their Atlantian ancestors, ensuring the end of their race and the total destruction of mankind.

Dr. Smith-Harnett laid his hand over the vials. "You can't. Do you understand that whoever you use them on could die?"

It was almost as if that is what made up Jorah's mind. He considered The Great Destruction, the historic event that would make them who they are and pushed aside the doctor's hand, grabbing the DNA gun and all the vials. "We will all be dying anyway."

A loud bang sounded from the main room. Jorah signaled the doctor to stay back as he and his men took the lead. A line of humans loaded with heavy artillery, dressed mainly in black, stood in front of the only exit. Seeing Jorah's group, an unarmed short but muscular man dressed in a suit took a step forward and crossed his arms.

Jorah looked him over, assuming that the human was trying to be intimating. He couldn't stop the little smirk as the human leader took another step forward, stomping his shoes against the floor like an angry toddler. Jorah shrugged a shoulder. They all seem small and rather childish to him. While he could accept that when he cared about them, when the humans became unreasonable, it irritated him.

"How nice to meet you," the short leader said sarcastically. "And how nice of you to make this so easy for us."

Jorah almost rolled his eyes. Instead, he turned to Dr. Smith-Harnett. The doctor trembled as his eyes scanned the new group and said, "I'm in trouble now."

"These are the ones who keep you prisoner?" Jorah asked.

"Yes, those are History's goons. The latest ones anyway. And that's the leader. He's a mean one."

Jorah waved to the sick and infected people. "Did he do that?"

"Yes."

The leader tromped forward, upset Jorah didn't seem concerned about his tantrum or the muscle behind him. He opened his mouth to speak again.

Jorah interrupted him. He smiled when he saw it irritated the leader that his pompous speech was disregarded so thoroughly. "I would give you mercy," Jorah said. "But you give none to others. You treat your fellow kind without care as if you are somehow above them when, in reality, you are far below."

The History leader gaped at him.

"What happens outside, on the other side of these doors is because of you. What will go on behind these doors will be because of you. I have no more breath to waste. I have to clean up the mess you have let loose on this world."

Jorah turned to his men. "Throw them in there." He pointed to the room with the violent sick. "Treat them as they have treated others."

The man in the suit and his men burst into laughter as they aimed their guns at Jorah's men. There was no doubt in their mind they would win this one too. They won them all.

Before their fingers could twitch against the trigger, blue light danced between the two groups. The Atlantians fired their lasers, dropping their rivals to the ground instantly. The humans lay there aware and unhurt, but without the ability to move.

Tears trailed down even the burliest of the men's cheeks as they watched their brothers dragged to their horrifying deaths. Jorah bent and patted the History leader on his limp shoulder. His face still wore shock over the quick turn of events.

"Do not feel bad," Jorah said. "You did not have a chance at victory. With these six men, I could destroy cities."

Jorah turned to Dr. Smith-Harnett. "You are free, and so are your enhanced people. I am not sure who will survive this disease, but for now, you have your freedom."

Jorah took the lead as his men strode to the door. Blake glanced over his shoulder, waiting for the screams to start, but Jorah did not. He had learned long ago that for a leader, some decisions were hard to make, and some were not.

This one had been the easiest of his life.

Forty-Six

Nick

Chapter Forty-Seven

Sunny was pushing the last item in her suitcase when Ian heard a car enter the lane to the Reeves' house. As he moved to the window, she followed, and Ian pointed out the vehicle.

"I swear," Sonora said. "How did you hear that?"

He chuckled. "Hearing is different up here but easier compared to an earful of water." Peering out the window, Ian saw his father and rushed out the door and jumped down the stairs, three at a time, barely touching the wood banister.

Sunny raced behind him, and he waved her on.

Ian opened the kitchen door for his father and the others, at the door, stepping back to let them in. His stomach jumped in anticipation. Had they been successful?

Jorah flashed Ian a triumphant look, the smile on his face growing. "It is done, my son! Your mission is completed."

Jorah pulled the vial from a pocket and clapped Ian on the shoulder. They both stared at it, hardly believing this day had come after decades of searching.

"And these." Jorah pulled the vials and DNA gun out of a satchel. At Ian's confused look, Jorah explained their use. "These will be helpful to the man called the Traveler? It will give Atlantians their extra power."

Excitement stirred in Ian. With this, at least some Atlantians would be saved from a fiery death. Their race would live on and grow into what it was today. “Everything is completed then."

"Not quite. The human imbeciles have used up almost all the cure. We need Mako. If anyone can create more, it is her. Hopefully, there is enough for her to study. I have sent two guards for her. She will rise from the sea, and she will not be happy about it." Jorah chuckled. "It has been decades, if not centuries, since she has done so."

Ian smiled. He could only imagine the lecture his father would receive. Mako was well-known for her fine scoldings. "I think it is time to call Nick Hartman."

Jorah agreed, "It is."

Ian pulled from his pocket the silver phone Vincent gave him, and which he had carefully guarded. He found Nick's number and punched send.

A man answered on the first ring. His voice was deep and steady, but quick. "Hello?"

"I'm Ian. Vince—"

"Yes. I'm ready."

Ian gave him the address to the Reeve's house.

"I'll be there in twenty," Nick said and hung up.

Ian took the phone from his ear and looked at it. Even though in the end Vince chose the right side, he spent much time on the wrong one. It had made Ian wonder what kind of man his brother would be.

As surprised as he was to admit it, the short conversation had inspired confidence, and that was a good thing. The lives of every person he knew depended on Nick Hartman.

When Nick Hartman stepped into the kitchen, everyone stopped and stared. Some in awe of what he would do, some sizing him up for the job ahead.

Nick was a tall man for a human, coming in at six-foot-four-inches, and while he was thin, he had a wiry strength about him that could be seen beneath his dark blue henley shirt.

Nikolaas Hartman had been born to one very dependable father and a somewhat flighty mother. Though he loved both of them equally, he had always been quite happy that it was him who took after his father.

Dependability was stamped across every part of Nick. It was in the sure way he walked, the measured way he spoke, even in the calm, assured look as he assessed a room. Within minutes, they others felt as Ian did. No one doubted the impossible would be possible with this man.

Nick's deep voice reassured the group even as he cautioned them of the dangers and uncertainties involved in his undertaking. "I want you to understand that no human has done what I'm attempting to do. I don't know exactly how or if this will work at all."

Jorah nodded. "We understand. But do not fear, if you fail, we will never know."

The others nodded. If Nick failed, all Atlantians would die at The Great Destruction thousands of years ago. If that happened, the whole timeline would change. Maybe there would never be DNA experiments, maybe this disease would never be created. Perhaps mankind would live in blissful happiness for centuries more, or maybe they would create something different, something worse. But, without a doubt, most of the people in this room would no longer exist.

"That is true," Nick said. "My colleagues and I have done a lot of brainstorming on this. But there are so many variables and unknowns, it is impossible to predict an outcome. I will, however, do my best not to change the new future." His mouth turned down. "Of course, it could just open up a new timeline, and this one would stay the same."

"You will do the best you can, given what you know," Jorah said. "It is enough."

Nick nodded and listened with interest as the Councilman explained the vial, the DNA gun, and that Mako would make more of the cure as most of the others wandered to the living room. Nick would take both items back in time to the original Atlantis and inoculate their ancestors.

Nick nodded. He stood lost in thought for a moment, then said, "I will need you to tell me everything about the time Atlantis was destroyed. Who your ancestors were, where they will be, anything you know that will help me find the right people to give these to."

"I think we will agree that you should make the decision about who to inoculate," Jorah said. "There may be a problem getting to specific places."

"True, but it is this group trying to help save everyone. Another group may not. I'm leaving behind a fiancée, and I figure her best chance is with the people in this room."

Jorah agreed and glanced at Ian. "I will not argue the matter. When this is all over, I wish my family to be among those who survive. Thank you, Nick."

Jorah and Ian walked Nick into the living room where Mike and Azurine handed out refreshments. It would have seemed a happy gathering, if not for the serious matter at hand.

Ian sunk into the couch beside Sunny, wrapping his arm around her. Nick scanned the room and sat near them, asking how they met.

Sunny's eyes brightened as she glanced at Ian. "I'm Blake's granddaughter and one-quarter Atlantian. Ian is entirely Atlantian." She gave Nick a small account of their meeting.

Nick nodded thoughtfully, then pointed at Mike and Azurine. "I would like the history of both of your families too."

Mike looked at him, confused. "Why?"

"For this couple, who are at the center of this dilemma, to meet I'll need to do what I can to make sure you and all your generations of family survive. I have my own ideas of how I can do that."

Nick went on to explain. "You see, someone has already tried this and failed or else Atlantians wouldn't exist now. I suspect the cure or Atlantan DNA was also be given out to some humans. That is why a few humans either get a mild case of this AgFlu or don't get it at all."

"So, you think we're all a little bit Atlantian?" Mike asked.

Nick smiled. “Perhaps. If that is what happened. Though it would be more proper to say some humans have a bit of the DNA we are going to inject into those from Atlantis. The Atlantian people only mixed with other DNA-enhanced people, so their differences grew stronger with each generation. Any humans injected mixed with others who did not have the enhanced DNA, so it diluted. But it is apparently enough for them to be naturally immune to the disease. Of course, those getting the inoculation are only getting that, but it will help them and their decendents survive."

He ran a hand across his chin. "And that way, if this disease is again created and released, at least some will live, whatever timeline it is."

Mike shook his head. "This is even more difficult than I imagined it would be."

Ian agreed. It made his head hurt just to think of everything that could go wrong. He tightened his arm around Sunny just as a sharp knock sounded on the kitchen door.

Forty-Seven

You Would Be Surprised

Chapter Forty-eight

A thump at the door alerted everyone Mako had arrived. Sonora peeked into the kitchen as her father hurried to the door and opened it to two large Atlantian guards. Both scanned the room with stern expressions. Though Mike was a tall man himself, he took a couple of quick steps backward.

Beside Sonora, Ian smirked and murmured, "Of course, she brought the largest Atlantians she could find."

The guards parted, and a long, thin woman peeked between them, scanned the room, then bustled in.

"Jorah? Jorah?" Once she spotted him, she huffed, "I will never forgive you for this. For centuries, I will harbor this grudge. I have been to land exactly two times. Both ended in horrible circumstances. You know I hate it here. So open, so much sun!" She shuddered.

Jorah strode to her and put an arm around her, which she shook off. "I apologize, my friend. I had no choice. Was the problem explained? Did you bring everything you need?"

"Yes, of course. What kind of fingerling fish do you think I am? My life is science."

When she tsked Jorah as if he were an errant child, it took all Sonora had not to giggle. When Jorah actually looked abashed, she put a hand to her mouth to stifle her amusement.

Ian leaned and whispered in Sonora's ear. "Mako used to care for my father sometimes when he was a child."

Sonora and Ian exchanged an amused glance before she ducked her head against him, trying to contain her laughter. Ian trying to swallow his own chuckles, didn't help her.

The Atlantian woman scanned the kitchen. "Is this where I am required to work? Can I switch to our language now so I can voice my full displeasure? I have only been speaking English for the sake of our hosts."

"No, please," Jorah rushed to say. "Continue in English. For our hosts, of course."

"For my father's sanity, more like it, as she will be kinder," Ian mumbled.

Sonora flashed him a look. "Stop! I'm having enough trouble not laughing."

Ian's chest rumbled as he held back a chuckle.

"Fine then," Mako said. She turned toward her growing audience. "Who is the woman of this house?"

Azurine stepped forward. "I am."

"I am sorry to degrade your home. I am aware you are used to these... conditions. I apologize now for any other disparaging comments I make. This is certainly not my usual working environment."

Azurine hid a quick smile. "I understand."

"No, but you will. I understand you will soon be at Atlantis."

"It seems that is the case."

"Then, you will see why I consider your... this room woefully inadequate." Mako waved her hand at the room.

Azurine nodded. "Well, it isn't a science lab, which is what I understand you would rather have."

"Understand that what I would rather have is anything under the sea, but this will have to do."

The Atlantian scientist walked around the kitchen, testing the water, opening the oven and inspecting the stovetop. "You cook in here?" When Azurine nodded, Mako raised an eyebrow. "Then I suppose it will do. Well, you are certainly an outstanding woman. I like you. I would like you to assist me."

Azurine's eyes widened. "Oh, I'm not a scientist."

"Well, of course not. But the best time to learn something is when the tide is up and stirring against the shore. That is certainly now. Would you like to assist me?”

“Very much so!”

Mako nodded and waved at the two strong Atlantian men, and they began carrying in cases.

"We will need all this gone." Mako pointed at the counter and the appliances sitting there.

As Azurine rushed to remove them, Sonora moved to help her mother. When she reached for the mixer, the woman stopped her. "Who are you?"

"I'm Azurine's daughter, and—"

"Oh yes, Ian's Intended." Her gaze scraped over Sonora. "You look half-dead. Go away."

Sonora blinked at the woman. She would admit she was still slightly dizzy, but half-dead seemed a stretch.

She harrumphed. "I assure you I' m—"

"Caspian!" Mako said. "Come and help your woman back to her seat. And take better care of her. I would have thought better of you."

Indignation swelled in Sonora's chest, and she put her hands on her hips. "If you even knew—"

Ian rushed to Sonora's side and put an arm around her, pulling her back to a chair. "Yes, Council Mako."

"Ian!" Sonora struggled against him. How could the woman yell at Ian when he'd been through so much?

"Hst." Ian held his head close to hers. "You don't talk back to the council. It's disrespectful."

"Okay!" Sonora slumped in her seat and crossed her arms. "But someone really needs to let her know what you have been through."

"They will, Edinara, they will. But she says it for your sake, you are still recovering."

Mako helped Azurine clear the kitchen, treating each piece of small machinery as if it were a treasure. The two women worked quickly. Using the original material as a kind of recipe, within an hour, they had several batches of the replicated cure completed.

Mako filled the original vial and handed it, and several others to Nick then turned to Jorah. "Now, what are you going to do with the rest of this?"

Jorah held a vial to the light. "Give it over to this country. They can distribute it to the people."

Mako nodded and pulled out several small containers from her larger one and filled them.

She pushed all of them to Jorah except one, indicating she would keep it. "Just in case." She waved a hand at the humans and Atlantian-humans in distrust. “You never know.”

Jorah raised an eyebrow but agreed. "Good idea but let us hope the humans can get this right."

"I hope nothing, but I've made it as easy for them as I can. One of their supposed cavemen could do it. This is a start, and they can easily make enough for everyone." Mako eyed the last piece of equipment, making its way out the door in the arms of one of her guards. "I am done here."

Jorah gave Mako a small bow. "Thank you."

"You owe more than a thank you, believe me. And you better make sure I make it to the water's edge safely. I don't want to run into any of those infected humans." She shuddered.

Jorah nodded and ordered an additional two guards to accompany her to the water.

After they were gone, Jorah stepped into the living room. "Nick, I will have Ian accompany you, along with two of my guards. I and the four others will find and deliver this to the ruler in charge."

Mike coughed. "You can't just 'find' the President of the United States."

Jorah chuckled. "You would be surprised at what we can find." He shook his head. "But the fact is, he has been taken to a secure, underground place because of the outbreak. So I will go to the nearest military facility and talk to one of the Chiefs of Staff who recently arrived there." Jorah looked at the others. "The rest of you, make sure you ready yourself and your belongings. We leave for Atlantis on our return."

Ian put a hand on Sonora's arm. "I need to go my way and you yours for just a little while longer, Jata Ara. It pains me, but after this, you will be at my side always."

"Always? I hope I have a few private moments," Sonora said with a wry tone.

"Not many."

Sonora stared at him. He seemed serious. "Oh, my."

Ian frowned. "This is not the time for joking."

"I wasn't joking." Just how much together time did an Atlantian need?

"Sunny. We can discuss this another time."

"Yes, of course." She attempted to appear contrite. This was not the time to cause him concern. “I am eager for our life together to begin."

Reassured, Ian nodded, and he ran his thumbs over her soft skin. "You must be careful while I am gone. I prefer you stay here, but if you must go out, take care. These sick people can be unpredictable and aggressive. If someone says they need help, get an authority."

Sonora nodded.

"Promise me. Do you feel my concern?" Ian pushed his feelings to Sonora, and her eyes widened as his warm love and concern flooded her.

Sonora rubbed her on the spot above her heart, then moved her hands to hold his face. "I promise. Don't worry. Everything will be fine."

Ian softly kissed her lips, then her forehead. He pulled her back into her arms for only a moment, then just as quickly let her go and turned and walked away. He stopped at the door and turned back to gaze at her.

He smiled. "At first glance, you would seem carefree in your summer shorts and long blonde hair flowing down your back. But I see you, Edinara. I sense you. Your wide blue eyes flood with tears. Your hands twist. You worry as much as I. This will be over soon, and we will be together, my love." Ian blanketed her with reassurance and care.

Sonora smiled, grabbing those emotions and holding them tight. One tear spilled over, and she quickly wiped it away.

"I must go now," Ian murmured as he turned and strode out the door. "Before I lose the will to do so."

Forty-Eight

Disappeared

Chapter Forty-nine

Ian drove through quiet Seaside with Nick and two Atlantian guards. He stopped for a few pedestrians, but not as many as yesterday. The roads had less vehicles, and the doors to the shops, which were often open, were all shut tight. The word was getting out, and no one wanted to come across an unexpected AgFlu victim.

Once through the town, things got quieter. When they swung the car into the parking lot for Spire Cliff, Ian was not surprised to find the parking lot empty. What did humans say? Batten down the hatches? He approved. Better that then mingle and become infected.

The men left the cars, banging the doors shut. And took the trail to the top of Spire Cliff.

Ian looked over the rough water, his hair pushed from one side to the other by the restless wind. The horizon, dark as night, seemed to be closer since the last time Ian studied at it.

The storm was coming.

Ian glanced at Nick, a question on his face. "Why here?"

"This huge old rock points to a thin spot in time."

Ian scanned the rock, noticing for the first time the ocean-facing side almost came to a point. "By coincidence or by design?"

Nick shook his head. "No idea. There is more we do not know than we do. We are shooting in the dark here." At Ian's stare, Nick raised his hands. "But it's out there, and it's been tested. Sort of. I guess I'll be the final test."

"You will not fail. We will get you out there."

"It's not going to be easy. This water is really stirred up."

Ian eyed the whitecaps. "If not over the water, then under it. We have a vehicle ready."

Ian put his hand on Nick's shoulder. "Before we start, there is something you need to know. Mako says the cure you hold may not completely cure this first wave of sickness, but it will stop a secondary infection. One that is worse than the first."

Nick stepped back, surprise covering his face. "I thought this would save everyone!"

Ian shook his head. "Mako and my father know more about this disease than anyone. They say it will not save everyone."

"I'm doing this to put my brother's wrongs right. But also, for Lisa, my fiancée, so she might live. Is there any hope for her?"

Ian knew how the loss of a mate could feel. "Is she close?" When Nick nodded, he glanced back over the town. "Give me her address, and I will have her brought to Atlantis."

Nick quickly gave Ian the information he would need. Ian continued, "Because of what you do today, humankind can build a new, better world. If you ever find yourself lost, make your way to this beach. We will watch for you. Traveler, you will always have a friend among the Atlantian people."

Nick nodded and clasped Ian's shoulder. He picked up his backpack from where it sat on the ground and slung it over his shoulder.

"It is time to go." He tipped his head toward the massive cloud bank darkening the sky.

Sometime later, the four men stood on a small island their clothes and hair plastered to their skin. The way over had been rough, taking all their strength, but they had made it.

Ian stared at a standing ring of rock. Around the circle, the view was as one would expect, but through it, the scene was murky. As if two pictures fought with each other. It was old with vines and moss growing on and through it, and every so often, it seemed there was a snap of electricity. He almost laughed out loud. The world was full of amazing things. How long had this been here without anyone knowing?

Nick pulled an instrument out of his bag. His hand shook as he tapped the screen. What thoughts must be going through the man's mind? Taking on such a mission, putting his life and his love on the line, must seem insane.

He turned to Ian, his face pale. After swallowing twice, he said, "I'll do my best."

Ian gave him a sharp nod. "You will."

Nick smiled. "I'll say hi to your ancestors for you."

Before Ian could respond, Nick's cell phone rang. He yanked it out of his jean's pocket and looked at the screen. "It is Lisa's mother. I need to—"

"Of course."

Within seconds of accepting the call, Nick uttered a deep wail and fell to his knees.

Ian bent over him. "Nick?"

"It's Lisa. She has the AgFlu. Her mother said she is going fast."

"I am sorry, my friend."

Nick grasped Ian's arm and stood on shaky legs. "I have nothing to lose now. Maybe-maybe this can still save her.” He again shouldered his backpack and stepped toward the rock ring. He stared at it for a few moments.

"Nick?" Ian asked. Would the man be able to complete his mission?

The Traveler straightened his shoulders and seemed to physically shake himself. He glanced back at Ian. "I will do this." Then he took the four footsteps needed to cross to the other side of the circle.

Mid-step on last one, he disappeared.

Forty-Nine

Sierra

Chapter Fifty

Sonora watched Ian go out the door. She hauled in a huge breath and blew it out. She could stand here and worry or do something. Mentally ticking off everything still needing packed, she realized it was all done. Sonora walked to the living room. It seemed so empty now with only her mother and father sitting there.

"Mom, what else is there to do?"

"Not much. We're just waiting to hear from your sister." Azurine started to bite a fingernail.

Sonora frowned. Her mother biting at her nails usually meant she was nervous. "When was the last time you heard from her?"

Her father got up and looked out the window. "We haven't."

Sonora's heart skipped. "What do you mean? Since when?"

"I text and called," Mike said. "I didn't want to seem too crazed over the phone but made sure she knew the situation was serious. She hasn't answered yet."

"Dad! She doesn't know we're leaving? Or about the outbreak?"

Azurine put a hand on Sonora's shoulder. "Sunny, don't panic. She's probably still at work, and she may have seen the news." Azurine's gaze drifted to the same window her husband looked out. "I hope."

Sonora nodded and chewed her lip a little harder. For most people, this was just another ordinary day. The news report about a strange illness was one of the hundreds of others. Most people would brush it off as they did all the other unwelcome news. Sonora looked from her mom to her dad. "We should go get her. We are done here, aren't we? What will we do if Ian is done and waiting for us at the beach, and she isn't here yet?"

Sonora worried they would need some convincing. They didn't.

Mike turned toward the garage. "Okay, I'll start the car."

"I'll take mine," Sonora said, "and follow you. In case we have to split up."

"We are not splitting up," Azurine said, her tone stern.

"Okay, but yours is full to the brim. We'll need mine for the room."

As Sonora followed her parents to Sierra's accounting firm, she kept a sharp eye out. Other than fewer people out and about, there was little out of the norm for a typical weekday. They used the parking lot behind the building and walked around to the front.

Sonora's stomach tightened as Azurine looked up at the multistoried building. "Have you been here before? Do you know where her office is?"

What condition would her sister be in? She glanced at her mother. "Yeah, up the elevator to the second floor and the first left.

Sonora scouted the lobby as they walked through it. Everything appeared normal here too. No coughing, no sick-looking people here, just employees doing their jobs. She'd been through so much the last few hours, it felt odd, eerie even, like the calm before the storm—except no one knew the storm was coming.

When they reached Sierra's office, it was empty. Sonora drew in a breath. "Let me try the neighboring office."

She tapped on the door and heard a faint, "Come in."

Sonora creaked open the door, heart pounding over what she would find. But it was only her sister's blonde co-worker sitting at her desk. A smile lit her face when she saw Sonora.

"Hi," Sonora said. "We're looking for Sierra. Do you happen to know where she is?"

"Um, I had my last break with her, and she said she was going to hit the library for something."

Sonora frowned. "The building's library or the one down the street?" Both had law sections, and Sierra needed to use each of them on occasion.

The blonde woman sagged. "Oh, I'm not sure. She didn't say."

"Okay, thanks." Sonora started to close the door, then pushed it open again. "Have you heard about this new flu outbreak?"

"Oh, yeah, terrible isn't it? If it's not one, it's another these days."

Sonora nodded. "This one is bad, though. You should probably go home."

The blonde chuckled. "If I went home every time the flu went around, I'd be broke. It'll be gone before we know it."

Sonora didn't know what else to say without appearing crazy, but she tried. "Some of the people who get it, they get—dangerous. And the symptoms come on really fast. Please be careful."

"Well, thanks. But like I said, I gotta work." The woman smiled and dipped her head back to her computer, dismissing her.

Sonora shut the door and turned to her parents.

Her mother sighed and glanced from Sonora to Mike. "I know what I said, but it looks okay here. What if Sunny checks out this library, and you and I go the one down the street, Mike? We need to find Sierra as fast as possible and get word to Bruce."

Sonora winced. Sierra’s new husband worked in construction. Who knew where he was on any given day—hopefully close.

Mike stared at Sonora. "You see anything crazy, you just move along, ya hear? Don't be taking any chances."

"Dad, the library is right down there." She pointed to the end of the hallway.

"You heard me. No chances."

"Okay, Dad."

Satisfied, he patted her shoulder.

Azurine gave Sonora a quick hug. "We'll be right back. Wait in your car when you're done, okay?"

Mike gave her a stern look. "And don't talk to anyone you don't have to."

"Yes, Dad, I'll be careful. I promise."

Sonora watched her parents walk toward the elevator and turned toward the law library. She came to an intersecting hallway and, after a quick peek each way, continued to the other side. The library area contained a deeply recessed carved door, so Sonora passed tall windows on both sides of her, boasting thick wood shelves stuffed with books. It was quiet here, and if a pin dropped on the tile floor, Sonora would undoubtedly hear it. The elegant area should have seemed serene, but given the circumstances, it sent a shiver up her spine.

Sonora's gaze darted from one part of the corridor to the other. Stupid. She shouldn't be so overdramatic. But right now, she longed for the hustle and bustle of the fully staffed lobby.

Reaching the entry door, she pulled. It seemed to resist at first, then gave in. She stepped inside and halted, drawing in a ragged breath. This side of the door was just as whisper-quiet as the other side. Sonora scanned the room, as far as she could see. Not a soul around, not even a librarian behind the front counter.

She started to call out, even if it meant getting shushed, but she stopped. What if there was an infected person here? Better not to give away her location. She winced. That seemed stupid, and it probably was. Unless it wasn't.

Sonora took in a large breath as she made a plan to look for Sierra. She turned to the right side of the library, her feet barely touching the carpet. If she kept this up, she'd be done in no time. She wrapped her arms around herself as she peeked down the book aisles. When she'd finished that side, she passed the librarian desk again to check out the other side.

No one. Most importantly, no sister. She hoped her mom and dad fared better.

Sonora hustled to the main door and pulled, glancing back into the library when she heard a noise. Then smacked hard into someone coming through the library doors.

She took a couple of steps backward. "Sorry! So sorry!"

A smartly dressed woman stood in front of Sonora, laughing.

"Me too," the woman said. You'd think I'd watch better." She shook her head. "Did you need anything? I work here. I had to slip out to the ladies' room."

"No, I was just looking for someone, but they weren't there. Maybe she was earlier? Sierra—"

"Oh, Sierra! No, she hasn't been in today."

Sonora smiled. "Okay. Thanks."

"I hope you find her."

"Me too!" Sonora took a moment to also warn the librarian about the outbreak. The woman didn't take it any more serious than Sierra's co-worker. Well, she was trying.

Sonora moved back down the long hallway the way she'd come and peeked her head into her sister's still empty office. Taking the elevator back to the lobby, her stomach lost some of its tension once talking and laughter filtered through the doors.

Just in case, Sonora scanned the lobby for Sierra as she crossed it and walked out the door. She took the sidewalk around the building to the parking lot. As she reached the sunny side of the street, Sonora slowed. It was a beautiful day, the only thing marring it was the dark cloud over the ocean that kept getting larger.

From here, though, it still seemed far away. Sonora spotted a park bench and sat down for a few minutes, letting the sun warm her skin. Who knew when she would be able to do this again? Ian promised regular land visits, but that was before all this. Tipping her face to the light, she let it chase any dark worries away. Just a few minutes to enjoy this, and she'd be ready to take on the world again.

A cough, a deep one. Sonora's eyes flew open. A restaurant worker stood across the street smoking, his white apron dangling from his neck. He coughed again. Just smoker’s cough. Now she was just being paranoid.

Sonora scanned the rest of the town's street. A few patrons shopped, but it thinned out this late in the afternoon. Many people were thinking about dinner.

As if on cue, her stomach growled. She eyed the restaurant, wondering if she had time to grab something. It had been a few hours since lunch, and her parents were probably hungry too.

She stood to cross the street. The man coughed again, and she paused. What if it wasn't only a smoker's cough? Sonora imagined the man coughing into her family's drink and food. No, no, thanks.

Still hacking, the worker tied his apron and went back inside the kitchen. On the sidewalk coming Sonora's way, a woman coughed. A child across the street sneezed.

Sonora shuddered and changed direction, going toward the parking lot where her vehicle was parked. She scanned the area. It looked empty. Still, Sonora picked up her pace as she headed for her car.

Fifty

Little Boy

Chapter Fifty-One

Sonora moved as noiselessly as possible, carefully putting one foot in front of the other. What seemed a perfectly acceptable parking spot before going inside the building was now shrouded in shadow and causing ice to trickle down her spine. She shook her head. There was nothing here. She was being silly, still on edge from the library.

Sonora straightened and continued toward her car. It wasn't far now.

Something like metal rattled from the dark alley on the left side of the lot.

Her head whipped toward the sound. Glancing to the left and right, she sped to her car. Sonora pulled the keys from her purse and pushed the unlock button over and over. She readied to jam them into the ignition as soon as she reached the vehicle.

Another tinny clatter from the alley echoed through the lot. Sick people or not, this put her on edge. She kept one eye on the dark mouth of that street. Only steps away from her car, Sonora saw a middle-aged woman step out from the gloom holding the hand of a young boy.

Sonora sagged with relief until the woman coughed, bending with the effort. When she raised herself, blood stained her chin.

Sonora glanced from the woman to the boy. He seemed fine.

The woman waved at Sonora. She seemed oblivious to the stain on her face. "Can you help us?" She coughed, leaving her voice raspy. "I seem to have lost my car."

Sonora backed away as the woman walked across the lot toward her.

The woman put a hand to her head. "It's just—I just feel so lost. Everything's fuzzy. I don't know."

She coughed again, covering her mouth. When she pulled back her hand, it was covered with bloody spittle, and she stared at it. "No! Oh no! Do I have it? That thing going around?"

"I'm sorry." Sonora took a few more steps away. Ian said she couldn't catch it, but what if he were wrong. What if what happened in the lab was just a fluke? What if she could catch it from a person?

The woman held out the hand. "Can you help me?"

Sonora's heart ached at the woman's plea. "I can get you help."

"Please, don't leave us. Help my boy, if you won't help me."

Sonora hurried to back away as the woman continued toward her until she smacked into her car. Relief rushed through her, and she pulled the vehicle handle up.

The woman seemed more and more confused. "Please, please help us. Something is wrong. It's so wrong, but I can't—I can't remember what—"

Sonora's heart went out to them as she opened her car door. "I will help. I will find someone or call someone to come for you. Just stay here. I'll tell them you are here."

"No. Please. Help my mommy," the little boy said, tears flooding his eyes.

"I'm going to get help for your mommy, I promise."

The boy scrubbed his eyes with one hand as his mother pulled him along with the other. Seeing Sonora open her door, the mother scowled. "Don't leave us!" she ordered.

"I'm sorry. I will get help. I really will. Someone who can really help you."

Sonora fell into her car, her own eyes tearing up. The mother was clearly losing her reason, and the little boy was so scared. Did he understand what was happening?

Sonora pulled out her cell phone and groaned, then plugged it in. It was dead. The stupid thing.

She looked back at them and started the car. After backing out of the parking space and swinging around, she slowed down beside them.

"Stay here," she shouted through the window and drove on.

Sonora pulled out of the parking lot and circled around to the front of the building. She scanned the area for a police officer without success.

Pulling alongside the sidewalk, she tried to flag down a pedestrian. Maybe they had a phone. But he either didn't see her or ignored her.

Sonora sighed and straightened the car into a parking spot. After picking up her phone, she dialed but got a "circuits are busy" message. Wow, it'd been a long time since that had happened. Maybe a land phone would work. She jumped out of her car, and checked again for police officers, running to each end of the block and peeking down the crossroads. Still, with no success.

Sonora huffed and looked around as she walked back to where she began. She stood directly in front of the pawnshop. She'd been in here a couple of times before, and the guy in here was nice. Rick was his name if she remembered correctly. Maybe he would let her use his phone.

She gingerly pushed the door open. "Hello?"

"Hey! Cool. A customer. It's been a slow day." The disembodied voice became a Hawaiian-shirt clad young man. He swept back long bangs from his face.

Sonora looked him over. In spite of the fact, he looked perfectly healthy, she asked, "Have you been—coughing?"

"What?" He backed away. "No, man. You?"

Sonora shook her head. "No, but I was just down the road, and there was a sick woman. She had her boy with her. He looked fine. I told her I would get them help. Have you seen any police pass by here?"

"Not for a while. Wanna call?" He walked to the phone and held it out to her.

Sonora dialed 911 and waited. She pulled her lip between her teeth as the line clicked a few times, and let it go when it started to ring. After several chimes, someone answered the phone. Sonora reported all she could, but basically, she only knew the location and that the woman needed medical attention.

"We have a unit close to your location," the 911 operator said. "It will take a few minutes. Please stay at your location."

"Me? But I'm just reporting this. She isn't here. She and her son are at the parking lot behind the accounting firm, and I need to look—"

"I understand that ma'am, but the officer could have further questions. Could you stay at your location?”

Sonora frowned. Her parents were probably waiting for her, but what choice did she have? "Um, okay. Just a few minutes?"

"Yes, a few minutes."

After a couple more instructions, the operator had everything she needed and hung up. Sonora handed the phone back to the young man. When she did, her arm passed through a blacklight he had on the counter.

He gasped. "You're one of them!"

Confused, Sonora frowned. "What?"

"Atlantian." His voice was an awed whisper.

Sonora's stomach dropped. How did this guy know anything about her? "No. I don't know…" Her voice trailed off when he raised an eyebrow and stared at her. He did really know about them. She cleared her throat and got ready to run. "Just... a bit, I guess. How do you know?"

When he reached out to grab her arm, she took a few steps back.

"I'm not going to hurt you. Grandma always hinted we had some too but look." He stuck his arm under the light. "Nothing."

Sonora glanced from his arm to his face. "What are you talking about?"

He backed away from the counter and leaned against the wall behind it. "Now, put your arm under the light."

Sonora gave Rick the once-over, but his laid-back attitude proclaimed him harmless. She sidled to the counter and laid her arm below the blacklight.

A very faint pattern of colorful lines lay just below the top layer of skin. Why had she never noticed this before?

"What is this?" she whispered.

Rick raised an eyebrow. "You didn't know?"

Sonora shook her head.

"I don't know exactly what it is other than it means you're one of them. You should see it on a full-blooded one! I had a guy in here—lit up like fireworks on a dark night." Rick made an explosion sign with his hands. "Pretty impressive."

"An Atlantian was shopping here?" Sonora looked around, it seemed slightly surreal. Do Atlantians come to the surface to shop often?

"Big guy, dark hair. Ian was his name."

Sonora's jaw dropped. "My Ian?"

"Your Ian?"

“I’m-well, he's my fiancé, I guess."

Rick chuckled. "You guess?"

"No, he is." Sonora giggled. "It's new."

"Congrats!"

Sonora smiled, then looked to the ground. She needed to warn him about the AgFlu. Maybe he would listen. "This disease going around. Have you heard about it?"

"Yes. Nasty. Grandma called right before you stepped in here. She said, shut this place down and come home, we are gonna do some hibernating. That's what I plan on doing. Grandma's not wrong when it comes to these things."

"Sounds like a good plan. There's a cure. It's being taken to the Army base, so they should be dispensing it soon."

"Good. I had to bean two in the head on the way over here. Came after me." At Sonora's perplexed look, Rick pulled a slingshot out from under the counter.

"A slingshot?"

Rick picked it up, armed it, and aimed it down an aisle opposite of Sonora. "You'd be surprised what a deterrent it can be." He let the pellet go. In an instant, an old DVR player across the store rocked off its shelf and fell, exploding into pieces against the hard floor.

"Whoa!" Sonora made a mental note to pick up a slingshot.

The bell on the door chimed as a police officer strode through it. "We found the mother and son. We have them in an ambulance." He looked over Sonora and Rick. "You two feeling alright?"

Both of them nodded their heads.

"Has there been any word on a cure yet?" Sonora asked.

The officer shook his head. "I haven't heard of one yet. You two should head home. No sense in risking anything being out here."

Rick saluted the officer. "Yes, sir. It's what I intend on doing. Happy to do it too, I could use a little downtime."

Sonora stifled a chuckle. Just how exhausting was the pawn trade? She turned her gaze to the officer, who seemed to have the same question. "I'm going home too, officer."

A new home away from all this mess, far below sea level.

The officer left, and Sonora turned to leave. At the door, she turned back. "If your grandma says you're part Atlantian, then you probably are, and it might just be what saves you through this outbreak. I'll see you when this is all over."

Rick frowned, then gave her an exaggerated nod with a huge grin. "See ya then!"

She raced to her car, resolving to ask Ian if Rick could come to Atlantis. She wished everyone could come, but that was impossible. Reminding herself the cure would be given to everyone soon, she drove back to the accounting firm's parking lot. Maybe her family was back.

As she pulled into the lot, the ambulance with the mother and son pulled out. The little boy's face pressed against a small side window. Sonora waved to him, and he returned the wave. Relieved they would get the help they needed, she hoped things would get better for him even if there were little they could do for his mother.

Sonora drove the car through the parking lot. Still no parents. Where were they?

Fifty-One

In The House

Chapter Fifty-two

After finding a place to park, Sonora promised herself she’d wait only ten more minutes before hunting her parents down. She hoped Ian wasn't already at the beach waiting for them. He'd be worried it was taking her so long.

She turned on the radio and leaned back in her seat, determined not to worry about what she couldn't control. But when the ten minutes went by, her nerves were stretched almost to the breaking point.

Straightening in her seat, she started the car and pulled onto the road. As she headed to the main library, where her parents should be, she reassured herself, everything would be okay. Still, a frown settled and refused to leave her face.

After pulling into the library parking lot, she circled it, then drove around the block. Her parent's car was not here. She huffed out a breath. Now what?

There was a spot close to the door, and she took it. The full sun eased her worries. There was no murky alley here.

Sonora rushed inside, letting the hushed atmosphere calm her. She breathed in the scent of books, old and new, and smiled. Heading straight for the front desk, she scanned the area for a librarian. Maybe someone had seen her parents or sister.

The young librarian behind the counter raised her head and asked, "Can I help you?"

Sonora smiled at her. "Yes, my parents should have just been here looking for my sister. Sierra? Do you know her? Now I am looking for all of them."

The librarian chuckled. "Yes, they were here. They all flew out of here a little bit ago."

"Okay, thank you." She walked away, distracted. A bit ago? Why hadn't they made it back to her?

Once Sonora was back in her car, she pulled out her cell phone. A voice message notification showed on the screen. Why hadn't it beeped? She rolled her eyes. This old phone was always a problem!

Sonora pushed the alert. Her mother's voice trembled, ending on a high note. "Sonora, honey, we made it back, and you aren't here. Where are you?" Sonora could hear her father speaking in the background, then her mother talking with him. Azurine spoke into her cell phone again, "Dad just talked to a police officer who was here. He said you're okay. We have Sierra. We are meeting up with Bruce at their home so they can get a few items they want to take. Dad says, do not come to their house, it's downtown, and there are rumors there are more sick people there. He is adamant. Do not go downtown. He is already freaking out that you're alone. He says meet us at—" The message stopped. Sonora pulled the phone from her ear and watched it die. What? No! She just charged it!

Sonora banged it lightly on the steering wheel, then took out the battery and put it back in. Nothing. She groaned in frustration. She let her head bounce on the headrest and shot a glance at the library.

She raced back up to the desk and the same librarian. "Can I use your phone?"

The young librarian frowned. "Well, we really aren't—"

"It's an emergency."

The librarian looked at Sonora, doubt written over her face.

"It really is," Sonora said, leaning on the desk. "Really."

The librarian scanned the room. "Do not let my supervisor know this happened."

"I won't. I promise."

Sonora took the phone and turned her back to the central part of the library in case some irate supervisor tried to yank the phone from her hand. She dialed her mother's number. It rang three times, and the voicemail came on.

She put a hand to her head as she left a message. "Mom! I'm at the library, the one you went to. Yes, I'm fine, but your message cut off. I don't know where I'm supposed to meet you. My phone is dead. It died right before you said where to go." The woman frantically gestured at her, and an angry grey-haired woman barreled up to the counter. "Okay, well, be careful."

Sonora almost threw the phone at the young librarian and rushed out of the building. She didn't have the time or energy for a confrontation.

She rushed out to her car and plopped down in the seat. After pulling onto the road, she stopped along the side of it. Where was she going? She laid her head on the steering wheel. She hadn't even told them where she was going. Putting a hand to her face, she scolded herself about her oversight and stupid fear of grey-haired librarians.

Home. They would have to be going home, wouldn't they? That was the original plan. Get Sierra and Bruce, go home for some of the things they still had there and might want, meet Ian at the beach. If she went home, she could charge her phone. Then she could call her mom again if they weren’t there.

With a plan in mind, Sonora wiggled herself upright on her seat. A car tapped on their horn behind her, and she waved them an apology. Sonora drove home at the speed limit, barely. Light-headed from lack of food, and with a rumbling stomach, she reached into her purse, looking for the only food-like thing she had. Grabbing and discarding small items until she found what she was looking for, she sighed when her fingers felt the cellophane wrapper.

After popping the candy into her mouth, she grabbed the wheel tighter as the car shook. A strong wind gust. Sonora looked around, her gaze immediately going to the ever-darkening sky. It seemed the storm which had sat out over the sea sped up, nearly touched land. The massive, angry clouds hung so low in the sky, it seemed she could touch them. Definitely not the kind of clouds she needed to see with everything else going on.

Sonora pulled into her driveway and fought another gust to close her car door. The wind twirled her hair into knots, forcing her to hold it in order to open the house door.

Inside the unlit kitchen, she hollered everyone's name. There was no answer. The kitchen window rattled, reminding her to close the shutters. After plugging in her phone, Sonora pulled out a box of crackers and shoved a couple into her mouth, then pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She stepped out on the porch and shut all the shutters along the front of the porch, the others could be closed from inside the house.

On her way back in, she glanced at her grandfather's. It needed to be protected too. She stepped inside long enough to get his key from the key hook and fought the increasing wind as she rushed across the driveway separating the houses.

After securing her grandfather's home, she looked over at Uncle Devon and Aunt Claire's house. The wind pushed at her as she stared at it, dark except for a small light in Uncle Devon's office. Her heart sank, and she sobbed out a gasp. She couldn't face going in there.

Sonora ran back to her house, a hand covering her mouth. Memories of the day spun through her mind. She needed to stop this! Other things were happening now. Tumbling, through the kitchen door, she plopped down on a chair and shoved a few more crackers in her mouth.

Sonora checked the time. It'd taken her almost an hour to get here and get the houses secured. Where was her family?

She reached onto the counter and picked up her phone. No notifications. In fact, no anything, just a black screen. What? Not now! She shook the phone and pushed buttons, but still nothing. She slammed it onto the counter and heard a small crack. Well, that wasn't good. She felt like crying.

Laying her crossed arms on the table, she lowered her head and took a few deep breaths. After she calmed down, she walked to the living room, looking for any cell phones someone may have left behind.

She could just go to the beach, but Sonora needed to know her family was okay. She wouldn't leave without them. At the window facing her uncle's house, she stopped. Of the three houses, his was the only one with a land phone. She shuddered. She didn't know if she would be able to force herself to go over there. To walk through his house.

She didn't have a choice. She had to.

After taking their key from the hook, she weighed it in her hand. Why did it suddenly feel so heavy? Wrapping her fingers around it, she ignored the frightening whispers floating through her mind. He was gone. Far away—in jail. He couldn't get her.

Her pep talk didn't make the hole in the pit of her stomach feel any better.

Once again, she walked out into the dark day, this time, leaving the kitchen door unlocked as she shut it. She weaved like a drunk person as she navigated the stiff breeze.

At the edge of their yard, Sonora stopped and stared at the dark windows of her uncle's house before she bent her head and continued toward it. Something nagged at her as an icy finger trailed down her spine.

Sonora dragged her feet up the stairs and onto the front porch. Wait.

She stopped, her head jerking up. The light. The light in Uncle Devon's office was off. It had been on before. The lingering chill exploded through her middle, and she ducked.

Someone was in the house.

Fifty-Two

Dark Storm

Chapter Fifty-Three

Sonora clamored back down the porch steps and ducked behind it. She glanced at her house. Could she make it back there without being seen? It was an open yard all the way. Her teeth came down on her lip. Maybe they had already seen her.

She turned to stare at one of Devon’s windows. Maybe it was just the police. But wouldn’t they have turned on more lights? What use was it to skulk around in a dark house?

It was more likely one of Devon's cohorts looking for research.

Her gaze darted between the two houses. She had to get across that yard, back to hers, where it was safe.

Sonora geared herself up twice and failed to move. The third time would be it, no exceptions. A crash sounded from inside Devon’s house. Her eyes flew to the living room window. Someone moved in the unlit room.

Her stomach lurched. Sonora moved on instinct, crouching as she scurried for her house. Reaching her kitchen door, she panted as she yanked it open and quietly shut it. After twisting the lock in place, she leaned back against the door, closing her eyes.

Sonora opened them to see a shadow passing the one window, over the sink, she hadn't shuttered. Heart thundering, she dropped to the floor and skittered across the room, clenching the cabinets below the window. The shadow stepped closer to the opening, peering through it.

Sonora cowered on the floor, her breath coming in gasps. She peeked, only to see the shadow moving, walking toward the kitchen door.

Sonora exploded off the floor, cursing all the lights she’d left on. The doorknob rattled.

In pure panic, she raced up the stairs to her parent's room and deep into their large walk-in closet, back under the rarely used clothes. Dust wavered in the air as she plunged deeper into the neglected corner.

Sonora clapped her hands over her mouth when a faint voice ask, "Is anyone home?"

Ian! Oh, Ian! What she wouldn’t give for him to be here! Would he hear her desperate, puny efforts to call him? Or was he too far away?

The stairs squeaked, and she wiggled herself back until she felt the solid cedar wall behind her. Shuddering as she held back a sneeze, she strained her ears for every small sound.

Footsteps on the carpet were hard for her to keep track of, but it seemed the person went from Sierra’s room to her own before walking into her parents.

She put her hands to her chest, trying to ease the panicked weight that sat there, robbing her of breath.

Every muscle cried out for her to move, escape. But there was nowhere to run. The shadow, which she could now see was a man, cut off any hope of freedom.

A bolt of panic seized her as he walked to the closet door and stopped. Her eyes stretched wide, she tried to identify him. But with the closet light out, he remained little more than a dark form.

There was a long rattle downstairs. Perhaps the wind, maybe someone trying to get in. The made a sudden turn and rushed out of the room. After a minute, the kitchen door banged shut.

Sonora didn't move. What if it was a trick? What if he waited down there in the dark, hoping she would give herself away?

Sonora waited. Without a clock, she wasn't sure for how long. It seemed like forever, but she worried it was only a few minutes.

Then, as quietly as possible, she crept across her parent's room to look out their large window. Staying low and ready to speed back to the closet, she grabbed the casement and clung to it as she stared at her Uncle and Aunt’s home.

Through the heavy rain, she saw a different light now glowed in another window. Was he back there then? Or had he turned that on before coming after her?

Sonora gnawed on her lip. She couldn't just stay here forever—he might come back. She needed to leave.

Sonora crept to her bedroom and retrieved a backpack, careful of every squeaky floorboard. She stopped at the top of the stairs and peered down the staircase, but from here, she couldn't see anything.

With her back to the wall, Sonora slid down the staircase. Her heart hammered so loud she was sure it echoed through the room.

At the bottom, Sonora stopped and gulped in a breath. Her gaze darted from the living room to the kitchen. Still, no one. Okay, that was good. Just a little more and she would be out of here.

But from the door to the car will be no picnic either. One thing at a time, from here to the kitchen door. No, not the kitchen door. Not yet. The car keys were in her purse, which was on the living room couch.

Sonora practically tiptoed through the room, worried he tracked every movement, worried he waited in the shadows for the right moment to grab her. She snatched her purse and pressed her back up against the wall leading to the kitchen. Slowly, she crept into the kitchen.

Her tensed jaw started to ache, and Sonora loosened and wiggled it only to clench it again a moment later. She scanned the kitchen. Still, no one. Maybe it would be okay.

Sonora’s gaze zeroed in on her phone, which still sat on the countertop charging. Glowing like some beacon in the night. Had he seen that? Of course, he had.

A fist of fear squeezed at her heart. But she grabbed her phone and tripped her way over the threshold to the outdoors. She stood there, holding the doorknob, ready to jump back into the house.

The wind caught the door, pushing at it, but she clung to it as she surveyed the yard. Surely, he wouldn’t be waiting out here for her, not in this storm. She stepped further out and was soaked in an instant. But it seemed safe.

Sonora turned to close the kitchen door just as the wind tore it from her hand, slamming it against the wall. She took a step into the kitchen and wrapped her hand around the doorknob.

The window above the sink caught her eye. The one she hadn’t shuttered. The one she’d seen the shadow through.

It was closed.

A chill exploded through Sonora. She jerked the door shut and raced for the car. Every burst of wind felt like his breath against her neck.

She reached the car and pulled the handle. It was locked. She plunged her hand into her purse, feeling for the rough edge of keys. She turned her back to the car so she could see what was coming.

He was taken away in handcuffs, he couldn't be back here. He couldn't.

Her fingers closed around metal. Hands shaking, she managed to fit the key to the lock after a nervous couple tries. She jerked open the door and jumped into the seat, slamming it shut behind her. Sonora jabbed the key into the ignition.

Lightning blazed against the dark sky, and for a moment, it was day again.

He was coming across the yard at her.

Sonora turned the key while locking the doors. The old car sputtered. Come on! When it rumbled to life, Sonora gave thanks.

Slamming the car into reverse, she floored the gas. The vehicle shot backward, throwing gravel until she got to the paved lane. Shoving it into drive, she passed her house, then Devon’s. The man turned and followed, running after her.

She stared at him. Was it Devon? How could it be? But perhaps, someone just as dangerous.

She sped up until she reached the end of the lane and met the two-lane road. Sonora turned right, not for any good reason, simply because she needed to go somewhere. But now, as she finally caught her breath and her heart found its more natural rhythm, she needed to make a decision.

Sonora drove aimlessly. Clearly, her parents had not wanted her to meet at their house, or they would have been there long ago. Her mother had plainly said not to meet at Sierra's. What did that leave?

One place kept drifting into her mind. Coming back, again and again, no matter how unlikely it seemed. The beach. Just go to the beach.

Sonora stared at the angry sky, felt the wind pushing at the car, and could only imagine the mood of the ocean. She wanted to find her family first and stick to the original plan. The beach was the last place she should be until Ian, and his people took her there.

But even as the thought crossed her mind, she felt the pull again.

Maybe it was Ian drawing her there. Sonora did a U-turn on the empty road. The rain had let up, and now only a few fat raindrops splashed onto her windshield.

The ten-minute drive to Spire Beach seemed an hour, and her gaze continually darted to the dark swirling sky. She prayed she wasn’t making a mistake, moving farther away from where she should be.

Relief filled her when she saw her parent's vehicle at the beach parking lot sitting in a spot close to the sand. She sped to it, parked the car, and jumped out.

It was empty. Sonora looked from the vehicle to the churning sea. Had they taken them to Atlantis through those waters? Had they left her?

Sonora put a hand to her stomach. She stepped into the sand, kicking off her sandals when the grains caught between her feet and her shoes. If she went into the ocean, would he hear her then?

Her dress buffeted around her legs, the wind pushing against her in hard gusts. She stumbled on.

"Ian! Ian!" she screamed into the salty wind. She yelled again, her body bending at the effort. "Ian!"

Ian rose from the sea like a majestic king, the water streaming off his tanned skin. Sonora stilled, afraid he was some kind of illusion she’d made up to calm herself, and that this storm would swallow her up after all.

He moved through the violent waves, his body powerful and sure even when they beat against him.

He was here. Her salvation, her love.

Sonora dropped to her knees, the sand softening the blow. Her head bowed, sobbing in relief.

Ian’s bare feet appeared in the sand in front of Sonora. Nothing had ever seemed so beautiful.

His muscled arms lifted her. Nothing had ever felt so safe.

His lips met hers. Nothing had ever tasted so incredible.

"You are safe now, Edinara. We go home to Atlantis."

Nothing had ever sounded so right.

Fifty-Three

The New Way Home

Chapter Fifty-Four

Sonora glanced at the driver of the underwater contraption Ian had put her on and snuggled against him on the bench seat. Only now, under the waves, had she stopped shaking.

Ian ran a hand down the back of her head. “I heard you call for me, my love. You are getting stronger. I was coming for you.”

She smiled, happy to know she was getting the hang of this Atlantian thing. Sonora scanned the vehicle, unsure what to call it and looked up at Ian. "So, an underwater minivan?"

Ian made a show of almost choking. "I am aware that minivans are disdained by most human males. Atlantians do not have minivans. It is a—” Ian spouted some unintelligible Atlantian word.

“Oh, right. Cause you’re uber cool.”

Ian smirked. “If you insist.”

Sonora barked out a laugh. “And I’ll never be able to say that word.”

Ian frowned. "You will need to learn Atlantian."

Sonora chuckled at his concern. "I know, but could we start with something easier?"

"Yes. Let us begin with all the words of love." Ian grinned as he pulled her tighter and ran a finger down her cheek. “So soft.” His eyes lit at the sparkle in her gaze.

Sonora put a hand on Ian's neck. "I want to learn them all, but first, I'd like to know where everyone is."

“As I said, they are safe. However, let me further ease your mind. Your family is on, let us settle on the word—transport—ahead of us. They were distraught you had not arrived at the beach." Ian kissed the top of Sonora's head. "I did not tell them that I felt your fear." He lowered his gaze to hers, a question in his eyes. “Tell me.”

Sonora caught her lip between her teeth as the fear resurfaced, then she explained the terrors at the parking lot and her house.

Ian's troubled face darkened. "I would be pleased if you never stepped foot on land again."

Sonora laid a hand on his forearm. "Love, please don't say that."

"I could order it."

"And please, not that either. It won't go over well." Sonora vigorously shook her head. "Not at all."

Ian sat straighter. "I will be your husband, and one day sit on the council."

"Oh, lord," Sonora mumbled as she laughed. She barely kept his ego in check as it was now.

"Some cultures would argue that term also appropriate."

She rolled her eyes. In his dreams. "Please, stop."

Ian's stern face gave way to a plea. "It is my duty to keep you safe, and I will do anything necessary. I wish never to worry over you again."

"I know. That I understand. Danger is bad. But I'm afraid worrying is inevitable at some point. Let's just keep it to a minimum. And discussions instead of orders will be appreciated. Deal?"

"Yes, Jata Ara. An excellent deal." Ian lowered his forehead to hers.

Sonora drank in Ian's intense gaze until his eyes darkened, and he pulled her tighter. She threw a glance at the driver and brought up a new subject. "What about Jorah? Did he get the cure where it needed to go?"

Ian leaned back on his seat, one arm still around Sonora. "Yes. He gave the cure to the leader of the local military base. That man assured Father it will get where it needs to go."

"I was hoping Jorah would oversee that." Sonora made a face.

Ian scoffed. "Have you so little faith in your kind. We have done everything else, surely they are able to dole it out to their people."

Sonora twisted her hands in her lap. "I hope so."

Ian chided her. "It is usually I who disparages the humans, and you telling me I am wrong."

Sonora smiled. "I know. I'm sure they can handle it. All they have to do it get it to the people. How can they mess that up, right?"

"Right."

"And Nick?"

"On his way to our past."

Sonora sighed. "Now what?"

Ian raised a questioning eyebrow. Sonora giggled and asked, "With us? Here, in Atlantis."

"We get married." Ian's tone was firm, but it didn’t irritate her one bit. Married to him is what she wanted to be. "The instant we get home to Atlantis, and I never let you out of my sight again."

Sonora's eyes widened. "The instant, uh?"

"The instant. Mother probably has everything arranged already."

Sonora laughed as she stared at Ian. "You're serious!"

He waved his hand. "I'm sure your mother had some input too."

"Ian! Give me a moment to breathe."

Ian changed his high-handed tactics and instead pulled her closer, murmuring in her ear, "You have a whole lifetime to do that." He lifted her face to his. "I have waited so long for you, mourned you thinking I had lost you forever. Please be mine, my heart. Be mine the instant you can."

Ian locked eyes with Sonora, not letting her go. She swam in the grey depths, her heart melting at his words. Everything he said was true. She had almost wrecked this man.

Ian knew the moment she gave in. His eyes gleamed as he gave her a triumphant smirk.

Sonora smacked his chest and wagged a finger at him. "Not the instant. I hope that was not literal. But—"

"Within hours."

"Within days, and I get some input too!"

"Thank you, Edinara.” Ian picked Sonora up and sat her on his lap, joyfully planting one small kiss after another on her face.

Sonora giggled and reddened as she tried to free herself, throwing a glance at the laughing driver. She trapped Ian's face between her two hands, but that only encouraged him to become more serious. Cradling Sonora in his arms, Ian lowered his lips to hers.

She enjoyed Ian's attention but would only allow so much in front of an audience. She slid back into her place beside him.

"Atlantis will be in view any minute, and I don't want to miss it."

Sonora held her breath in anticipation. This was it. Her new way home, and she didn't want to miss a moment of it. This time she would enjoy the city in all its splendor. Appreciating the man beside her instead of worrying over who or what he was.

A faint sparkle started up ahead. Sonora grabbed Ian's hand and held it to her. She glanced at him, her blue eyes as brilliant as the glow of Atlantis.

"Look! We are there!" She shifted in her seat to get a better view out the large side window.

Ian curled his large hand into her small one, a warmth filling every inch of his body. This moment is what he had waited for, longed for. He was taking Sonora home, his Intended, his beloved, his heart.

Fifty-Four

Not Problem at All

Chapter Fifty-six

Five days later, Sonora stood at one side of the Atlantis Memorial Garden with Ian at the other. The glow of pride filled her chest as she saw him in his dark-blue pants and jacket. He’d never been so handsome, so majestic. She could easily see him, years from now, filling a seat at the council. And it was clear, from the many nods of approval, most of the Atlantians did too. She smiled. Her human heritage wouldn’t hurt him one bit.

The room was bursting with the sight and smell of thousands of colorful blooms. It was as if every flower was forced to perform for this special day. Sonora raised her multi-colored bouquet and drank in the scent, giggling. Knowing Atlantians, they had some almost-magical way of doing that.

She’d learned a lot about them these past few days. Yes, Atlantians were somewhat arrogant and judgmental when it came to humans. How many times had her family surprised them with their quick intellect? There was so much to learn. But they were also extremely hospitable, generous, and caring. It was sometimes comical to watch them struggle with the different sides of their own nature.

Her own husband-to-be was a perfect example. So sure anything Atlantian was superior but unable to bring himself to degrade humans now that he cared for so many of them.

Sonora waited for the music to start the bride’s tune, her father beside her. Ian and his family had allowed a mixture of both cultures. Aleena and Azurine had worked together to blend them seamlessly and developed a budding friendship in the process.

Her father would walk her down the walkway, and they would add traditional human vows to the Atlantian ones. One said after the other. This way, both the bride and groom understood the full weight of the pledge they took.

Ian had chosen her dress, as was the custom of his people. She carefully ran a hand over her hip. He couldn’t have done better. Light blue, the color of the sea on a sunny day, it reflected all the bright flecks in her eyes and enhanced them. She wasn’t sure what the underlay material was, but the overlay was of the finest, hand-created lace with some areas as thin as a web. It was amazing.

When she had opened the box, her heart almost stopped, especially when she noticed the Orca clan’s design running in darker thread down the arm. She’d cried happy tears, and Ian beamed as he held her. But that hadn’t been the end. The sapphires she wore, an Orca heirloom, were now hers. Necklace, earrings, and even some small ones woven through her blonde hair. Every time Sonora moved, she sparkled.

The song started, and Mike held out an arm to his daughter. “I love you, Sunny.”

Sonora sniffed back her tears and nodded. “I love you too, Dad.”

“Never thought we’d be doing this under a ton of water.” Mike eyed the ceiling nervously. He still wasn’t used to undersea living.

Sonora patted his hand. “It’s okay. This place has been around a long time and it will continue on for awhile longer, I’m sure.”

She looked up the aisle. Ian’s intense stare beckoned her toward him. One step forward meant a whole new future. Bright joy flared through her as she moved toward her true love.

Ian’s heart leaped as Sunny seemed to float down the center aisle left open for her. The others were filled with happy family and friends. Any with reservations over adding humans to Atlantis had gotten over it in the last few days.

He sighed. Five long days of getting this Joining orchestrated while he had to wait for what he wanted. The women just laughed and told him he’d appreciate Sunny more. They’d wanted a week. He countered with three days and didn’t budge until Sunny had looked at him, and he’d drowned in her blue gaze. He’d given in to five, but could give no more. The men gave him understanding looks.

Those women had taken almost every minute of the time he allowed.

Sunny stopped on her way to him, to kiss her mother and hug her grandfather. Blake had not been incarcerated on his return. The council was true to their word. He worked for the city, which he seemed to enjoy. Ian had again addressed the council asking for Blake to remain a clan member, but they couldn’t see their way to that. This seemed to bother him more than Blake. How Ian would have loved for Sunny and her family to have four clans behind them even if he was continually assured the Orca would be enough.

At the dais, Sunny stopped at the bottom of the three stairs, looking up at him under her lashes. Ian gasped, his body warming. Her beauty was almost too much for him.

She turned and kissed her father and passed her bouquet to her sister. He’d asked her to take her vows as an Atlantian woman would, her hands joined with his. He reached out to her, both with his hand and his heart, to help her up the steps.

Sunny shivered and smiled as she sensed him. It was getting more comfortable for her now, and he wouldn’t hold back on this special day.

Sonora stumbled slightly on the top step, tightening her hand on his, and made a face. “I ruined it!” she murmured.

Ian shook his head. “No, Edinara. Your stumbles endear me to you. And it allows me to rescue you, even here in the safety of our kingdom.”

Sunny chuckled, then pulled in a breath as his hand slid around her upper waist. “I’ll be sure to need a lot of rescuing if you hold me like this.”

The officiant cleared his throat and began using a mixture of each language. When the time came to make their vows to each other, Ian slid his fingers through hers. A friend stepped up and tied a dark-blue ribbon shot with silver around their clasped hands.

Ian’s words were confident and sure, loud enough for the entire assembly to hear. Sunny started three times before chasing away her nerves. A little infusion of courage pushed her way from Ian helped. In the end, each guest clearly heard each promise, as was the Atlantian way.

There were no rings to exchange. The Orca clan tattoo Sunny would get tomorrow proclaimed she belonged with Ian now, and he would get an addition to his. They did exchange a kiss. A human tradition Ian had no problem with. Neither, it seemed, did the audience. They broke out in applause.

Sunny moved toward the stairs, and Ian reached for her. “The ceremony is not completed yet.”

Her mouth formed an o, and she went back to her spot.

Butterflies seemed to attack Sonora’s stomach. This was all they had talked about, what else was there? All she could think was, please don’t let this be something weird. Why didn’t he prepare her better for these things?

Ian was handed a large bowl. He dropped to his knees in front of her, holding the bowl for her inspection. She looked everywhere but him, hoping someone would tell her what to do. But Ian demanded her attention. His ‘look at me’ was clear.

So she did. Looked at his face and then cautiously looked into the bowl. She frowned.

Ian nodded.

She reached toward the bowl, then away. “I’m not sure—”

The officiant announced, “The contents of the bowl represent this man’s courage, and his ability to support this woman. She will now examine it.” He made a scooping motion and winked at her.

Sonora smiled and dipped her hand into the bowl filled with shark’s teeth of many sizes and combined with jewels of every color. She let them fall from her hand, sparkling on their way back to the bowl. It seemed a small part of the ceremony to her, but she sensed Ian’s nerves. She saw the uncertainty in his gaze. It was important. “This seems like a lot,” she whispered.

“It is a massive amount,” the officiant murmured. “Now, you must accept them. Take them from him if you plan to stay with him.”

“Of course, I plan on staying with him! Why do you think I’m here?” Sonora worked at keeping her voice low.

Ian’s body shook as he tried to hold back his laughter.

“It is a tradition. You may keep them or give them to your family.” The man raised his voice for the entire group. “The wealth in this man’s hands is substantial. It will be a protection for any who hold it. The teeth, though having no monetary worth, loudly proclaim this man’s courage and strength. They are the remnants of the great whites he has felled with his own hands.”

Sonora didn’t think twice. She bent and kissed Ian, taking the bowl from his hands. “Of course, I’ll take it,” she whispered. “No need to be nervous.”

She turned to the audience. “Dad?” When he stepped up, she handed him the bowl. Mike took it and nodded at Ian before returning to his place.

She moved back to her new husband as he rose to his feet. Love, pride, and joy swirled through him and she could feel it. “Now, are we done?”

“Now, we are done.”

Frowning, Sonora tipped her head. “Ian? You’re glowing, like really glowing.”

He smiled and tipped his head to the audience. She looked out at the many faces. Each Atlantian glowed from white to light-blue to some extent, though none of them as much as her new husband. “What’s happening?”

“Well, I suppose now that I understand what makes us Atlantian, I should say it is our added DNA. But instead I will say what we have always believed it is, what it feels like. Unbelievable joy and ultimate happiness dancing together. Do you not feel it?”

“Of course, I’m so, so happy and—oh!”

The emotion Ian shared with her was far beyond any she’d ever felt on her own. No wonder he was glowing, she soon would be too. “Ian, this is—this is—”

He leaned toward her and raised an eyebrow. “This is nothing. Later, I will teach you how to really glow.”

Sonora giggled and grabbed his arm, shyly looking at him. “I look forward to it.”

“As do I.” Ian wrapped his arm around her. “Now, let us eat, and do this dancing you are so fond of.”

At the end of the celebration, Ian and Sunny said goodnight to all their guests. He picked her up and carried her out of the dining hall as she waved to everyone. A few steps out of the door, Sunny said, “You can put me down now.”

Ian bounced her in his arms. “I like this human tradition.”

“I see that. But it’s not meant for all the time.”

“Yes, just through doors.”

“Well, not all doors. Just the one we left, and our own.”

Ian hmphed. “Maybe I will carry you all the time.”

“That would be impractical.”

“Not for me.”

Sunny laughed. “Think about it, Ian. It’s highly impractical.”

He shrugged, barely containing his laughter. “I say it is not. And I will not put you down until I desire to do so.”

Sunny stared at him, her brows raised. “Are you teasing me? You are teasing me.” She slapped him on the shoulder.

His body rocked with amusement. “You are so entertaining when your eyebrows go up like that. I cannot help myself.”

At their home, Sunny turned the knob, and Ian kicked it open. He took a big step over the threshold. “There. Was that done correctly?”

“Very correctly. Perfectly.”

Sunny wiggled out of his arms and started to walk away. Ian grabbed her hand and softly said, “Where are you going?”

She blushed and looked at the ground. “Just to, you know, get changed.”

Ian tugged on her, wrapping his arms around her when she landed against him. “No. No, you are not. You are staying right here with me.”

His gaze roamed her flushed face, and he bent her back over his arm before bringing his lips to hers. Warmth and then fire raced through both of them, separately and together. Each felt every flame licking at the other. By the time he was finished, Ian was supporting her.

“Now,” he said. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Sunny reached a hand to his neck and tugged him back to her. “No problem. No problem at all.”

Fifty-Five

Save The World

Major Kenneth Woodward sputtered a laugh. You could have knocked him over with a feather when the King of Atlantis walked in his office.

Not really a king, he guessed, but my, my, did he look the part. All gussied up in that blue lightweight armor, striding into his office like he owned the place, his own squad of warriors at his side.

Jorah. That's what he said his name was. He’d given Woodward his next mission before he went back to the ocean.

Take the cure for this god-awful disease to the proper place. Get it distributed to the people. Save the world.

What self-respecting military man wouldn't want a mission like that? Isn't that what they all lived for? An honest-to-goodness save-the-world mission?

Major Woodward sputtered a few more times. He wished he could've completed this one.

It seemed a good idea at the time. A small detail would be sent out to move the cure from the base in South Carolina to the medical facility in Virginia. A large convoy would attract too much attention.

The word was out. Atlantis existed and was the answer to the disease destroying humankind. The President had been sure it would be too dangerous to make a big deal of taking the cure the few hours north. Small and quiet was safer.

Until it wasn't.

Just past the Virginia border, less than an hour from their destination, it happened. A large group of confused, aggressive Infected rampaging the countryside attacked the army Jeep ahead of the Major's.

Whatever the Infected threw into that vehicle was the end of that car full of soldiers in an instant. An explosion and fire made sure those brave men would never grapple with the AgFlu.

The Infected had come after the Major's Jeep next. The Major had pulled the case with the cure close to him. His brawny arms closed around it like steel bands as the soldier driving the Jeep weaved around the road trying to get past the crazed group of Infected fighters.

Another explosion to their side and an unfortunate turn toppled the Major's Jeep. Woodward was quick though. With the help of the one conscious soldier, they exited through the window, which was now above them, pulling the case with them.

The two stood on the vehicle towering above the milling crowd below. The Major tried to get their attention, tried to tell them what he held in his hands, that it could save them. But his pleading couldn't be heard above their frightened screeches and angry screams.

With regret, the Major ordered the soldier to fire into the crowd, and he did the same, hoping they would scatter. But the mob was too large and too angry to care.

Instead, they swarmed the Jeep, pulling the soldier and the Major to the ground. The two military men fought them off, grabbing the case and running for the open field alongside the road.

One tall man with glassy eyes picked up a large tree branch and swung it, striking the soldier who ran for his life beside the Major. Injured, perhaps dead, he dropped to the ground.

The tall man pulled the gun from the dead soldier's hand. He shot toward the back of the still moving Major. He missed. Grimacing at his marksmanship, he passed the gun off to the short man beside him and ran after the military man.

Major Woodward shoved away the voice berating him. A bad feeling had haunted him about this mission from the get-go, but he’d ignored it. After all, what choice did he have? How did one turn down a save-the-world mission?

But when he felt a sharp sting to his leg and the limb stopped working as it should, when he stumbled backward, dropping the case, and felt a tremendous pressure push through the middle of his body, he knew he should have listened to his gut.

He should have had the largest convoy he could muster.

Now he sat on the ground, the same branch that impaled him also held him upright. The Major tried to huff out a warning but even though his mouth moved, no sound came out.

"What is this? Why is it so important?" the tall man sneered as he kicked the case containing the cure.

A shorter man rubbed his runny nose as he bent down and tried to open it. "It's locked." He pointed the soldier's gun at the case's lock, then changed his mind and bashed the case with the gun until it opened. The short man threw it open to reveal the vials within.

The tall man reached down and picked up one of the precious tubes, holding it to the light. "What is this?" he asked again, turning to the Major.

The military man strained to pull in enough breath to huff out what needed said. The tall man bent closer to hear him. "It's... the..."

Glass and plastic shattered, flying high into the air as the short man blasted the open case with his borrowed gun.

The Major's eyes widened, then shut. "...cure."

The tall man stepped back in surprise. He crouched desperately searching the case for any vials still intact. "They're gone! They're all gone!"

The Major's eyes flooded with tears. They streamed down his face. It was the first time he remembered crying since he was a boy. If he could have shrugged, he would have. He reckoned if a man was going to cry, the day he died was a good day to do it.

Maybe all this was bound to happen anyway. Or maybe he would've saved the world if he'd listened to his gut. Who knew?

The Major shook his head as he exhaled his last breath. Now, no one would be saved. No one at all.

Sanctuary’s Aggression 8: The Rescue

Prologue

One glimpse at the sleepy seaside town, and there was no mistaking the devastation that had rolled over it. It took a second, third, or even a fourth look to see that what it left was truly evil.

The hurricane had hit it hard, and even as the violent storm blasted its way through the town, another calamity was underway.

The AgFlu tore through the population.

Infants to the elderly fell victim to one or the other.

The very strong held on for a while, clinging and crying during the worst of the screaming winds—limp and defeated when they were over—shivering in fear of contracting the dreadful disease.

Even some of these, with time, the AgFlu overtook.

The wounded souls roamed the town’s dusty ruins in their sickened condition for weeks, hoping each day would bring their release from the disgusting illness. Until they couldn’t hope at all, were just some shell of a person with little sanity, forever roving from one street to another, a danger to anyone left.

Even through all this, some fortunate lived, though most doubted the word applied. Their homes destroyed—the world’s fate reflected in their once lovely town—they saw only ruined houses open to the elements and streets filled with debris.

Somehow, they had survived the gale-force winds, disease, and attacks of the Sick and Infected, only to be lost at how to continue with the gift they had somehow held on to, the gift of life.

All eyes turned to the only intact building left, a concrete dome once used for enjoyment and education—a safe place.

One by one, the healthy turned up at its doors, and were welcomed into the building.

Once invited in, the healthy newcomers never left.

Newcomers first noted its cleanliness, then as they were led deeper into the center of the building, the pristine white countertops lined with test tubes, beakers, and Petri dishes.

Men and women in white coats, pens in hand, and glasses firmly planted on their faces breathed through masks as they investigated their findings. Their gloved fingers quickly scribbled into notebooks as they checked and doubled checked all their numbers.

The White Coats were convinced that everything they did, good or evil, had to be done, needed to be done, to save everyone, or maybe just to save someone.

As newcomers entered the specimen room, they heard the small animals chattering. Mice, hamsters, and rats skittered to the back of their cages in fear. Screeching primates screamed their distress.

The sure feeling of safety cocooning the newcomers since they had arrived fled at what they saw next.

Men, women, and even children occupied the cages. They moaned and cried as they tried to console one another.

“It’s for the good of all humankind,” the White Coats told the newcomers as they pushed them into the barred enclosures.

Fear and pain ruled their lives now.

Pain came from the scientists.

Fear from what the cages across them held.

The large human-like beings raged against their imprisonment, wrenching at their thicker bars. With little room to move, they roared their distress until someone came to calm them—either with a needle or a cattle prod.

Everyone trembled when someone new walked into the room, accompanied by two assistants. The attractive, dark-haired man in a suit and a lab coat looked like someone who would set everything right. But they had already learned nothing here was as it seemed.

The man waved toward their cages. “We’re going to need more of them. These won’t last long.”

The assistants cringed.

“There are not many left out there,” one brave assistant said.

The dark-haired leader glared at her.

The assistant licked her lips and was quick to say, “Jack’s out there. He’s been going further afield to find good specimens. He’s due back. Perhaps he’ll have something.

The leader nodded and pointed to the caged men, women, and children. “Let these go in the usual place.”

Then he pointed to the beings across the room. “And do what we usually do with these abominations. Get more as quick as possible—we needed them yesterday. We can’t have this holding us up.”

The men, women, and children cried in happiness over their release as they looked across the way and thanked God they weren’t those beings.

This was the new normal in the small town of Seaside.

Dread was the companion of every resident. Fear was their ruler.

One

Taken

Skye glanced down the hill one last time, praying Jesse would get away. Let him make it home—for his own sake, at least—and hopefully for her and Kelsey, too.

Someone gave her back a light push-just a reminder of what she’d promised.

To stay with Kelsey--and be taken wherever it was Jack that took his victims.

Heaven help them both.

Skye slid into the back seat of the car, a cold quaking in the pit of her stomach. She tested the rope Mark had tied around her wrists. It was not as tight as it could have been, and he’d tied them in front of her.

That may come in handy.

Skye reached for Kelsey, lifting her arms over the girl’s head, laying them around her shoulders, and pulling her close.

The girl trembled.

Skye tightened her arms, hoping the embrace would offer some comfort. Since the world had turned upside-down, this poor child had gone through so much—no doubt she imagined the worse.

Skye would be the same except for Dylan’s instructions.

Stay alert during turbulent situations. Forget what could happen. Focus on what was happening. A way out could come, most likely with a small window of opportunity.

She needed to stay sharp.

Outside the car, two of Jack’s men said something to Reed and Spencer and bashed them again with the wooden ends of their rifles.

Spencer dropped to the pavement and stayed there.

Reed held a hand to his bloody scalp as he crouched above him and stared at Skye.

“We will find you,” he mouthed to her.

Despite her resolve, tears filled Skye’s eyes and threatened to fall.

She nodded.

Maybe a proper leader would tell them not to follow—to keep themselves safe—but right now, she was too frightened to be a good leader.

Skye wanted out of this situation, and if Reed felt he had any semblance of a plan, she wouldn’t say no.

The front car doors opened and closed. Skye stared at the leader, Jack, and one of his goons from beneath her lashes as they jumped into the front seat.

Jack sat on the passenger side, dragging his seat belt down his middle, a big grin on his face.

“Safety first!” he said as he threw a glance back at Skye and Kelsey. “Make sure you buckle up. You’re precious cargo.”

Kelsey glanced at Skye with a question in her eyes.

Skye nodded at her and put her own seatbelt on. As much as she wanted to ignore everything the man said, this wasn’t the time to make a stand. The last few moments had just proven that.

Jack’s vicious attack on their group showed how far he would go to get what he wanted.

Skye looked back as they drove away. Spencer raised his head and frowned as if trying to get his bearings.

Some tension left her once she saw him up and moving.

For a long while, the car was deathly quiet. For that, Skye was grateful. Her nerves were stretched too thin to listen to Jack’s prattle.

She and Kelsey studied every turn the driver took, sharing a look and a nod over directions to memorize. It was critical they remember the way home.

After a while, Jack glanced at Skye and asked, “Have you been out and about lately?”

She compressed her lips into a firm line. There was no way she would chit-chat with the man who was putting mile after mile between her and Dylan.

“Come on,” Jack said, eyeing her. “Can’t you be civil? It’s a simple question.”

One eyebrow arched, Skye turned and looked out the window beside her.

Jack cleared his throat. “You know, I’ve been real nice to you so far. You’re just sitting there, pretty as you please, on a seat. I should have hogtied and thrown you in the trunk. But I’ve been neighborly.”

Anger lit in Skye’s belly. “Neighborly? You call kidnapping neighborly?”

“I thought we already went over that. Do we need to again?”

“No!” She didn’t want to hear his asinine reasoning—that she and Kelsey had “volunteered” to go with him.

“Fine then,” Jack said. “Back to my original question, have you been out and about much?”

Skye hadn’t realized it until now, but other than her unsuccessful jaunt to retrieve her parents, she hadn’t been further than the superstore since she’d started living on Cole’s Mountain. “No, I haven’t been.”

“Umm. It’s gotten rough out here. If you think I’m bad . . . well, let’s just say, most often, I’m the good guy.”

“That’s hard to believe.”

Jack barked out a laugh. “Kinda mouthy, aren’t you? It’s okay,” he reassured Skye. “I like people with a little spark in ‘em. Too many people walk around here like they’re already dead, and I’m not talking about the Infected and Sick.”

Questions sat on the tip of Skye’s tongue. If Jack insisted on a conversation, she would at least get some answers.

“Are there a lot of Infected and Sick now the virus has made its way through the population?”

“Roaming around? Some, but it seems better.”

“So, you don’t see many new ones? They said some Infected would take months to show symptoms.”

“I don’t know. Maybe some Infected have taken to hiding before they totally lose their senses. We used to see their nasty, rotting corpses all over the place. Now, most of those are bones.”

Jack turned to the driver and said, “You agree, Mark?”

“Yep, I’d agree with that,” Mark said and nodded.

Jack resumed his conversation with Skye. “Of course, they still have quite a population in the Containment Centers.”

Containment Centers. Skye shivered. Early news reports had shown footage of these places. Not a good place then—she couldn’t imagine them now.

Her cousin Tom knew more about them than she did. From time to time—having no other recourse—he would take an Infected or Sick to the remnant of Army personnel who operated the Centers.

Once, when she’d asked him about the place, he’d only shaken his head, refusing to answer. She had never asked again.

“Have you seen one?” Jack asked her.

“No.”

“Well, you’re going to see one today.”

Kelsey’s trembling began again. The girl had a morbid fear of the Centers. While living in the city of Fenton, she’d often hid from the military who swept the area looking for the Sick.

More than once, Kelsey had seen healthy people pushed into overcrowded trucks, then savagely attacked by the grotesque mob on it.

The sights and sounds continued to haunt her dreams.

“We would rather not see the place,” Skye replied to Jack.

“Me either. It gives me the creeps—to say the least. But it’s unavoidable. We’re meeting some people there—the ones we’re handing you over to.”

Skye’s stomach lurched. She had assumed Jack was taking her and Kelsey directly to these White Coats.

“What people?” she barked.

“I wish I could tell you I knew them well, but they aren’t all that neighborly. It’s pretty much a business arrangement. I hand over the merchandise, and they give me my payment.”

“Not merchandise. People. You hand over people.”

“I prefer to think of it as merchandise. Makes the transfer easier for me that way.”

“Not it. Me. Kelsey and Skye. It is two women you are handing over to unknown people. Do you even know what they will do with us?”

“I don’t ask. But when they recruited me, they said it was for a cure. Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Jack said, a sick look coming over his face before turning toward the front of the car.

Skye clasped her shaking hands. “Tell me what you know about these go-between people.”

“I said you’d be fine.”

“Is that what you would tell your wife? Your daughters?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t think of that.”

“It seems, Jack, that there is a lot you can’t think about. Maybe that is something you should consider.”

When Jack didn’t answer, Skye continued, “You can either be the problem or the solution. We have a society to rebuild, a new way of living. Things can go well, or they can go the way you’d like it to go. People can help one another, or they can hurt each other.”

Skye gripped the edge of her seat. Was she making any impression at all?

“Take us back,” she begged. “Be the kind of person who helps others.”

Mark shot a look at Jack.

Jack narrowed his eyes. “Shut up.”

But Skye would not give up. She seemed to have struck a nerve.

“Do you have a little girl, Jack? What would you do if someone were carrying her away to unknown places for unknown reasons? Kelsey is trembling so hard her teeth chatter. Do you hear them, Jack? Do you hear her trembling?”

“Shut up! I said, shut up!” Jack’s face reddened, and his hands clenched.

Skye scooted forward on her seat and pressed him harder. This may be the only chance she’d get.

“She needs your help, Jack. Yours and Mark’s. Please help her.”

Jack’s fist flew.

Pain exploded across Skye’s jaw and cheekbone. Blood ran from her bottom lip. She fell back into her seat, head down and gasping.

Kelsey screamed.

“I said, shut up! Only I talk now!” Jack twisted in his seat to face Skye. “Do you understand?”

Shaking, Skye held her tied hands to her face. There was no doubt that she’d pushed him, but his mood change had been sudden.

She worked her jaw, hoping there was no permanent damage.

Mark slowed the vehicle and asked, “Should I stop the car, Boss?”

“I don’t know. Let’s ask her.”

Jack reached back, wrapped his hand around Skye’s neck, and yanked her against the back of his seat. “Do I need to have him stop the car?”

Her eyes darted from one man to the other. Whatever stopping the car meant to them—it couldn’t be good.

Jack’s fingers sunk deeper into the tendons of her neck as he shook her.

He smacked the side of her face again. “Do I need to have him stop the car?”

“No! No,” Skye blubbered.

“Those are the last words you will utter in my presence. Our pleasant conversation is over. Do you understand?”

Skye nodded, watching his every move.

Jack’s beady eyes stared at her as he wrapped his hand in her hair until she winced. Tears stung her eyes.

“You cause any more trouble,” he said, “and I will beat you senseless.”

Jack pushed her back into her seat.

Skye slumped, her face on fire. She raised a hand to her lower cheek, where his massive gold ring had caught her. A lump was already forming.

She swallowed hard.

Her neck throbbed, and blood dripped from her lips.

The next time Jack moved, Skye flinched. But he only opened the glove box and pulled out a towel, throwing it over the back seat at her.

Old blood stained it. Were the blotches from other “volunteers” he’d gotten rough with?

After cleaning up as best she could, Skye pulled a sobbing Kelsey into her arms again.

She started to whisper that everything would be okay, that somehow they’d get out of this, but was afraid it would send Jack’s fist toward her again if he overheard.

And if Skye were honest with herself, she sincerely doubted anything would be okay again.

Not as long as Jack’s web entangled them.

Two

Lost

The ice that had started in the pit of Skye’s stomach expanded, filling her entire body. She straightened and curled her almost-numb fingers.

Fear locked her in its hard grip. Skye understood the emotion behind it, but that didn’t make it any better.

Besides her worry over their uncertain future, the threat of a further beating hung over her head.

Skye thought of and rejected numerous escape attempts as Mark drove through country lanes and black-topped roads.

Reaching the bottom of her brief list of ideas, she would have given up all hope—except for the fact that Mark turned onto an interstate—one she recognized.

She knew where they were!

Yes, they were driving South—away from the mountain.

They were still locked in this car. But it was something—a very big something.

This road had a direct exit to Colton. She knew the way home.

The way home to Dylan.

Skye squeezed Kelsey, and the girl looked up at her and returned Skye’s smile with a small, watery one of her own.

Skye wished she could tell Kelsey, but one wrong whisper could set Jack off again. She glanced at his rigid posture. He was still agitated.

Jack wasn’t as comfortable with his post-Agflu job as he would like others to think.

Skye smoothed Kelsey’s hair, hoping that would suffice for now.

Skye had been on this highway before. The last time, streams of cars zipped up and down it, taking passengers to their daily destinations—work, home, shopping.

It was different now.

A strange mix of scenes went by. For long stretches, the road would be free of debris or vehicles, allowing them to travel without hindrance.

However, in other areas, Mark needed to wind the car through littered roads with care.

Once, clothing and other small items covered the street, looking as if an over-packed suitcase had exploded. Toys rolled across the pavement, and nightwear fluttered in the wind.

Had a family run from the Sick and Infected? And in their search for safety left these sad little bits of their lives behind?

She winced as Mark crunched over a toy robot lying sideways on the road.

But the hardest to view was the massive group of abandoned cars.

Skye had once been to a ghost town out west. This had the same feel.

She studied the cars as Mark struggled through a narrow path someone made through the clogged area.

Most of the vehicle doors remained open. As if everyone had walked away from their vehicles.

But where did they go? This was the middle of nowhere.

Skye’s gaze lingered on the things left behind. A water bottle on the seat of one car. An open children’s book on the floor of a truck, its pages fluttering in the slight wind.

Hunched rotting bodies sat in a few vehicles.

Exposure to the elements had given their skin a leathery quality. Mouths hung open as if they screamed in terror as their lives ended.

Perhaps they had.

Skye averted her eyes, staring at her feet.

So much death. So much horror.

She glanced at Kelsey. The girl stared at the back of Jack’s head. She seemed less afraid of these husks than she was of the men in the front seat.

That was as it should be.

The living could hurt others in ways the dead never would.

When the car screeched to a halt, Skye sailed forward until her seatbelt caught her shoulder and yanked her back.

Out of the front windshield, a large horde of Sick milled on the road in front of them. There may be fewer of them, but there were still enough to cause trouble.

Most in the horde looked as if they had been in the elements for weeks, if not longer. Their ragged clothes covered little more than skin and bones. Many, in the end stages of the disease, seemed ready to fall over any minute.

Mark cursed and looked at Jack. “So, now what?”

“You’re going to have to go through them,” Jack replied with a wave of his hand.

Mark scoffed. “What? There’s at least forty of them. If we get stuck in the middle, we don’t have many options.”

“Much as I’d hate to do it, we’ll throw the women out to distract them and make a break for it, if necessary.”

Skye sat back in her seat, trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible as she bit her lips closed.

The man became more evil with every passing minute.

Mark’s eyes widened as he stared at Jack as if trying to gauge his seriousness. When Jack just glared back, Mark let up on the break. “All right, then.”

Skye swallowed and grabbed Kelsey’s shaking hand as Mark nosed the car into the crowd of Sick.

The sound of the engine disturbed the horde, and they began groaning and growling.

Mark alternated between the brake and the gas as he tried to push through them. The front of the car gently bumped against a few of the Sick.

This horde had fallen into their walking pattern long ago and was reluctant to change it.

Skye had often wondered about this aspect of the disease. Was the walking pattern because this was the last actual decision they made? Or was fear something still living in them, and it somehow convinced their beleaguered minds that this route was safe?

Mark continued to push through the horde.

Gas, brake, gas, brake

Skye’s head bobbed forward each time.

Most of the Sick lumbered to the vehicle’s side except for two men and a small bunch further ahead. The men let the car push at them until it seemed as if they leaned on it.

The two Sick men turned their dull eyes to the windshield. Sweat dripped from their brow even on this chilly day. Their mouths worked, encouraging the ribbons of bloody saliva dripping from their mouths to thicken as it ran onto their chests.

Mark tapped the gas again but made no headway. The tallest of the two Sick pushed back with his hip and growled.

“Just run him over!” Jack said.

“Splendid idea,” Mark replied with a sarcastic tone. “And what about the ones ahead of him, and the ones after them? We can’t run over all of them. That’s not how a car works.”

“Well, you gotta do something. We can’t sit here all day. We have a schedule to maintain.” Jack crossed his arms and stared out the window with a worried expression.

“I know. Just give him a minute—maybe he’ll move.”

Skye stared at the Sick and bit the inside of her cheek as she willed them to move along.

How long did they have before Jack threw her and Kelsey out of the car as he’d threatened?

Three

Horde

The tall Sick man gave the car a final shove and lurched away, following a tattered woman who passed by.

After a moment, the second man trailed after them.

Skye let out a sigh of relief, only to suck her breath back in as Mark moved the car toward what had seemed like a small horde.

As the car drove deeper into the middle of the group, it was clear there were more here than Mark thought.

Skye’s stomach tightened as she scanned the car’s side windows. Every one framed with pale, sickly faces and slack blue lips with foamy drool.

She put a hand to her nose. The smell of their dirty bodies seeped into the car.

Stirred by the intrusion, the Sick banged against the car, using discolored fingers to swipe at the window as they tried to reach the passengers inside. Dirt, blood, and who knew what else now smeared the glass.

The tattered, broken people groaned as they shuffled along. The sound swirled around the car, echoing against the metal so loudly Skye wouldn’t have been surprised to find one sitting beside her.

She scooted toward the middle of the seat when one bright-eyed woman bent to peer through the window, working her tongue against her mouth.

The woman wasn’t as far gone as some others, but she still looked wild. A long, tangled mess of curls sprang from her scalp and fell well past her shoulders. Sticks, and small debris lodged in her once blond strands.

Dirt emphasized every line on her face and neck. Scratches and bruising covered her skin.

The woman widened her eyes as she pressed her nose against the glass.

A chill ran up Skye’s spine at the bizarre scene. She drew further back against the sleeping Kelsey, waking her.

The startled girl’s eyes opened wide at the sight of the nightmarish woman at the car window.

Kelsey screamed.

The shrill cry swirled through the car, piercing Skye’s ears.

Everyone, inside the car and out, stilled.

Kelsey locked eyes with the woman and pulled in another huge breath.

Jack whirled around to face the back seat. “Shut her up!”

Skye put her hand to Kelsey’s mouth and tried to rouse her from the waking terror.

“It’s okay, Kelsey. It’s okay. We’ll make our way through them, but we have to be quiet. We have to be quiet now.”

Despite Skye’s attempt to comfort her, Kelsey hauled in another breath.

Jack pushed Skye away and slapped Kelsey. The sharp sound resounded through the car.

Kelsey fell back in her seat—her eyes squeezed shut and a hand over her reddening cheek.

The car was instantly quiet.

Skye narrowed her eyes at Jack and hissed, “Don’t touch her!”

“She screams again, and I’ll push her out that door. Doesn’t matter how valuable she is—nothing is worth dying here with these things.”

Kelsey bit her lip and scowled at Jack.

Outside the car, the grumbling and groaning became louder, and the Sick resumed banging on the vehicle as they wished the car and its disruptions gone.

Mark pushed on the gas, but his start stop method was less effective now. The mob crowded against the vehicle.

Skye scanned the way ahead, searching for a way through the horde. Her nerves stretched to their limits.

Something tapped Skye’s foot.

She ignored it at first, but it bumped her each time Mark slapped on the gas.

Skye looked down at the car’s carpeted floor to find a small cylinder about a foot and a half long.

A fountain firework display.

Skye snatched it up and shoved it toward Jack. “Look!”

Jack grabbed it from her. “Mark! There’s one left!”

He pulled a lighter from his pocket and rolled down his window.

An arm pushed into the car and tried to get a hand on him.

Jack yelped and hurried to push it away. He handed the firework and lighter to Skye. “Here, you do it!”

Skye grabbed the items from him.

So he was only a big, strong man when he was abusing women. If only there were some way to use this on him. But getting out of this horde was the more immediate problem.

When the Sick beat on the windows, Skye said to Mark, “Blare the horn. Perhaps the distraction will startle them enough to move away from the windows for a moment, and I’ll be able to throw this further.”

Skye positioned herself in the middle of the back seat, hoping it was far enough away from any grasping hands that made it into the car.

Kelsey sat behind her, ready to push arms out of the way.

Mark laid on the horn, giving one long, loud honk.

The mob stirred and moved away from the car, giving Skye the gap she needed.

She held the end of the Roman candle out of the window, lighting it as quick as possible, then threw it up and over the crowd with all her might.

It went wide, but not as far as she hoped, falling on its side and skittering along the road.

After a moment, it began popping and snapping. Sparks spit as it bounced along the street and spun into the air.

Skye felt a stir beside the car and yanked her hands back through the window.

An arm covered in a dirty once-white long-sleeved business shirt snaked through her window, searching.

She pushed the button for the automatic window, hoping to close it on the Sick’s arm. “Come on, come on!” she murmured as the whir of the window seemed to mock her with the way it crept toward the top.

The grasping fingers brushed Skye’s hair.

She gasped and jerked back before his hand could wind itself in it.

Thankful that her hands were tied in front of her and not behind, Skye pushed at the arm.

It moved away from her and toward the driver.

“Get it out of here!” Mark yelled as he jumped forward in his seat.

Skye pushed at it again, and Kelsey gave it a few whacks.

The owner of the arm bent to stare into the car. His bloodshot eyes seemed to stare without seeing.

The Sick managed to run a hand down Skye’s arm, catching on the rope at her wrist. He pulled, jerking her hands up against the window.

Skye pulled back, and a tug of war started until she made a sharp downward move, which bent the Sick’s arm beyond its normal range of motion.

He wailed and let go.

Kelsey pushed his arm out of the vehicle, holding it as Skye raised the window and letting it go at the last moment.

Huffing, the two women flopped against the back of the seat, catching their breath.

Outside, the ear-piercing whistles of the Roman candle stirred up the horde. The firework’s light drew some Sick but repelled those deep into the disease with oversensitive sight and hearing, and many moved off the road.

As soon as Mark had a sliver of empty road, he floored the gas and took off through it.

Skye and Kelsey fumbled with their seatbelts and turned to the rear window to watch the horde disappear.

Four

The Containment Center

Skye smelled the place long before she saw it. The Containment Center sat on a hillside. Everything about it screamed that it was a quick build.

Two by fours shored up the massive fence where it sagged. Behind the enclosure sat a large white building.

A forest surrounded the area. Dozens of trees inside the pen had been sheared to stumps and served as rough chairs for the imprisoned Infected and Sick. On each stump sat some beleaguered human bent in misery.

A cheap roof covered the fenced area. Over time, the inferior materials had given way and opened large gaps now covered with large blue tarps that lazily flapped in the wind.

There was no mistaking what this was.

It’s where the Infected and Sick went to die.

Skye’s heart sank. She pitied these poor people.

Mark made a noise low in his throat. “I hate this place.”

“Yeah,” Jack said, “but it’s a necessary evil.”

“I don’t know why these guys like to meet here.”

“They drop off Sick before picking up these.” Jack jabbed a thumb to the back seat.

Mark pulled up alongside the fence and turned off the car.

Jack glanced at Skye." Now we wait."

About ten minutes later, a large box truck lumbered down the pot-holed dirt driveway. A dark sedan followed it.

Skye’s stomach clenched, and she felt sick. As bad as these guys were, the new ones could be worse. She watched the white truck pull up to their car and stop. Two men jumped out. Four exited the car behind it.

“No!” The word escaped Skye’s lips before she could stop it.

From the look of these men, they had been rough long before the outbreak started. Everything about them spoke of danger—from their tattooed skin to their short, stubbled hair and dark, ripped clothing—not to mention the weapons crisscrossing their bodies.

Skye reminded herself that her own fiancé caused fear in others, but it didn’t calm her.

She knew Dylan’s heart. These men were strangers.

One of the men came to Mark’s window and tapped it with his gun.

“Welp, here we go,” Jack said, reaching for his door handle.

Skye had to try one last time. “Please, Jack, please don’t hand us over to them—at least not Kelsey. I’m begging you!”

“Don’t make me hit you again when we were getting along so well.” He stared at Skye. “And I wouldn’t try any of this on them if I were you. I don’t think it would go over well.” He eyed the men before glancing back at her.

Jack and Mark got out of the car and pulled a resistant Skye and Kelsey out of the backseat.

The new group looked them over. One tall man stepped forward, a hard look in his dark eyes. “This all you got?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “It’s been a slow month.”

“I’d say. Better pick up the pace. Unless you think this area is picked over already.”

Jack scraped the ground with his foot and grunted.

The man strode over to Skye and grabbed her chin to inspect her bruised cheek.

She pushed his hand away.

He slapped her arms down and grabbed her face tighter.

“How have they been?” he asked as he eyed her.

“Not too bad. Had a bit of trouble with that one.” Jack pointed at first Skye, then Kelsey.

“But this one’s been quiet. But you know how it is. Once I got tough with the troublemaker, she settled down all right.”

The man’s gaze scraped over Skye. “You give him trouble?”

Skye trembled. “Sir. We have been kidnapped—taken away from our family.”

“Shut up.” The man’s eyes narrowed. “Of course, you gave him trouble.”

Skye looked at the ground.

“Do you know what happens if you cause me trouble?”

Skye shook her head.

“Let me show you.”

Skye yelped when the tall man grabbed her arm and dragged her along to the fence. He jabbed a finger at the Sick inside it.

“See them?”

Skye glanced and nodded.

“I come round here every week. I’ll bring you back and shove you in. I know what you’re thinking. You don’t get sick. But have you ever seen them go after a person when they’re all—Well, let’s just see, why don’t we?”

His hand became iron as it tightened on Skye’s arm, forcing her closer and closer to the wire.

The man shoved her cheek against the fence with a hand that boasted a tattoo of a screaming woman.

Skye fought back, frantically pushing at him and the fence. Anything to get her away from it.

The tall man snapped at her. “Stop, or I’ll put you in there right now.”

Skye stared up at his face. His eyes were bright with excitement.

She stopped fighting. He was in control now, and there was nothing she could do about it.

A few of the Sick moved nearer to them, showing aggression.

She shuddered.

“Here we go.” The man shoved her cheek harder against the wire fence.

Skye groaned, and without thinking, put her hands to his. He gave her a hard look, and she put them down.

It took everything she had not to fight him.

If she obeyed, he wouldn’t hurt her. She was valuable to him, wasn’t she?

A sick woman lumbered closer, picking at the fence as she came.

The tall man yelled, and the Sick woman snapped her teeth at him.

He continued to antagonize the ill woman until she was almost upon them.

Skye’s heart thundered as her hand curled tight around the fence’s cool metal. “I won’t cause trouble.”

“I know you won’t. I’m gonna let this woman take a chunk of out of your cheek so you have a daily reminder.” His eyes glinted as he spoke. “Have you ever seen them rip a piece of someone away?”

Skye’s knees weakened. “Sir, I will not cause trouble. You don’t have to do this.”

The tall man banged on the fence beside Skye’s head. It drew the sick woman.

“Don’t tell me what I need to do,” he growled at Skye.

The woman came closer. Her deep congested rattle became louder with each step. She snapped her teeth as she worked her jaw.

Sweat ran down Skye’s back. Her voice broke as she begged. “Please, Sir!”

He brought his face closer to hers and laughed. “I like to watch it happen.”

Again, he slapped the fence.

The metal bounced back and hit Skye’s already battered face.

The sick woman wrapped her fingers around the fence, grabbing a chunk of Skye’s hair as she did so.

She jerked her mouth toward Skye.

Skye groaned, eyes darting between the tall man and the sick woman.

If she didn’t move, she would lose part of her face. If she did move, the tall man had said he would put her in with them.

The Sick woman’s putrid breath steamed against Skye’s cheek.

She couldn’t stand here—she just couldn’t.

She tensed, ready to jerk away.

The tall man tightened his iron hold.

Skye’s arm numbed.

He brought his face to hers and growled, “I will feed you to that thing.”

Five

The Standoff

Panicked, Skye scanned the watching men.

Most of them were as eager for action and blood as a hockey game fanatic. A few looked away but offered no help.

Kelsey was bowed low on the ground, her body heaving with sobs. The poor girl had gone through so much. She had finally broken.

Skye ached for her, wishing she was free to comfort her.

Kelsey lifted her head and locked eyes with Skye. She nodded from Skye to the ground.

Smart girl. Smart, smart girl. Give the man what he wants.

Skye let tears fall over her cheeks. “Please, please, don’t do this.” She jerked against the fence when the Sick woman snapped her teeth. “Please!”

She allowed her wobbly knees to weaken further until the man’s hands on her arm and head were almost her only support.

The sick woman snapped again.

Skye squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe it was too late.

“No. No, no, no,” she muttered to herself.

The woman’s stink washed over her.

Skye shuddered.

A good portion of her cheek sunk through the metal chain of the fence—the woman would take it all.

The Sick’s teeth scraped against the exposed skin. Skye instinctively jerked and screamed.

Kelsey’s shriek echoed hers.

The tall man laughed as Skye’s eyes grew wide with fear, and her frantic hands clenched at his shirt.

His eyes danced in amusement. “Will you be good?”

His game burned Skye, but not so much that she wouldn’t play it.

“I will, sir,” she rushed to answer him. “I will be good. I will be very, very good.”

She sobbed.

As much as Skye would’ve liked to convince herself that this was all for show, it wasn’t true. It had been a relief to show her fear—especially if it meant the end of this torture.

The tall man let her go.

Without his support, Skye dropped to the ground. She stayed there and put a hand to her cheek, letting the tears stream down her face.

He towered over her and folded his arms. “Now we have that all straight.”

Skye nodded.

He pulled her from the ground. Skye’s weak legs worked against her, and she stumbled.

The tall man hauled her up by her bruised arms. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “That was scary.”

Skye walked on legs that felt like noodles as she stared North.

If only she could break free and run up that highway to Colton—all the way to Cole’s Mountain and into the safety of Dylan’s arms.

Home.

A pang of misery stabbed through her chest. She shook her head. Thoughts like that wouldn’t change a thing.

Keep your eye on the game—that’s what Dylan would say.

She searched for Kelsey and found a large, barrel-chested man holding the girl face-forward, his arm around her waist as her feet dangled just above the ground. His other beefy hand was over her mouth.

Skye bit back the scolding she would like to give him.

The big man was gentle as he lowered Kelsey back to the ground and guided her to the back of the box truck alongside Skye and her captor.

At the back of the vehicle, Skye stared at its interior. Stains smeared the walls and floor, and it reeked of dirty bodies and urine. This vehicle had been used to haul the Sick.

Skye glanced at the tall man.

He eyed her for any sign of resistance.

Skye strengthened her resolve, then stepped onto the truck’s flat bumper.

The tall man pushed Skye face-down into whatever vile goo ran through the floor’s ribbing.

Skye lay there, frozen. The foul smell filled her nostrils.

She jumped up, hoping the mess hadn’t soaked her clothes. Without a glance at the tall man, Skye reached back and helped Kelsey into the truck.

The two women clung to each other as the rolling door slammed down and the tall man laughed.

Skye had expected total darkness, but light came from the front of the truck. Turning, she spotted a decent-sized pass-thru window between the cab and the back of the vehicle. It reminded her of the one in Dylan’s pickup truck.

The women used the faint light to find the cleanest part of the floor to hunker down on.

Kelsey put a hand to Skye’s bruised face. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, terrified but not hurt.”

“Your face is purple already.”

Skye pushed at her cheek and winced. “It could have been worse—much, much worse. You were smarter than I was.”

“I’ve been in that situation before. Men like that—they always want to be the most important person in the room. It’s easier and safer to just let them think they are—until you don’t have to anymore.”

The pass-thru window opened. The barrel-chested man threw two bottles of water and two protein bars through and slammed it shut.

At the sight of the food, Skye and Kelsey’s stomachs growled. It had been hours since they had ate. They rushed to grab them.

The barrel-chested man settled himself in the passenger’s seat, as another man hopped into the driver’s seat and started the truck.

The tall man wasn’t in this vehicle. Skye assumed he was in one of the cars that zipped past them onto the road.

It would be a relief not to have those evil eyes on her for the entire ride.

Skye examined the box truck, but they had locked it tight with no way of escape.

And after what the tattooed man had done, she knew that there would be no botched attempts for freedom. She and Kelsey needed to be sure that any plan they came up with would work. It meant their lives.

The barrel-chested man looked back through the window, his eyes softening as he looked at Kelsey. Sadness pulled at his face as he opened the pass-thru and said, “I’m sorry. I don’t want to do this, but if they don’t find a cure, my own daughter could die.”

He gave them one last look of pity and guilt as the truck lumbered onto the road, then turned away.

Skye and Kelsey slid down the truck walls to sit on the hard metal floor.

Pity and sadness would only go so far to help them.

What they needed was outrage.

Six

Outrage

Wade, Jesse, and Joe piled into one of the community’s shared pickup trucks, a granite-colored Ram 1500.

Joe stuck his arm out the open window and banged on the side of the truck. “Only thing tougher’n this would be a tank.”

Wade threw him a savage grin and spun out of the driveway. “Yeah, well, that might be an idea.”

“Okay then, we see one—we take it.”

Jesse shot a glance from Joe to Wade. He’d learned to read people early in his life, and it had saved his hide on more than once. There was a dangerous glint in Joe’s eye—the same one he’d seen on occasion in Wade’s and Dylan’s.

The thing was, Dylan kept his own untamed side in check, as well as Wade’s. Who was keeping who in check now?

Jesse picked at the seam on his jeans.

Maybe he didn’t care. All he wanted was Skye and Kelsey back. Maybe whoever took them would get what they deserved.

As if Joe could read Jesse’s thoughts, he said, “So what are we gonna do to the boys that took our women? Teach ‘em a lesson?”

Wade glanced at Joe and said, “Not now.”

Joe scoffed. “Boy has gotta learn sometime—if he hasn’t already. Ya think Dylan would just grab his girl up and waltz out of there with a thank you? Nah, that famous temper of his would do some damage.”

Wade nodded. “I know that too. But he said to keep the boy safe, and that’s what we’re doin’. Get the women. Keep the boy safe. Then we’ll see.”

The men exchanged a knowing glance.

Joe smiled and rapidly banged on the pickup’s door again. He let out a long howl and a yip as he raised his hand to brush against the tree leaves lining the long drive.

“Quit piddlin’ around here then, Wade, and step on it.”

Wade stomped the gas, and gravel flew, pinging off the vehicle behind them.

Once the five-vehicle caravan made it to the site of the kidnapping, Jesse jumped from the truck.

“Here! This is it!” he said, pointing to the blood on the paved road.

He shuddered as he recalled the beating they had given Spencer and Reed.

The boy ran up the hill to the intersection Jack and his thugs had taken and studied the pavement.

He didn’t have to look too hard.

A large, blue arrow was spray-painted on the road. The sign Spencer and Reed had promised to leave.

Jesse waved at the rest of the group still milling around on the road below. “They left sign up here. Plain as day.”

Wade waved back.

Once everyone loaded back into the vehicles, Wade picked up Jesse at the top of the hill. “Good job, Jess! Now let’s go get ‘em.”

They followed one blue arrow after another. Two times they worried they had passed a vital clue, only to find a new sign to ease their concern.

At last, they came across Spencer’s gold car sitting on the side of the road.

Wade frowned as he studied the area.

Jesse, Joe, and Wade stepped from the car and rushed over to Reed and Spencer. The white bandage wound around Spencer’s head was seeping blood.

“You all aright?” Jesse asked.

“Got a pretty nasty headache, but okay other than that.”

“Doc should take a look at that.”

Spencer nodded. “Soon as I get back to the mountain.”

Joe looked around. “What is that god-awful smell?”

“I thought we were gettin’ close to this place,” Wade said as he grimaced. “It’s the Containment Center for the Sick. But I can’t reckon on why they would be bringin’ the women here.”

Reed shook his head. “Me either, but we figured we’d hang back and talk to the authorities once Jack and his guys left. It’ll be clear Skye and Kelsey don’t have the AgFlu, so the people in charge should let them go without a problem.”

“Who is in charge?” Joe asked.

“Military, or what’s left of it,” Wade said. “Official or not, I don’t know. If Tom were here, he might.”

Spencer threw Wade a puzzled glance. “Tom didn’t come?”

“It was his turn to stay in Colton. He didn’t make it back before we skedaddled outta there.”

Spencer glanced from Wade to Joe. “That’s too bad, coulda used him to talk to the men in charge here. You know—sheriff to military.”

Wade shrugged. “I been here before with him—maybe that’ll be good enough.”

“Hope so.”

“Car.” Wade perked up and pointed. “That theirs?”

Reed squinted toward the moving vehicle. “Yep.”

“You two stay here. Let me’n Joe handle this.”

Reed disagreed. “They need to see we have a force here.”

“Fine but keep everyone back.”

Jesse took his place beside Wade and Joe as he wrapped his hand around the hilt of his blade.

Reed waved the others from their vehicles to stand behind them.

As if Wade had just noticed him, he said, “Sorry, Jess. You get in the back.”

“No.”

“Yep. Don’t give me no guff now. Dylan wants you safe.”

“I ain’t goin’ in back.”

“I’ll tie you up if I gotta. I brought rope.”

The fire that had started in Jesse’s belly at the beginning of this thing rose higher. He shot Wade a mutinous glance.

Someone laid their hand on Jesse’s arm. He tried to shake it off until he saw it was the injured Spencer.

“Could you help me out, Jesse? I can’t take another bash on the head. If things get rough, I’ll need someone I trust to have my back.”

One side of Jesse’s mouth turned down. He wasn’t stupid. He was aware of what was going on. But it would be worse if Wade threw him over his shoulder and hogtied him. At least helping Spencer gave him some dignity.

Still, his frustration grew as he stared at the oncoming car before following Spencer.

As they moved to the back of the group, several patted Jesse, offering praise.

“You did great, Jesse.”

“You got us here.”

“Woulda never found her if it weren’t for you, boy.”

One older man named Bert said, “You got some good makings. Give yourself some time to learn the rest. Ya did your job. Let us do ours.”

Each word of praise helped cool the fire raging through Jesse’s body.

Even if he did feel useless here at the back of the group, it was nice to be recognized for getting them this far.

Besides, there would be plenty of time to make Jack and his goons pay once Kelsey and Skye were safe.

Seven

Answers

Wade narrowed his eyes at the slow-moving white car driving down the back road. The light-color flickered through the trees as it came their way. He rubbed his wrist across his nose. The smell from the containment center was putrid. Filth, muck, death, and if one paid attention, the sweaty scent of fear.

Rage built in him. If they left Skye and Kelsey in there to rot in that mess—Wade’s anger just about choked him.

Jack had told Jesse they were working on a cure with the White Coats. Wade didn’t remember seeing any of doctor-types here. What was the man up to?

Wade’s hand tightened around the rifle in his hand. He grunted his understanding when Reed whispered two cars had gone in.

There was only one now.

Wade’s pickup blocked the road out. They could be patient and wait for Jack.

The car rounded a curve and slowed. They were close enough to see Wade and his group now fanned along the side of the road.

Wade saw the passenger’s puzzled expression as he said something to the driver.

“Joe!” Wade said as he sprinted for the car before the driver put it in reverse.

Fury fueled Wade, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered if this was how Dylan felt during one of his rages. It was freeing but also frightening—even to himself.

Wade and Joe reached Jack’s car and yanked the door handles. They were locked.

Joe raised his gun and used the butt end to break the window.

The driver cringed against the back of the seat.

When Joe punched the button to unlock the doors, Wade rounded the front of the car and threw the passenger’s door open. He dragged the man he assumed was Jack out of the vehicle.

One glance at Jesse told him he had the right man.

“Where is she?” Wade roared at Jack.

Jack shook his head and put his hands up.

Wade shouted again.

When the man still didn’t answer, Wade’s fist flew.

Jack dropped to the ground.

Wade bent over him as he lay in the dirt. His voice was quieter, but every bit as hard. “Where is she?”

“Who?” Jack asked, his eyes wide. “Who are you talking about?”

Wade gathered Jack’s shirt in his hand and pulled him toward his group.

The man fought for release.

Wade bashed him until he stopped.

He turned Jack toward Jesse. “Recognize the boy?”

Jesse stepped forward.

Jack’s face fell. He dropped to his knees.

The boy’s face turned red. He was fuming.

Jesse’s jaw hardened. He kicked Jack in the gut and spit on him. “You took my mom. You took Kelsey.”

When Wade hauled Jack to the front of the crowd, Jesse put a hand up.

He drew back his foot back again and again.

Jack gasped with each blow.

Spencer laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Jesse,” he said in a mild tone.

Joe, still holding the driver at gunpoint, turned to stare at Spencer. “Leave the boy be. He’s got a right.”

Spencer ignored Joe and instead asked Jesse, “Is this what Dylan would want?”

Jesse spit on Jack one last time and rubbed his shirtsleeve across his mouth before walking back to the group.

Wade now stood over Jack, pushing his rifle into the man’s neck. “You answer me now, or I’m gonna let the boy back at ya. Then I’ll take my turn.”

Jack glared at Wade, and the mountain man pushed his gun a little deeper into his skin. “I already gave them away.” Jack dropped his gaze to the ground.

The anger that burned Wade’s chest spread to his entire body. It was all he could do to keep his finger from tightening on the trigger.

He stared at Jack. “What does that mean? To who?” He pointed to the Containment Center. “Them?”

“No, not them. We only meet here.”

“You better say more, or I’m gonna start blowin’ parts off ya.”

Wade moved his rifle to the man’s knee.

Jack’s eyes widened. “We have an arrangement with these scientist-types. I’ve only seen them once, and I’m not sure where they come from. They have some go-betweens come to pick up the merchan—people.”

Jack looked from Wade to the group. “But we already made the trade, and they’re gone.”

Wade stilled for a moment, then said to Joe. “Ask him.”

Joe hauled the driver, Mark, up and bent him back over the car. He flipped the safety off the gun and put it to Mark’s head.

Mark was quick to agree with Jack. “Jack’s right. They’re gone. They never stay long.”

Joe gave him a cold look. “Where are they from?”

“We don’t know. We really don’t.”

Joe looked to the sky and sighed. “I need to let you know somethin’ about me. I don’t like to get my hands all roughed up like Wade over there. They hurt for days when I go bashin’ someone. I’m not gonna hit ya, I’ll just shoot ya. It’s a lot easier on me.”

Mark’s voice rose as he rushed to give Joe an answer that would appease him. “We already told you. We told you everything.”

Joe shook his head. “Nah, you haven’t. There’s always somethin’ else.”

Mark moved his head side to side as Joe pulled him higher on the car. “There’s nothing—there isn’t. I --“

Joe shoved his gun into the meat of Mark’s thigh and pulled the trigger.

Mark screamed.

Joe shook him. “Stop that yellin’. You ain’t even feeling it yet. It’s just a flesh wound—ain’t like you’re dying. I should know, I’ve had enough.”

Joe lifted his shirt to prove it, then dropped it and leaned toward Mark with his eyes narrowed. “That was a warning shot. You’ll get more if you or your buddy don’t start talking.”

The driver’s face paled, and he started to talk. “There’s three to five of the go-betweens at any given time. They look kinda rough. They go south on the Interstate. That’s all I know, I swear.” He looked at his partner. “Tell them, Jack!”

Joe moved the gun to Mark’s other thigh. “Names?”

“We don’t ask names, and they don’t trust us with any information!”

Joe leaned closer to Mark, almost nose-to-nose. “Did you hurt either of those women?”

“No! No, I didn’t, but he did. Jack hit the one that told us her name was Skye. Hit her till she bled.”

Joe dropped Mark, letting him fall to the ground where he stayed holding his leg and groaning.

Joe’s jaw hardened, and he stiffened, his chin high.

He strode over to Jack and crouched, putting his gun to the man’s head. He glanced up at Wade. “Get the info you want, then we’ll put a bullet in his head.”

“You picked the wrong women,” Joe told Jack. “Skye is my friend—and his brother’s—girl. We ain’t people to mess with. You’ll pay for what you did.”

Wade tightened his hand on Jack. “You beat her? Put your hands on her? I could kill you for just that. So if you’ve got anything else to add, now’s the time.”

Jack shook his head. “Why should I? One of you is gonna kill me, anyway.”

“Tell us,” Wade said, even though it made him sick to deal with the man, “and I’ll make sure you get a fightin’ chance.”

Jack looked from Wade to Joe. When Joe agreed, he said, “They take them way South into the Carolina’s. I heard them talking one time. South Carolina along the coast.”

“To these White Coats?” Wade asked.

“Like I said, I only met them once when we set up terms. But most had on lab coats. You know, like a doctor wears. The leader wore a suit—a real suit—can you believe that? And he was real clean—right down to the smoothed hair and perfect nails. People like that stand out nowadays. Don’t see a lot of them anymore.”

“That it?” Wade asked.

“That’s all we have, and that’s the honest truth.”

Wade nodded and told Reed to get the rope out of his car.

Jack protested. “You said you’d let us go!”

“Nah, I said I’d give you a fightin’ chance—meaning I won’t shoot you in the head like Joe here wants me to—like I’m aching to do. Instead, I’m gonna tie you to those trees over there.”

Jack’s voice shook. “How am I supposed to untie myself?”

“That’s your problem.” Wade hauled Jack up and pushed him to the nearest tree while Joe dragged Mark over.

They shoved the men’s backs to the trees and pulled their hands behind them, tying them tight.

“I’m wounded. I’ll bleed to death!” Mark cried.

“What a baby! I ain’t cried like this since I crawled.” Joe rolled his eyes. “It’s only a bit of fat I shot off you. Shut up, or I’ll give ya another one.”

Jack tried to make a case for himself as Wade tied him to the tree. “This is as bad as killing us. You’re just leaving us here to die. Think about it.”

Wade turned his furious gaze on Jack. “I have thought about it. I’ve thought about how much you deserve to die, and still, I’m leavin’ you here with only a few bruises. You steal people away from their families after we’ve already gone through all this.” Wade waved his arm at the Containment Center.

“You hurt Skye, you scum. You could be sending them to some kind of nightmare. There ain’t no law to take care of you, so we have to do it, or you’ll be out there doin’ this again to some other family.”

Wade pointed a stiff finger at his own chest. “We are your judge, jury, and executioner. You better be happy I’ve got an audience, or this woulda went down a lot harder.”

Wade turned and walked away.

Jack yelled after him. “Where’s my fighting chance?”

Pointing to the road, Wade said, “Maybe one of the trucks passing by will see ya.”

“This far back?”

With a shrug, Wade said, “There’s a chance.”

“That’s it?” Jack sounded desperate.

Wade pulled his extra knife from his boot, looked at it, then threw it out of the reach of either kidnapper.

He turned and walked away.

Jack stared at the hilt sticking out of the grass and broke down. “I was only trying to take care of my family!”

Wade kept walking. “Ain’t we all.”

Eight

A Bullet in the Brain

As the group walked away from a stone-faced Jack and bawling Mark, Wade stared at Spencer as the man threw an arm around Jesse. It was clear Spencer hadn’t liked the day’s events, but he was the only one who had objected.

Joe glanced from Wade to Spencer. “I’ll take care of this,” he murmured to his friend.

Joe jogged the few steps to Spencer, separating Jesse from him as he did so.

“Hey, I apologize if I came on strong back there,” Joe told Spencer as Jesse and Wade listened in. “But the boy’s got a right to beat on that man for a while if he wants. They took his mom and friend.”

Spencer grimaced at Jesse’s set face. “With his background, violence is not something we should encourage.”

“With his background?” Joe stuttered. “Ain’t any worse’n me and the Cole’s.” He shook his head. “Look, you gotta remember when it comes to parents, the four of us drew the short straw. That had no advantages the way things used to be, but it does now. You want the boy to survive?”

“Of course.”

“We can show him how to do it. Keep an eye open—seems you could learn a thing or two.”

“Yeah,” Jesse added. “I want to learn. If Wade and Dylan hadn’t taught me stuff, I probably wouldn’t have made it home with the medicine. And wouldn’t have been able to find these guys at all!”

Wade put his hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “You’ve done great, son. Why don’t you head over to the truck and fire it up for me?” He pulled his keys out of his jean pocket and handed them to the boy.

“Sure!” Jesse grabbed them and ran for the pickup.

Spencer watched him go. “Dylan is trying to show him a better way.”

“He is. Hopes to anyway. But with men like that,” Joe pointed behind them, “there ain’t but one. Dylan would be the first to agree with that.”

Spencer shook his head. “I don’t think so. We could have taken them to the authorities.”

“Ain’t much authority around,” Wade said. “I coulda killed ‘em. It’s what I would’ve done if you all weren’t here.”

“They’re as good as dead. No one is going to see them back there in those trees.” Spencer pursed his lips.

“Good. A bullet in the brain is what I should’ve done. But if they suffer a little, like others have suffered under their hands, that’s okay with me too.”

Wade stopped and put a hand on Spencer’s arm, stopping him. He was sick of this conversation—there were more important things to do.

“First off, the boy’s our kin now. We’ll raise him the way we see fit—which means how to survive in this world. When you got a kid, let’s see how you raise him. But for now, don’t be trying to cause problems. Especially right in front of the boy.”

Spencer nodded and glanced at the rest of the group, who listened in. “You’re right. Not the right time or place.”

“Second,” Wade continued. “You gotta better way to deal with those two back there, do it as long as they are punished or dead. You take whoever agrees with you. I’m here to get Skye and Kelsey, not babysit the people who took her.”

“Oh, I don’t—I—” Spencer backtracked. “It’s just you know nothing about them.”

“I know enough. Those men take people against their will to a place no one knows for what sounds like medical experiments. If they have to kidnap people, what kinda things do you think they do, uh? Think they’d be fun?”

Spencer didn’t respond, so Wade went on, “Skye and Kelsey have been healthy. What if what they do gives them the AgFlu, or does something worse?

Jack kills people—murders them—even if he doesn’t pull the trigger himself. Only one way to deal with people like that—destroy them. Destroy them before they destroy you.”

Wade scoffed and continued, “But hey, if you think he needs some coddlin’—that we treated him too rough, you get yourself a couple of friends and go sing him some lullabies. But I ain’t waitin’ for you. We’re moving on.”

Spencer looked from Jack, who now bellowed in anger and desperation, to the people from Cole’s Mountain.

For a moment no one moved, then one woman walked back to the trees where the two men were tied.

She stared at Wade’s knife stuck in the ground and pulled it out of the dirt.

“I don’t truck with evil men. None of us do.”

She walked to the vehicles, returning Wade’s knife as she passed him.

Wade gave her a quick nod. “I guess you got your answer,” he told Spencer.

Wade waved the group together. “Well, I’d hoped we’d find Skye here. So, now we need to split up. Me’n Joe will take half of you on ahead to scout the way—if we’re fortunate—maybe even rescue our girls. The other half will go on home and tell Dylan what is goin’ on. He’s gonna want to come out as soon as he can, and he’ll need people with him. How’s that sound?”

Everyone agreed, so Wade split the group. He put Spencer into the group going home. Not only was he not on board with what was going on, he needed to see the doctor for his injuries.

Wade walked where Jesse sat in the pickup, pushing a CD into the player, and explained the plan.

Jesse stared at Wade. “What about me?”

“What are you thinkin’?”

“You want me to go home.”

“I want you to help Dylan. I can’t be both places, and he’s all alone. The people he cares the most about are out here, and it’s gotta be driving him crazy. There’s only a handful of people he’ll be honest with about how he’s doin’ and you’re one of them.”

“Okay. I want to help Mom, but I want Dylan to be okay too.”

Jesse slid down from the truck seat and threw himself against Wade, mumbling into his shirt. “Take care of yourself.”

Wade thumped Jesse on the back then put his hand on either side of the boy’s head, giving him a long look. “You too.”

When Jesse turned to leave Wade stopped him. “Jess, I get where Spencer is coming from, but things aren’t that way anymore. They just aren’t.”

“I know. I get it. It just takes longer for some people.”

Wade laughed and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Okay. You go on now.”

As Wade watched Jesse go, his heart sank like a stone. It wasn’t good for the family to be broken up like this. He didn’t like this—not one bit.

He ran a hand over his face.

Joe walked up and pounded him on the back. “Everything will be okay, man.”

Wade hoped so. He really did.

But he’d be a fool if he didn’t question whether they would ever be together again.

Nine

Pure Optimism

Skye shifted yet again against the wall of the box truck, her sore body finding no comfort in the truck’s hard metal bed.

She moved closer to Kelsey, and they leaned against each other for physical—and emotional—support.

The truck bounced over another of the million potholes, jarring them against each other and the hard wall behind them, causing Kelsey to groan.

Skye patted the girl’s arm, and Kelsey laid her head on the woman’s shoulder.

They had grown close during the girl’s counseling sessions. It took a while to work through everything that happened to her in Fenton.

“We certainly are going to have some interesting sessions once we get out of this one,” Kelsey said as she hugged Skye closer.

Skye smiled. “That’s what I love about you, Kelsey, your eternal optimism. It’s a wonderful thing at a time like this.”

“I wasn’t always that way. When I was alone in Fenton, I wished death would get it over with.” Kelsey shuddered. “But then Doc and Bre found me. If I got out of that—we can get out of this. It’s just a matter of time.”

“We have to keep our eyes open for the best opportunity—one we’re sure will work.”

Kelsey agreed.

Skye looked at her with approval. Kelsey may still be a young teen, but her experiences made her far wiser than her years. She would need that wisdom to survive in this strange world.

“I knew things were bad out here, I really did,” Skye said. “I believed everything you and others have told me. But I realize now, more than ever, that Dylan and Wade sheltered me from the worst of it—from as many of these ruthless, uncaring men as possible. I didn’t see the world for what it is—the individual troubles but not what it meant as a whole.”

“Well, that’s your optimism. It’s not always a bad thing.”

“No, but it could get me killed, and now, you too.” Skye hung her head. “Dylan told me that once, and he was right. I can’t go into situations with pure optimism—as if the people will react like they used to. There’s no veil of civilization now. People can be as evil as they want to be.”

“Strangers.” Kelsey shook her head, disagreeing. “We have to be careful of strangers. Look at all the good people living on Cole’s Mountain. There are good ones—lots of them. The world went all topsy-turvy, and everyone’s all mixed up. But pretty soon people will divide—the good and the bad. It’ll be easier to tell.” She shrugged. “That’s how it was in Fenton, anyhow.”

“I believe you’re right, Kelsey. As time goes by, it will be easier to tell who people are. Until then, we need to treat new people like enemies until they prove otherwise. Some optimism is good, but it needs to be tempered with caution.” Skye stared through the window at the big man who had seemed sympathetic to their plight. “I’m not sure how that helps us now, but I am aware I need to think like you. My instinct is to fight, but that’s not possible yet. As you said, let them be top dog for now. Don’t fight until we’re sure we can do damage. We may not be able to beat these men physically, but perhaps we can out-think them.”

Kelsey giggled. “Did you get a good look at them? That shouldn’t be hard to do.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Skye laid her head back against the wall as she pondered the Containment Center. How long had it existed? Had it always been so horrible? People penned like animals, not even sheltered from the elements. Were they fed?

She shuddered. Would she and Kelsey end up in a place like that?

The disease was tragic enough, but to be treated that way—what a nightmare.

But maybe those Sick were the lucky ones. Soon, they would be out of their misery.

But what would happen to the people who survived this disease? If the evil people of this world won, what would happen to the people of Cole’s Mountain?

There were no answers to those questions.

Skye pushed her worries away as she straightened her legs, bouncing them up and down to get the blood moving in them. This drive seemed to last forever—every mile taking her further and further away from Jesse and Dylan.

Skye’s nerves were stretched so thin even time was wonky. It could have been thirty minutes or three hours that since they entered this truck. She wasn’t sure.

The sun still shone through the pass-through window to the cab, but they’d driven long enough she needed a restroom.

Skye sighed. Now that would be all she would think about.

As if someone read her mind, the truck slowed and stopped.

Skye’s heart almost came to a standstill.

Kelsey clenched her hand, and Skye murmured it would be all right, even though she had no idea if it would be.

“Don’t cause trouble,” Kelsey reminded her.

Only Skye’s anxiety stopped her from laughing.

How many times had she told Wade that? Yet, what she wouldn’t do for a little of his trouble now.

The back door of the truck rolled up, and the tall leader stood there. “You want to take care of any business?”

When the women nodded, he waved them down.

Skye and Kelsey jumped out of the truck’s back to the pavement of the road and looked around.

No vehicles moved on the desolate interstate. Long grass waved in the gentle wind as far as Skye could see. In the far distance, a few sparse tree groves stood. Three tall trees grew near the road, and an old gray-weathered house was about a half a mile away. It looked deserted.

Skye startled when the tall man grabbed her by the arm and pulled her toward him. “You gonna cause me any problems?”

Skye lowered her head and avoided eye contact. “No, sir. I will not.”

He seemed satisfied with that, pushing her on her way.

It was the truth. Where could they go with five men just waiting for them to try? Now was not the time.

A short, stubby man pushed through the grass to a tree.

“I’ll watch them,” he said as he waved his gun. “I could use a little target practice.”

He waited for the women to find their spot and turned to relieve himself against the bark of a tree.

Skye and Kelsey crouched in the tall grass, hoping the men would only see the tops of their heads.

On the way back to the truck, Skye looked for anything that would tell her where they were, but found no signs on this empty stretch of road.

But the air was warmer and more humid than when they had entered the vehicle at the Containment Center.

They were going South.

Her stomach dropped.

Just how far away from home were they?

Ten

Life Lessons

Sue Ellen sat in a straight chair at Dylan’s bedside, staring at him as he lay in bed, recuperating.

He was a tough guy—she had to give him that. The bullet and the infection might have killed a lesser man, but he hung on.

Doing better than hanging on really—he was healing.

Still, Dylan was off his game. Usually, when someone looked at him for very long, his eyes popped open like he had some kind of sixth sense.

Finally, after several minutes of Sue Ellen’s intense gaze, Dylan stirred in his sleep.

Satisfied with the sign of his returning health, Sue Ellen went back to tossing a tiny red ball from one hand to the other.

She snickered. Was that kid still bawling over losing this?

She rolled her eyes. Kids were such easy marks.

She’d been sitting on Doc’s front porch, dangling her feet, when the mom and little boy walked by.

The ball slipped from the boy’s hand and sped over the bumpy ground, stopping right in front of her.

She’d plopped the toe of her tennis shoe over it.

The little boy wailed.

The mom looked around with a frown on her face as the boy cried, “Ball,” over and over.

She’d even asked Sue Ellen if she’d seen it.

But the girl had made big eyes, shrugged, and shook her head.

Then she’d stared the kid down.

“You should’ve hung onto it,” the mom said as she dragged the little boy through the clearing.

The boy cried louder.

“I’ll find you another one!” The mother said in desperation.

Sue Ellen snorted. That might have worked before the AgFlu, but really, was the mom going to try and promise that now? It was the apocalypse, lady. Not so easy to get toys like little red balls. Even the kid realized that.

Sue Ellen tossed the ball again and giggled. Her blonde curls and big blue eyes always did the trick. And the fact that parents always blamed their own kids for stuff helped, too.

“What’s so funny?”

Sue Ellen startled and grabbed the ball from mid-air. Her gaze flew to Dylan. “Nothing. I was just thinkin’ is all.”

Dylan’s eyes narrowed, and she looked away.

Sometimes she swore he had the ability to read her mind. But it was probably just that he didn’t like her. He never had.

From the minute he’d seen her, he’d been suspicious of her. She could tell. She’d tried to get him to trust her, but it hadn’t worked yet.

Wade, though, he’d been on her side more often than not, always wanting to help her do better.

As if she wanted to—being herself is what kept her alive.

“What are you doin’ here, girl?”

“I’m just checking on you since no one else is around. I thought you’d like that.”

Dylan grunted and ran a hand over his face. “Anyone hear anything yet?”

“Geez, Dylan, they just left.”

“Watch your mouth. Don’t be sassin’ me.”

Dylan never yelled at her. He just got real still and quiet and gave her that intense stare.

It disturbed her.

She enjoyed being the only one in the room able to read people, but he did it better than her.

Sue Ellen shivered. She didn’t want anyone to guess her secrets.

Dylan pointed to the ball. “And give that back to the kid.”

Sue Ellen’s chin dropped, leaving her mouth open. “I-I found it.”

“Right. Give it back to him.”

“All right,” she mumbled as she shoved it into her pocket.

“I’ll be checkin’.”

“Whatever!” Sue Ellen stood up so fast her straight chair almost tipped over.

“Then, get your butt back here.”

Sue Ellen ground her teeth. “Why?”

“Cause I want to get outta this bed, and you’re going to help me do it.”

“I ain’t your babysitter.”

Dylan laughed. “You are now.”

Sue Ellen put her hands on her hips. “Why me?”

Dylan’s blue eyes turned icy. “You know why.”

Her gaze darted away. She ran out of the room.

Sue Ellen hurried down the hall, ignoring Bre’s greeting as she passed her in the kitchen, and slammed the door as she left the house so that everyone would be aware of how upset she was.

Grandma would say that Sue Ellen couldn’t trust a man like that. A man like Dylan knew too much for Sue Ellen’s own good.

But, who was he to tell her what to do? It was her ball now, and she was going to keep it. Wasn’t much Dylan could actually do about it anyway—laying there weak as a newborn kitten.

Sue Ellen laughed and threw the little red ball into the air, watching it sail up into the sky and back down toward her again.

Ain’t nobody gonna tell her what to do.

She had plans for today, and those plans didn’t include being someone’s nursemaid.

Sue Ellen waved to the man keeping watch and skipped away.

After wandering down by the creek for a while, she found herself at the quiet little clearing where Annette and Mrs. Gilmore lived. She stopped at the edge of the tree line, hiding behind some scrub brush, and spying on Annette as she sat on the porch crying.

Everyone felt bad for the woman. No one really knew her or the guy that died—they’d kept to themselves so much.

But after he died, everyone brought Annette lots of food—the good stuff.

Sue Ellen swatted at a gnat circling her head.

She’d visited Annette, too. She would not miss out on scoring some of that food. Besides, she needed to keep an eye on that woman.

Sue Ellen considered another visit.

Annette might still have treats left.

As Sue Ellen set her foot in the clearing, the dark, delicious aroma of chocolate chip cookies wafted to her.

Mrs. Gilmore first then. Nothing beat fresh treats. Sue Ellen’s stomach rumbled at the thought.

On top of that, Mrs. Gilmore loved her. The old woman’s eyes always sparkled the instant she saw her.

The fact was, Sue Ellen couldn’t remember anyone who looked at her the way Mrs. Gilmore did—not even her own grandma and definitely not her parents.

Her parent’s eyes had always been dull with drink or hot with anger. Even though her father saved the beatings for Jesse, their mother hadn’t been above giving Sue Ellen a smack or two.

And then there was Grandma.

Someone had once told her she was lucky to live with her grandmother as if all of them were soft, loving, and smelled like cookies.

They obviously didn’t know her grandmother.

Her grandma was into what she called Life Lessons.

Every day held a lesson—and if Sue Ellen didn’t learn quick enough—anything from a long lecture to a few smacks and an afternoon in the dark, cobwebbed cupboards awaited her.

She shivered as if those creepy crawlers still covered her skin.

The most consistent theme of her grandmother’s lessons was all the many reasons a person couldn’t trust—well, anyone.

“Stop cryin’ over your dead mama!” Grandma would say. “I can’t stand your caterwauling. She never wanted you while she was alive, anyway. She’s pry up in heaven happy she ain’t putting up with you no more.”

“You only have yourself to rely on, girl. You need to practice that, so go find your own dinner tonight.”

“Why d’you bring that little girl from school home? Friends don’t do you no good—they leave you. That’s a lesson you need to remember, and I’m going to make sure you do.”

Grandma did real good teaching all those Life Lessons.

Sue Ellen remembered each one of them as if they’d happened yesterday.

Eleven

Chocolate Chip Cookies

Sue Ellen kept her head down as she passed Annette on her way to Mrs. Gilmore’s house.

Annette sniffled and tried to hide her tears, offering Sue Ellen a thin smile and a wave.

“Nice to see you, Sue Ellen.”

Sue Ellen waved back—a quick little tip of her hand. She didn’t want to seem too friendly and feel forced to talk to her. Not until after she’d had her cookies, anyway.

After running up the porch stairs of Mrs. Gilmore’s house, Annette tapped on the door. If the old lady was baking, it was likely she was right on the other side. There was no sense in banging on it too loud.

Just as Sue Ellen suspected, the door popped open in less than a second. She pretended to be startled and laughed. The old lady liked that.

Mrs. Gilmore pulled her into a hug. “Oh, Sue Ellen, it is so nice to have you visit! I wasn’t sure you’d be able to with everything going on with your family and all.”

She quickly cleared cookie trays off the table to make room for Sue Ellen. “There you go. Have a seat.”

Mrs. Gilmore poured a glass of milk and put a plate of cookies in the middle of the table.

Sue Ellen grinned and flashed her blue eyes at the older woman. “Oh, my, Mrs. Gilmore. These look amazing!”

Mrs. Gilmore put a gentle hand on either side of Sue Ellen’s face.

“You are so adorable. You remind me so much of my grandchildren, the poor dears. Well, no sense in dwelling on that. It won’t do anyone any good.”

She patted Sue Ellen’s puffy curls.

Sue Ellen frowned as Mrs. Gilmore turned to remove another batch of cookies from the oven. She’d rather Mrs. Gilmore like her for herself and not some dead grandchildren.

She shrugged as she bit into a chip-laden cookie. A girl like her wasn’t able to be picky. She had to take what she could get.

When Mrs. Gilmore turned back around, Sue Ellen smiled at her.

Several cookies later, as Sue Ellen patted her taunt belly, someone knocked on the door.

Mrs. Gilmore brightened. “Oh, my! This is a busy day.”

She leaned toward Sue Ellen and half-whispered, “How much do you want to bet they smelled my cookies baking?”

Sue Ellen giggled. “Of course, they did. What do you think brought me here?”

“Oh, you!” Mrs. Gilmore lightly poked Sue Ellen’s cheek on her way to the door. Sue Ellen rolled her eyes behind Mrs. Gilmore’s back. But if that was the price one had to pay . . .

“Oh, look who it is, Sue Ellen!”

The girl turned to see Travis, Mrs. Gilmore’s one remaining grandchild lingering in the door, frowning at her. What was up with him?

“Should we give him a cookie?” Mrs. Gilmore asked. Without waiting for an answer, she shoved one into his hand.

Sue Ellen quickly counted up how many of the sweet treats were left and said, “Sure. He works hard.”

“Here, Travis, sit down and have a treat.”

Travis hesitated. “Well, I can’t stay, Grandma. I just --“

Mrs. Gilmore fussed at him. “You haven’t visited for a while. Just stay for a moment—just long enough for one cookie.”

Travis gave up and sat in the chair. Once her second guest was seated, Mrs. Gilmore also sat and crossed her arms. “So, if the cookies didn’t bring you, what did?”

Travis tipped his head toward Sue Ellen. “She did.”

Sue Ellen gave Travis a double-take without giving away the fact she found him super-hot. Why in the world would he come here for her?

“You came here for Sue Ellen?” Mrs. Gilmore asked, echoing Sue Ellen’s thoughts.

“Yep. I was sent to fetch her. Seems she was supposed to be back at Doc’s a while ago.”

“What are you talking about?” Sue Ellen fired back. “Doc doesn’t want me.”

“Dylan does. Said you were supposed to be there hours ago.”

Sue Ellen put her hand on her hip. “Are you kidding me?”

Mrs. Gilmore put her hands to her mouth. “Oh, Sue Ellen, you must have forgotten! And here I’ve been filling your ear with nonsense.”

The woman stood and packed up all the cookies. “Please tell poor Dylan that I am so sorry! And give him the rest of these cookies. That poor man. Everything he’s gone through!”

Sue Ellen watched the treats disappear into a paper bag that Mrs. Gilmore handed to her grandson.

Sue Ellen steamed. She’d never lay eyes on a single one of them again.

Bag in hand, Travis rose and waved Sue Ellen up.

She ignored him. What could he really do? Drag her out of here?

But Mrs. Gilmore watched her, and the last thing Sue Ellen wanted to do was jeopardize future treats. She jumped out of her seat and rushed to the woman, hugging her. “I wish I could stay longer!”

That was certainly true. The last thing she wanted to do was to see Dylan.

As Travis hurried Sue Ellen out of the house, she glanced over at Annette’s home. The woman still sat on the front porch but was no longer crying.

Sue Ellen gave the woman a greeting as they passed by. At least Annette was staying put and not causing any trouble.

The sweet aroma of the chocolate chip cookies wafted to her, and she side-eyed the bag Mrs. Gilmore had packed for Dylan. Another one of those would help her get through the day.

“So, Travis, how about we have a couple of cookies?”

“Grandma said these were for Dylan.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind, and besides, she wouldn’t need to know.”

Travis shot her an uncertain glance. “We’ll see what Dylan says.”

“He doesn’t need to know either.”

He stopped short, staring at her. “You’re a sneaky one, aren’t you?”

Sue Ellen gave him a bold stare. “For heaven’s sake, they’re only cookies. Get a grip.”

Travis took a few steps. “They are for Dylan. You want one, take it up with him.”

Sue Ellen stayed where she was, hands on hips.

He turned and looked at her. “Come on now.”

“I ain’t going.”

With a frown, Travis asked, “Because of the cookies?”

“Because I don’t want to, you nitwit.”

“Well, you have to.” Travis walked back to her.

“Why?”

“Cause it’s where Dylan wants you to be.”

“Well, I ain’t going!” Sue Ellen turned to stomp back the way they had come.

Before she got too far, Travis wrapped his hand around her upper arm. “You’re coming with me if I have to drag you all the way there.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Travis moved, forcing Sue Ellen to walk or fall on her face.

She resisted at first, then fell in line after giving Travis’ shin a hard kick.

He gritted his teeth and tightened his hand.

She wiggled as far away as she could get. “Travis, let me go! You’re hurting me!”

Travis snorted. “I doubt that.”

“I’ll kick you again!”

He looked her over. “I was wrong. Not so much sneaky as downright mean.”

“Why are you going to all this trouble for Dylan?”

“Because he asked me. I’d do whatever he needed me to do cause he’d do the same for me. Besides, Dylan is not someone a person wants to cross. I guess that’s a lesson you ain’t learned yet.”

Not another person with lessons. “Shut up!”

“You’re not as smart as you think you are.”

“At least I’m not as dumb as you.”

Travis laughed. “Well, we’ll see, won’t we? We are here.” He let go of her arm and gave her a little push toward the stairs.

Sue Ellen scowled at him and made a big show of rubbing her arm, though it didn’t hurt at all. She shot a glance at the woods. Could she make a run for it?

No, he stood there waiting for her to make a move. He was so devoted to Dylan that he’d probably tackle her.

“And just so you know,” Travis said, his voice stern, “I’m on watch out here, so if I see you escaping, I’ll march you right back in.”

Sue Ellen huffed and stomped up the porch stairs just as Bre opened the front door.

“Hi, Sue Ellen!”

Sue Ellen crossed her arms and continued without comment. In the hallway, she turned and watched Travis pass the bag of cookies to Bre.

“These are for Dylan only. No one else,” he said.

Bre eyed him, a twinkle in her eye. “Of course, Travis. No problem.”

Sue Ellen let out an impatient groan.

Travis looked from Sue Ellen to Bre and leaned against the door frame as if he had all the time in the world to talk with the giggling girl.

Idiot boy!

Sue Ellen pulled a face before walking to Dylan’s room.

Twelve

A Mean Streak

Sue Ellen inched her way around the doorway of Dylan’s room. The man was sitting up, but his eyes were closed, and his face still pale.

Her gaze drifted around the room. Bare white walls, a couple of chairs, the bed, and a nightstand with a magazine on it.

No wonder Dylan wanted out of here.

Sue Ellen looked from the magazine to Dylan and back again.

He didn’t look like a magazine type of guy.

Maybe—if it had a truck or a picture of a big buck with a thousand-point antlers—or whatever. But the one sitting beside him had a grinning woman holding up a decorated cake against a pink backdrop.

Sue Ellen almost snorted. No, she didn’t think so.

When her gaze made it back to him, Dylan stared back at her.

She startled but quickly recovered. Sue Ellen frowned at him. “That’s creepy, you know. You’re not going to make any friends like that.”

“I got plenty of friends. You, on the other hand . . .”

Sue Ellen crossed her arms. “I’ve got friends!”

She didn’t really, but she hadn’t tried making any. It’s how she wanted it.

Dylan’s expression softened. “Things have been hard for you, before and after this outbreak. You should talk to Skye more. She’s helped Kelsey.”

Sue Ellen scoffed. “I don’t need shrinked. That’s for idiots that don’t know nothing.”

“Is that what your opinion of your brother is, girl?”

“No. Jesse’s different,” Sue Ellen backtracked. “Dad—Dad was real hard on him. Hurt him. Grandma never hurt me like that, and Dad never laid a hand on me.”

“There’s lots of ways to hurt someone.”

Sue Ellen thought of all those lessons, the mean things grandma called her, and the cupboard. She shrugged. “I ain’t talking about that.”

She turned away but couldn’t shake Dylan’s gaze.

“Sue Ellen.” Dylan waited for her to turn back toward him. “I’ve had it all. And sometimes there are things worse than being hit. Words can hurt more.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. She quickly brushed them away.

What was this about? Tears? Like she was a soft little girl again? What would Dylan think of that? He sure wouldn’t want some wimp around. “I ain’t weak!”

“That’s the last thing I’d call you.”

Relieved, she nodded.

“I’m just sayin’ sometimes the way we were brought up gets to us. It’s good to talk things out.”

“Okay. Whatever.”

Dylan sighed. “Well, get over here and help me up.”

“Are you sure we should be doing this?”

“Come on, girl.”

“What if you hurt yourself more?”

Dylan chuckled. “Don’t pretend you care now.”

Sue Ellen looked at the floor. “I do care. You’re the strongest one in this community. If you go down, we all go down.”

“Figures my getting better somehow comes around to you,” Dylan said with a twinkle in his eye. “Can’t really blame you, though.”

He waved her over. “But it’s fine. I gotta get up sometime. And it’s killin’ me to be here when Skye’s somewhere out there. Taken.” His voice broke. “I can’t—I can’t—I need to get better fast.”

Sue Ellen was taken aback by how openly this strong, tough guy showed his feelings for Skye.

So this was what it looked like when someone deeply cared for another person.

“Okay, fine,” she said with a frown. “But if you hurt yourself more, it ain’t gonna be my fault. And then you won’t be able to go after her. That’ll teach you a lesson.”

“Shut up and stand right here.” Dylan pointed to a spot on the floor beside the bed.

Sue Ellen moved closer.

It was clear that every move Dylan made was agony. But that didn’t stop him.

After he made it to the edge of the bed, he used her shoulder and the back of the straight chair to stand.

Well, at least tried to stand.

Sue Ellen critically eyed him. He was still kind of bent. As she watched him, a seldom-used emotion came over her.

Sympathy.

She put her arm around his waist and took more of his weight.

Dylan gave her a quick grin of approval.

The warm sensation of satisfaction spread through her. She was stunned. She’d never felt that over helping someone before. She was getting soft.

That wasn’t allowed—not with the world the way it was.

Dylan swayed, and his fingers dug into her shoulder.

Sure, the guy was in pain and had lost a lot. He may never get Skye back. But she couldn’t let that get to her.

Sue Ellen sighed and said in a cranky voice, “Are we done yet?”

“No.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry I stepped foot into this room.”

Dylan ignored her as he slid one foot forward. “I want to go out there.”

Sue Ellen looked skyward. “Fine.”

This was going to be more trouble than it was worth.

Once they made it to the bedroom doorway, Dylan stopped and leaned against the frame. The sweat poured off him.

“You should stop now,” she said. “You look like you’re gonna throw up.”

“No.”

“I’m just sayin’.”

“I said no.”

Dylan laid an arm over her shoulder instead of merely clutching her.

She rubbed it after he let go. Without a doubt, she’d have a bruise there tomorrow.

“Talk about something,” he demanded.

“Uh?” Sue Ellen sent Dylan a surprised glance. When did he ever want to chit-chat? She searched her mind for something he’d be interested in but came up blank.

“You talk, or I’m gonna.” With his voice gruff from pain, it sounded like a threat.

“Whatever.”

“Why d’you take that ball from the kid?”

Sue Ellen’s head whipped toward him. “How did you know how I got that ball?”

“I have my ways.”

“What? Like you’re a secret agent now?”

Dylan snorted. “Somethin’ like that. Don’t sidetrack. Why?”

Sue Ellen looked at the floor. It was a question she’d asked herself about a number of things she did, but she didn’t have a real answer for why she was so mean. “I don’t know. It’s funny to see people’s shocked faces, I guess.”

“So, this is a regular thing?”

Sue Ellen shrugged.

Dylan took a couple of steps down the hallway. Then smacked the back of Sue Ellen’s head. Not hard, but enough to get her attention.

Sue Ellen frowned and jerked away. “Hey!”

“You’re right. It’s funny.”

Sue Ellen’s scowl deepened.

Dylan continued, “Now every time you do something mean to someone else, you remember how you feel right now.”

Sue Ellen rolled her eyes, but he ignored her and continued with his warning.

“Every time you do something mean to someone else, I’m going to do something mean to you.”

“Like making me give you a walk?”

“I ain’t kidding.”

Sue Ellen stilled. “Like what?”

“Like putting you in your room and telling you that you can’t leave.”

“Grounding me? That’s what you’re going to do?”

Dylan shrugged. “If that’s what it takes.”

Sue Ellen huffed and tried to turn away.

Dylan may have been weak, but he was still stronger than her. He pulled her back. “If that doesn’t work, I’m going to start taking things away from you.”

“Well, jokes on you because I don’t have anything.”

“You have that music thing.”

Sue Ellen’s mouth dropped. “My iPod? You can’t do that. That’s so—so—”

“Mean? I think we just saw I can be mean too. You don’t be mean—I won’t be mean. Got it?”

Sue Ellen ground her teeth. Well, he couldn’t take her iPod now anyway—she didn’t know where it was. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m your parent now.”

“No, you ain’t.”

“I don’t see anyone else around here claiming you. I’m your family now. Get used to it.”

“And that’s what you think dads do? They ground their children, like, all the time?”

“The good ones do it—if necessary.”

Sue Ellen crossed her arms. “Wade wouldn’t do this.”

“Wade’s too soft on you. He sees your curls and big eyes and forgets what’s inside.”

“I want him to be my dad.”

Dylan burst out laughing, then held his side. “Yeah, I bet you do. It ain’t happening. He can be the fun uncle. I’m the mean dad.”

Sue Ellen stomped her foot. “No.”

He looked at her foot as if it offended him. “You want the grounding to start right now, girl?”

“Are you kidding me?”

Dylan raised his gaze and stared at her until her defiant one turned to the floor.

“You already sound like a dad,” Sue Ellen complained.

“Good. Must be doing somethin’ right then. Now help me back to bed and get me a glass of water.”

It was a mystery to Sue Ellen why she didn’t just run out the door as soon as he was seated.

Sure, he protected all of them, including her, but she could find someone else for that. She shot him a glance out of the side of her eye. He was tough, for sure, tough as they come. Why was he taking time to worry about what she was doing in the middle of everything going on?

Why did he care?

Wait. Did he care?

No. Her grandma hadn’t ever said she’d cared in all her life. Her dad certainly hadn’t. She did remember her mom holding her and rocking her, especially after she’d been drinking.

So if none of them cared all that much, how could this guy after a few months?

Quietly, Sue Ellen walked to the kitchen and filled a couple of glasses of water for him. It was Dylan’s habit to drink two cups of water at a time.

When he drank those, she went and filled another and sat it on the bedside table for later.

“Well, if we’re done here, I’m going to head home.”

“Okay, come back in the morning. Directly after breakfast, which you need to eat at daybreak. Understand?”

Sue Ellen’s mouth dropped open, and she sputtered. “I ain’t getting up that early!”

“Yes, you are, or I’ll send Travis after you with orders to drag you back here. We got a lot of work to do.”

Sue Ellen stomped out of the room, wondering why she’d ever agreed to come to this mountain in the first place.

* * *

Dylan chuckled as he watched Sue Ellen leave, hissing and spitting like a mad kitten. The girl had issues, no doubt about that. She needed firm direction.

Sue Ellen had been left to her own devices for too long. Skye had thought Sue Ellen only needed time to settle in. But Dylan had known from the beginning that the girl had a mean streak a mile wide.

She reminded him of himself when he was a teenager.

Yes, she tried to play him, but he played her better.

Dylan laughed as the front door banged shut.

The girl was going to be doing a lot more door slamming in the days to come.

Thirteen

Whatever

The next morning, Dylan groaned as he lowered himself into the straight chair across from his bed. He eyed the short trail he’d taken to get there and shook his head.

What a sorry state he was in!

He heard the ruckus before he saw Sue Ellen and chuckled.

She entered the room madder than a wet hen. Travis just about dragged her through the door.

Her angry scowl was the worst face Dylan had ever seen, and he’d seen plenty of her sour looks.

Travis pulled Sue Ellen until she stood in front of Dylan. “Here you go, Boss.”

Unused to the title—and not sure how he felt about it—Dylan winced.

Sue Ellen turned and kicked Travis above his ankle.

The young man dropped her arm and took a few steps backward, then leaned over and rubbed his shin.

Dylan nodded his appreciation to Travis. It couldn’t have been easy getting Sue Ellen here.

Then he turned to the steaming girl, “Why don’t you sit down?”

She let out an exaggerated sigh and plopped into a matching straight chair across from Dylan.

Travis straightened and stood over her with crossed arms.

Sue Ellen let out a muted scream, crossed her own arms, and slammed herself back into the chair. Her blond curls had gone wild, and her blue eyes blazed like lightning.

Dylan leaned forward, elbows on knees. “I’d feel sorry for ya, but I warned you. I don’t have days to waste. Every day I’m stuck in that bed is a day without Skye—not knowing — “He shook his head, trying to get rid of the constant uncertainty circling his thoughts.

What was happening to her? Had Wade found her? Or was she miles away and getting further away by the minute?

Dylan pushed his concern away—first things first. He needed to get stronger. And if he was able to teach the girl something while he was doing so, that’d be a good thing.

Dylan pressed his lips into a thin line and sat back in his chair, staring at Sue Ellen. Stares were effective weapons. If one stared at another person long enough, they often became uncomfortable and started talking.

A person could learn a lot that way.

Sue Ellen may think she was immune to mind games, but she wasn’t. Within a minute, she was spitting venom. “I don’t have to be here. You can’t make me!”

Dylan didn’t say a word—just kept staring.

Sue Ellen huffed. “It’s not my job to take care of you. I have other things to do!”

Dylan raised an eyebrow at her. Sue Ellen shifted her gaze to the floorboards.

He cleared his throat. “Everything you just said is wrong.”

“It ain’t. I’ve got things to do!”

Dylan barked out a laugh. “What? Steal from kids, sass your elders, and kick people?”

Sue Ellen bristled, but before she blurted anything out, Dylan put up a hand to stop her.

“She kick you before now?” he asked the young man.

Travis’s face reddened. “Yeah, a few times.”

If the girl had known what was best for her, she would have apologized, at least looked contrite.

Instead, Sue Ellen smirked.

Dylan leaned forward. “Sue Ellen, I’m disappointed in you.”

The girl looked surprised, and her smile faded. For a moment, she gave Dylan a blank stare then shifted in her seat. “Whatever. I don’t care what you think.”

“Too bad, cause if you did, you’d know I was thinking that you’ll be staying here with me all day.”

“I ain’t!”

“You are. Travis will be here to make sure you don’t slither your way out.”

Sue Ellen shot a glance of pure hatred to both Dylan and Travis.

Dylan’s jaw tightened. No one could do that quite as well as a teenage girl.

Dylan studied the sullen Sue Ellen. He would not get anywhere goading her like this. It was time to change tactics. “Sue Ellen, I’m troubled about Skye and Kelsey—Jesse—all of them. I want to get on my feet as fast as I can, and I need your help to do that.”

Sue Ellen slumped in her seat. “Why me?”

“Cause, girl, you’re family now. All we got in this huge, empty world is this community—this family. You need us, and we need you. I need you to help me get better so I can get to Skye.”

Sue Ellen’s face lost some of its frown, but she still refused to look at Dylan.

“’Sides, the faster I get myself together, the faster I’ll be out of here. If you don’t look forward to nothin’ else, look forward to that.”

She shot Dylan a wry glance. “Now you’re talking.”

“Yeah. Thought you’d like that.”

“Okay.” Sue Ellen stood, shooting Travis daggers when he moved closer to her. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want to get out of here. Walk around outside.”

“That’s it? You couldn’t have had this bully of yours do that.”

“I told you. It’s your job to help me. Travis has other things to do.”

“Like harass innocent citizens?”

“What?” Travis sputtered.

Sue Ellen walked over to Dylan, waiting for him to stand. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll help you.”

“Not whatever. It means a lot.”

She nodded.

If her upbringing were anything like his, she’d rarely heard words like that. Dylan understood. The sudden sheen in her eyes told him his praise affected her.

Dylan kept Sue Ellen with him throughout the day. He hoped this forced time together would help him gain her trust. The girl needed to know she had a support system. He doubted she’d ever had much of that.

Besides, something was eating at her. Dylan would have noticed it behind every guarded glance and every careful moment of hers, even if he hadn’t seen the evidence out in the field with his own eyes.

Dylan let out a long groan at the end of their walk as he dropped onto the bed, a hand covering his wound. He kicked off his shoes, letting them fall to the side of the bed. “So, you gonna be here tomorrow?”

He waited for her snarky answer, and she didn’t disappoint.

“You plan on sendin’ that goon after me if I don’t?”

“If I need to.”

“You won’t. Need to, I mean.” She uttered a long-suffering sigh. “I’ll be here.”

“Goodnight, girl.”

Sue Ellen didn’t answer until she reached the door when she turned back toward him and grinned. “Whatever.”

Fourteen

Confessions

Dylan and Sue Ellen developed an uneasy alliance. Dylan made progress, getting stronger throughout the next day. He was sure being out in the fresh air—in his beloved forest—had something to do with it.

Sue Ellen slapped her arms, unhappy with their surroundings. “What are we doin’ out here with all these bugs? Can’t we at least stay closer to the houses?”

“Sure. When we’re done with this round.”

Dylan gripped his walking stick tighter and picked up the pace, happy he no longer needed to lean on Sue Ellen as much. It couldn’t be easy for her to haul around a guy his size.

Dylan led them through the woods and into the glen where the shooting happened.

Sue Ellen scanned the area, her eyes round.

Though he noticed, Dylan said nothing. Instead, he crouched near the spot he’d fallen after being wounded.

The memory hit him hard.

His pounding heart as he’d waited to see if the shooter would rush over to finish him off.

The white-hot pain driving through his middle like a poker.

His worry the shooter would go after Skye next as he lay there almost defenseless.

He studied the ground but saw little he didn’t already know. He stood and stared across the glen--at the spot he reckoned the shooter had stood. Dylan walked over to it.

Sue Ellen gasped and trailed him.

Dylan scanned the ground for a few minutes before finding evidence of what he suspected—where the shooter lay in wait.

Time had gone by, but there could be no mistaking the bullet casings and cigarette butts.

Dylan turned and stared at Sue Ellen. “Anything you want to tell me?”

Sue Ellen kept her eyes to the ground and shook her head.

Dylan’s eyes narrowed. “You take up smoking?”

“No—no, sir. I ain’t.”

Dylan crouched and ran his fingers along the grass. He found what had caught his eye. A thin gold money clip, minus any money. He frowned.

“What happened here, Sue Ellen?”

“I don’t—I didn’t—” Sue Ellen turned to run. Dylan reached out just in time to catch her, almost losing his balance.

He squeezed her shoulder. “You can tell me, girl. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Tears sprang to Sue Ellen’s eyes as she looked at Dylan. She opened her mouth, trembled and shook her head. “I can’t,” she sobbed, “I don’t know nothin’.”

Dylan stared at her for a moment. She couldn’t trust him any more than he’d trusted anyone at her age.

Sue Ellen’s sobs intensified, and she folded in on herself, becoming smaller and smaller.

“You ashamed of yourself, Sue Ellen?”

Her face flooded with color. She gulped and trembled. Her nod took over her entire body, shaking it from head to toe. She sank to the ground.

Dylan looked from the girl to the money clip and back again. This sure wasn’t hers. He slipped the clip into his jean pocket, then leaned down and pulled Sue Ellen up. Dylan put an arm around her and kept his voice soft and comforting. “It’s okay now. It’s done. Nothin’ anyone can do about it now.”

* * *

Sue Ellen swallowed hard and opened her mouth, but only nodded.

“You can tell me. You can tell me anything. I’ve made a lot of mistakes myself, so it ain’t like I’d judge you harshly. I know you were out here that day.”

“I wasn’t here. I wasn’t!”

Sue Ellen wrapped her arms around herself. She had to stick to her story—she had to.

She’d thought little of this place—this community—until she realized she could lose it. If they were aware she’d known about the rat among the bunch and didn’t tell them, they’d throw her out. Then where would she go? She wouldn’t survive all by herself.

At her denial, Dylan nodded and walked back to where he laid bleeding that day. He took a few steps to the left, picked something off the ground, and handed it to her. The iPod.

“It was there that day, Sue Ellen.”

She gasped and stepped back, numb with shock. How did she get out of this?

She wanted to run, but even if Dylan was slower than normal, there was nowhere to go.

“I didn’t—I swear, I didn’t shoot you.” Her voice shook.

“But you know something.”

Sue Ellen closed her eyes. Tears trailed down her cheeks, and she wondered how she could be such a baby. Her grandma would have whacked her for sure and left her alone for hours under the stairs in the dark with the spiders.

“Please—please don’t hate me! Don’t throw me out. I wouldn’t make it, and I’d become one of those—those things! I can’t—I can’t—“

Her legs weakened as she imagined them tearing at her—turning her into a useless husk of a person.

“I’m sorry—I’m so sorry,” she mumbled between sobs.

Dylan put a hand on her shoulder. “Sue Ellen. No one is going to throw you out of here.”

“They will.”

“This is my mountain and I’m tellin’ ya—I won’t allow anyone to throw you out.” He patted her shoulder. “Whatever mistake you’ve made--I can guarantee I’ve done worse.”

Worse? Sue Ellen doubted it. She wasn’t sure the shooting had anything to do with Skye and Kelsey’s abduction, but she strongly suspected it. And if that was the case, he would definitely hate her.

“Skye being gone.” She hiccupped. “It might be—I’m not sure—but something I knew—"

“We ain’t gonna know until you tell.”

She eyed him. He was eager to hear what she had to say, but not furious. “I was here, but I was so scared I ran at the first shot. I didn’t know you and Skye were here until later.”

It was true. There was no way she would’ve left knowing Dylan lay bleeding.

Dylan took the news well. It gave Sue Ellen the courage to continue on. Once she started, the story poured out of her.

“You know that guy that died?”

“Ethan?”

“Yeah. Him and Annette fought one day, and I overheard. He talked about someone he worked for—someone who expected some kind of shipment. I thought that was weird because of how things are, you know.”

Dylan gave her a quick nod.

“Annette didn’t want him to go through with it, but he said they had his family. It was the only way to get them back. It was his family or this community, and he’d give us up in a heartbeat to save them.”

Sue Ellen glanced at Dylan to see if he hated her yet, but he seemed okay. But the next part would be the hardest part.

Sue Ellen’s stomach jumped with nerves. “I kept an eye on them. I really did. Nothing seemed to happen. Then he died. So I thought—I thought it was all over. But when Skye—I just don’t know—should I have told you?”

“You should have.” Dylan’s voice turned rough, and his jaw was hard. He hadn’t moved a muscle. He was mad.

Sue Ellen eyed him as she wiped the tears from her face. “If you need to hit me, it’s okay.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and waited.

“Sue Ellen, I ain’t gonna hit you! I thought you knew me better.”

“Yeah, but this is really bad, so . . . “

“I ain’t gonna hit you. Okay?” He grasped her arm to steady himself as he walked. “Let’s go see Annette. See what she knows.”

As they made their way back to the community, relief flooded through Sue Ellen. She hadn’t noticed its weight until it was gone.

Now she seemed lighter—walked taller.

She wiped the last of the tears from her face, unable to believe that Dylan could forgive her like that.

Somehow he had, and somehow all this emotion had cleansed her, made her feel different—better. Safer, even.

She frowned as she navigated a narrow part of the trail, pushing some thorny bushes out of the way.

Safer? Maybe this light emotion wasn’t only relief.

Sue Ellen glanced at Dylan. Could this unfamiliar emotion possibly be—

Was this what trust felt like?

Fifteen

Pieces

Dylan wearied as they walked up the back way to Annette’s house, but he pulled in another deep breath and continued. There was work to do.

A quick word to the watchman on duty sent him scurrying to find Tom. The sheriff should be here for this.

Dylan put a hand to his aching side as he climbed the stairs to Annette’s porch. The house was dark, but there were few places the woman would be.

Behind the door, something stirred. Dylan put a hand on the hilt of his large knife.

The door opened a quarter of the way. Annette’s face peeked around. “Yes?”

“Annette,” Dylan said. “I was sorry to hear about Ethan. I reckon we haven’t gotten acquainted real well. But I think it’s time we talked.”

“I’m sorry about your injury and appreciate you stopping by, but I want to be alone.”

She started to push the door closed.

Dylan slapped his hand against the wood. “Nope. Ain’t gonna happen. Seems like Ethan’s death and the shooting are connected. Maybe even the kidnapping of Skye and Kelsey. Is that right?”

The woman’s face paled and her eyes widened. “How am I supposed to know anything about that?”

Sue Ellen glanced over her shoulder and murmured, “Tom’s here.”

Dylan appreciated the information, though he’d been aware of that a few minutes ago. The man tromped through the forest like an elephant trodding on bubble wrap.

“Thing is, Annette,” Dylan said. “We know you do. And there ain’t no way I’m leaving here without every scrap of information I can get. Somethin’ you know may help me find my Skye.”

Determination and desperation had stirred his emotions, and he almost broke down.

Annette stared at him for a moment—then she opened the door and waved him in—whether from guilt or pity, Dylan wasn’t sure.

Tom and his deputy, Aaron, piled in behind him.

Annette plopped into an upright recliner, her hands covering her face as if afraid to look at them.

“I told him,” she began, “I told him none of this would work. I told him to ask for help—that was the only way to go about this. I finally had him talked into it. He was going to come to see you the next morning, Sheriff. But then—And honestly, I don’t think it was a natural death.”

Tom nodded. “It certainly was nothing we’d ever seen before, that’s why the Doc was taking so much care.”

“No. What I mean is—someone did that to him. Poisoned him.”

Tom quickly sat back in his seat.

Dylan understood his surprise. He felt gut-punched himself—if Ethan had been poisoned, who had done it?

Aaron ran a hand over his tight curls. “Annette, perhaps you should start at the beginning.”

Annette squeezed her eyes shut as if praying for strength before she began. “Ethan’s family and mine were on the road together—runnin’ to somewhere safe. A gang of men came along and tried to take some of our people. A fight broke out. I lost my entire family on that road.”

She let out a shaky sob. “But Ethan didn’t. They were taken. The leader said he’d bring his family back if he helped find more people to replace them. When Ethan said he didn’t know where any people were, the guy pointed at this mountain. “Head up there,” he told us. “Get me them, and I’ll give yours back.””

Annette held up her hands and shook her head. “I wasn’t for it—told Ethan not to do it, and he was starting to change his mind. We thought you all could help with his family. I think someone realized that and killed him before he talked to you, Sheriff.”

“Why are these people going around takin’ others?” Dylan asked.

“They said there was a group called White Coats offering food, jewels, and gold for healthy people. They are experimenting for a cure.” Annette scanned their faces. “That’s good, right?”

Dylan scoffed. “Then why do they have to kidnap people? If it was a good thing, people would be linin’ up at their door.”

Annette’s hair covered her face as she looked at the ground. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry this led to your family being hurt.”

“What do you know that will help find Skye and Kelsey?”

“The White Coats are located along the ocean. I’m not sure where, but you take the highway South.”

The group left Annette and convened outside.

“I hate to say it but what if there’s more like Ethan—traitors here on this mountain? What if someone in the community is working against us and poisoned him?” Tom said.

“It’s possible, but it could’ve been a stranger,” Dylan answered. “Look around. This little glen is the farthest from the center of the community. A stranger could’ve come up the back way like we did today. No one would see them if they were careful to creep in.”

Aaron nodded. “And anyone could have shot at you in that field.”

“I found this.” Dylan pulled the gold money clip out of his pocket. “Look familiar?”

Aaron, Tom, and Sue Ellen shook their heads.

“I think,” Tom said as he stroked his chin, “that we should still be on the lookout for anyone acting suspicious, just in case. We don’t want to be caught unaware again.”

Sue Ellen’s brow wrinkled. “I can help with that.”

When Tom shot her a dubious glance, Dylan defended her. “Take her up on it. The girl’s got a sixth sense when it comes to readin’ people—like I do.” He ruffled her curly hair until she protested. Dylan smiled down at her. “It runs in the family.”

Sue Ellen suppressed a smile, but Dylan could tell she was pleased.

The little group started down their different paths for home. As Dylan and Sue Ellen got closer to the doctor’s cabin, a shadow separated itself from the building.

Dylan’s heart jumped.

Jesse!

Dylan quickly glanced around, but there was no one else. He squeezed the girl’s shoulder and mumbled, “Maybe it’s okay.”

He rushed over to the boy and gave him a bearhug.

Over Jesse’s head, Dylan’s eyes darted around the camp, hoping to see Skye.

But when his eyes landed on Spencer, the man looked at the ground.

No. Not here then.

Dylan looked at Jesse. “What happened? Where’s Skye and Kelsey?”

“We trailed them to a Containment Center. But the men who had them traded them to someone else.”

“What?” Dylan’s stomach hardened.

“They met the White Coats there and gave Skye and Kelsey to them.”

Dylan let go of Jesse and ran a hand through his hair. “Where’s Wade?”

“He talked to the guys who took them. Now he’s following the new bad guys. We came to get you.”

Dylan nodded. “Let me get packed up.”

Sue Ellen came up behind them. “Dylan?”

Dylan turned, a question in his eyes.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“I gotta be, girl.” At her instant frown, Dylan put a hand to Sue Ellen’s shoulder. “I’d do the same for you. It’ll be okay. Talk to your brother while I get my stuff together.”

Dylan rushed through his packing and stepped back outside, going directly over to the teenagers. He shoved his pack at Jesse. “Take this to the truck. I want to talk to your sister.”

As Jesse walked off, Dylan turned to Sue Ellen. “Where have you been stayin’?”

She shrugged. “At the cabin.”

Dylan didn’t like it. She needed someone to watch her back. “You doin’ okay there?”

Sue Ellen shrugged. “Gets a little lonely sometimes.”

“Why don’t you stay with this girl here, Bre?”

“Cause she doesn’t like me.”

Dylan huffed out a sigh. “You been mean to her too?”

Sue Ellen scuffed the toe of her shoe in the dirt.

Dylan shook his head and bent to peer into her face. “See what that gets ya? No one around when you need help.”

Sue Ellen bit her lip.

“If you get lonely, go to Tricia’s. She’ll take you in whether she likes you or not. She’s family.”

Sue Ellen scoffed.

“Sue Ellen, you’re sixteen. How about you not shove everyone out of your life just yet? You got an entire lifetime to do that.”

She turned red. “Yeah, well--“

“Don’t say whatever. This is important.” Dylan drew the girl to him and gave her a quick, hard hug. “And that ball you still carry in your pocket? Give it back to the little kid. Got it?”

“Okay, sure,” she said and shrugged. “Why not?”

“And one more thing, Sue Ellen—try to be good. Try to do better.”

Dylan turned to walk away.

“Dylan?”

He stopped and looked back at her. “Yeah?”

“You’re right.”

“About what?”

“About, well, everything.”

Sue Ellen gave him a quick hard hug. “This is a good place. You all are a good family. I’ll try harder.”

She waved him off. “Now go get our girls. I have some apologies to make.”

Sixteen

Seaside

Despite Skye’s best efforts to keep her eyes open, the sway of the truck lulled her to sleep.

A few times Skye startled awake, and once more determined to stay alert. Once the driver had wound his way through a snarl of abandoned vehicles. Another time as they bumped over what felt like the meridian and back again.

But then the familiar hum of the road would begin, and she would fall back into an exhausted sleep.

The rapid staccato of raindrops pounding the metal roof of the vehicle jerked her awake.

Beside her, Kelsey sat upright, eyes open wide. “I’d forgotten,” she said.

Skye squeezed her hand, then inched her way toward the front of the truck. If she could get close enough, she would be able to peer through the pass-thru window to the outside.

The trick was not being seen.

Skye gave a quick glance at the men in front to assure her their attention was on the road before peeking out.

Flat grasslands rippled from the stiff breeze into the horizon. The few tall, slim trees grew in clumps and swayed, bumping against their close neighbors.

Skye sniffed. No ocean yet, but it wasn’t far off. She could smell it.

She slid down to the floor and scooted back to her spot beside Kelsey.

“Where do you think we are?” the girl asked.

“East coast. Definitely, near the ocean. Do you agree?”

“Yes, I smell it too.”

“Not many houses out there. The ground must be too marshy to build on.”

Kelsey’s shoulders sagged.

Skye understood. Their best chance was a place where they were able to lose themselves. If they could find a nearly abandoned neighborhood where someone still lived and was willing to help them that would be perfect.

These grasslands wouldn’t cut it.

The driver and the big man began talking.

Skye scooted closer, trying to hear the conversation.

Tattered billboards came into view.

Welcome to Seaside.

Pet the dolphins at Seaside’s Marine Center.

The driver turned at the next left and Skye perked up.

Small colorful houses, many missing siding or shutters, lined the street. As they weaved through the heart of the town, a brick building with battered blue awnings came into view. It was clear that a terrible storm had blown through the once pretty town.

A few minutes later, the driver pulled into the parking lot of a large domed building. The sign over the structure had lost a few of its letters, but enough remained to read it.

Seaside Marine Center.

Skye frowned. Why were they bringing them here?

The property’s metal outbuilding lay in twisted ruins, but the primary structure seemed in good repair even if a few windows and doors were boarded up.

Beyond the major building lay the ocean—surging and churning as if the storm hadn’t done enough damage and it wanted to try again.

The driver slammed the truck to a stop.

Skye slapped her hands against the wall, trying to find something to grab. Her palms squeaked against the smooth panels, but she kept her footing.

The front doors squeaked open and slammed shut. The men’s shoes slapped against the pavement as they walked to the back of the truck.

Skye held her breath as the vehicle’s back door rolled up.

Skye and Kelsey squinted and shielded their faces with bent arms.

The driver growled his impatience, but the large man waved them toward the back of the truck with a gentle hand and seemed considerate as he helped Kelsey from the tall vehicle.

As Skye got closer to the edge, the driver yanked her to the ground. She stumbled, then pushed off the pavement, scanning the lot as she did so.

Other than a few deserted vehicles, it was empty.

Now was the time to run.

Seventeen

Make It Through

Before Skye could make her move, the tall man with the bad attitude and iron grip came around the vehicle.

He gave Skye a long scathing stare. “Just wanna make you aware that this place uses tasers—strong ones. So I wouldn’t go getting uppity for them. Got it?”

Skye deflated and nodded, unsure if he wanted a verbal answer or not.

Another truck rattled into the parking lot and came to a jarring halt.

Three men jumped out, dragging a blindfolded and tied man and woman. The woman’s shrill screams shattered the relative quietness of the place.

The men were rough with the couple. The woman’s bare legs bleeding after scraping the uneven concrete.

As captive man struggled, the men punched and kicked him. Even when the captive man stopped and curled into a ball, they continued to beat him.

The tall man pulled Skye close—a hand wound tight around her upper arm. “And you think I’m mean,” he said as he hauled her to the front door.

As they passed the other group, the tall man sneered, “None to gentle there, uh, Max?”

“Hey, they don’t pay me to be nice, just to get them here. I don’t remember hearing any other condition but alive. So if we have a little fun on the way . . . ”

His associates sniggered.

The tattooed man scoffed. “Pervert,” he muttered.

Skye gave the beaten couple a sympathetic glance. Wishing there was something she could do.

The tall man pushed her through the front doors of the Marine Center. A woman and boy swept the floor along the far wall in the dim, but spotless, lobby.

Old demonstration kiosks were shoved into a corner, replaced by a couple of long plastic tables.

Skye’s gaze darted from one side of the massive, echoing room to the other. How many captives had come through here on a regular basis?

Kelsey seemed calm as she examined the interior of the building—much better than Skye’s thumping heart allowed her to be. She was so on edge—her skin hurt.

The tall man pushed them toward a table. The woman behind it refused to look at Skye or Kelsey—instead, she focused on the tall man. “Name?”

“You know my name. Don’t act like I’m a stranger.”

“But then you kinda are, aren’t you, Zane?”

“I’m here when I’m here. I’m not when I’m not. Take it or leave it.”

Skye’s gaze darted between Zane and the woman behind the table. A lover’s quarrel? It would have been funny in any other circumstances.

“Whatever, Zane.” The woman’s gaze wavered toward Skye but never quite made it. She talked aloud as she wrote. “Two women.”

Skye pulled in a breath to protest that Kelsey was a child. Before the words formed on her lips, Zane slapped the back of her head so hard she stumbled against the table. He grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her upright. “Manners!”

The woman taking his information flinched and took a step backward.

Zane punched his finger at the paper she’d slid toward him. “Two women today. Sam brought in a bunch yesterday.”

“Yes. Well, you may want to talk to Kevin about that.”

Zane’s eyes narrowed. “You guys better not be trying to jack me up.”

The woman’s voice wavered. “Kevin knows more about it than I do.” She picked up the paper and handed it to him. The white sheet shook.

Wow, lots of trouble in this little paradise.

Zane’s gaze scraped over the woman as he grabbed the paper from her hand. “I’ll be around tonight.”

She nodded but said nothing.

Zane re-wrapped a hand around Skye’s upper arm and jerked her across the lobby toward a hallway.

On their left stood a massive water tank filled with dirty water with undulating ribbons of algae. For a moment, Skye looked for other sea life.

Scowling, Zane came to a halt and began a terse conversation with a large, round man in a white coat. “What’s going on, Kevin?”

“Well, I hate to tell you, but half of yesterday’s isn’t going to make it.”

“Run the tests again.”

“We already did.”

“Fine,” Zane growled. “Here’s two more, maybe they’ll make up for the others—and I want my bonus if they hit the jackpot.”

He shoved Skye at Kevin. She had no choice but to grab him or fall.

Kevin wrinkled his nose. Skye would’ve loved to be offended, but she could smell herself. Some was her—some was the goo from the floor of the truck.

Zane laughed. “They already spent the night with the Sick, and they’re just fine.”

“You know the rules. That doesn’t count. We do that here.”

“I know, I know. If they don’t make it through the night, I don’t get paid.”

“If you want a room for yourself—see the woman up front.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Zane threw over his shoulder as he swaggered off.

Skye looked through the lobby windows to the parking lot outside. If they got any further into this building, they may not get a chance to get away. It was now or never.

She threw a glance at Kelsey and readied herself to bolt.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Kevin warned her.

Two large men with guns slung over their shoulders and tasers pointed at her seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Skye eyed them, then sagged.

She looked at Kelsey, who nodded toward Kevin.

The girl was right. What choice did they have?

Kevin took the lead with Skye and Kelsey following. The sharp-eyed men with guns trailed after them.

Skye glanced up at Kevin. “Please tell me what is going on!”

Kevin sighed. “I hate this part, but I’ve found it is easier to answer the questions as they’re asked. I’m not sure what you’ve been told so far, so I’ll start at the beginning.”

He gave her a sharp glance. “We are looking for a cure to the AgFlu. To do that, we need immune people. You have volunteered to help us with the research.”

“First off, I disagree,” Skye bristled. “We did not volunteer. They kidnapped us. And the AgFlu has swept through the world. It has done its damage. Why are you worried about it now?”

“I’m explaining the facility—not conversing with you. This is the only explanation you will get, so keep your mouth shut and listen.”

Skye frowned and looked away.

Kevin continued. “If you make it through the night with no signs of AgFlu, the testing will begin in earnest. If you do not, I will make other arrangements for you.”

It sounded morbid. Skye glanced at Kelsey. The teenager’s suspicious expression mirrored her own.

“Make it through the night? What does that mean?”

Kevin stopped in front of a large barred room similar to a jail cell—or an animal cage.

The room was divided again with steel bars. One side was small, no wider than a twin bed. The other side was much larger and filled with filthy, disgusting Sick.

Skye’s heart dropped. She tensed, fighting the guards as they shoved her and a struggling Kelsey toward the cell. When Skye and Kelsey seemed to gain ground, the guards picked them up and threw them in.

Skye landed hard against the concrete floor. Quickly, she and Kelsey stood and plastered themselves against the gray block wall.

The Sick leaned into the bars on their side, hands grasping as they extended their arms as far as they could go.

The metal barred door clanked shut, sealing their doom.

Kelsey jerked and moaned as a Sick woman grabbed a handful of her shirt and pulled her closer. She and Skye hammered the woman’s filthy hand until she yelped and let go.

Skye pulled Kelsey to her. They cowered together in the tiny corner between the door and block wall.

Skye threw a frightened, pleading look at Kevin.

Kevin repeated her former question. “What do you have to do to make it through the night?” He put a hand around one of the bars separating him from their prison. “You survive this.”

Skye put her hand on his. “Please, Kevin. Have some pity.”

He stared at her.

If he saw them as fellow humans perhaps, he would change his mind. “Some food or water?”

His gaze turned flinty. “Nope. We don’t waste that on the dying.”

Skye dropped her hand from his as she barely missed the grasping fingers of another Sick. She swallowed hard. “And when we make it through this?”

“We inject you with it.”

Horrified, Skye shuddered.

She tightened her hold on Kelsey as Kevin walked away. Icy dread filled her, but she fought it. She and Kelsey would make it through the night—she knew they would—they had both been this close to the Sick before.

But injected with the disease? Had anyone ever made it through that?

“Oh, Kelsey. I’m so sorry.”

Kelsey hung onto Skye. “Don’t give up yet, Skye. I never thought I’d get out of Fenton, and I did. We’ll get out of this.”

Skye laid her head over Kelsey’s as her eyes filled with tears.

She wouldn’t tell the girl, but she’d given up the moment she heard the barred door clang shut behind them.

Eighteen

The Long Night

Skye and Kelsey stood until exhaustion set in. The adrenaline surging through Skye from the beginning of this fight until now had sapped her energy.

Here, in the dim light, minutes seemed like hours and despite the threat, her body ached for rest.

Kelsey stumbled and grabbed Skye, saying, “I’m falling asleep on my feet. Literally. I didn’t know that was really possible.”

“I’m almost there too.”

Kelsey pointed out a thin strip of concrete against the block wall. “I think, if we lay lengthwise along this wall, we would be out of their reach. I can scoot to the top. You could have this area.”

Skye nodded. It looked like two women of average height could fit. “Let’s try it but be careful.”

“I will—believe me.”

Kelsey inched her way forward, staying as close to the wall as possible. She jerked to her side and sucked her stomach in when one Sick man’s long arm almost grabbed her.

On reaching the back wall, the girl settled in as best she could against hard concrete and bars.

Despite the harsh conditions, Kelsey gave Skye a thumbs up and closed her eyes.

Skye ran a hand through her grimy hair. She couldn’t imagine sleeping right now but needed to move to the floor too. Any kind of rest would be helpful.

Who knew what tomorrow would hold?

Skye stretched onto her side with her back against the wall. She kept one eye on Kelsey to make sure she was truly out of harm’s way and the other on the Sick.

The horde lumbered around their cell. Now that the women were still, they didn’t attract as much attention, but even a small move from them brought the Sick closer to them.

These people were deep into the disease and almost senseless. Because of that, they didn’t crouch to the floor, but stayed standing when they thrust their hands through the bars.

Skye uttered a deep sigh of relief. Other than breathing the same air as the horde, they were safe. And she wasn’t afraid of the germs, she’d already had the disease and been one of the fortunate few to live through it. No, what scared her the most was the Sick’s long, blue grasping fingers finding her.

Despite Skye’s fears, her eyes grew heavy, and she slept.

Skye jerked awake. Nothing seemed to have changed. Without moving, she scanned the room.

Something had nudged her from sleep.

A light tune carried down the hallway. Whistling.

She pushed herself to her feet, avoiding the newly stirred horde.

Kelsey sat up and pushed her long, dark hair back over her shoulder.

The tromp of boots announced several men and one brawny woman.

Kevin led the group. He rattled some keys and opened the prison door, waving them out.

Two men in white coats approached them. One spoke. “We are going to take your temperature and some blood.”

Skye shot a glance at the big men. If she caused any trouble, there was no doubt how this would go.

So she agreed and glanced at Kelsey.

This was the moment of truth. Well, this and whatever came after.

Everything Skye knew about the Agflu she could count on one hand, and even that was a bunch of guesses. If they passed this test—and the next one—they were truly immune.

Once the white coats took what they needed, they nodded to the guards.

Security marched Skye and Kelsey several yards down the hallway and shoved them into a couple of stadium chairs lining the wall.

They sat there for a few minutes, staring at nothing, before one of the white coats popped his head around a door and gave a thumbs up.

Skye shot a worried glance at Kevin.

Thumbs up, they passed? Or thumbs up, take them out and shoot them?

Kevin smiled. “Well, good news. You just earned yourself a shower and a meal.”

Skye and Kelsey sagged with relief.

Kelsey grabbed Skye’s hand and squeezed it.

“A shower sounds good, doesn’t it?” Kelsey asked.

Skye agreed. The mere mention of the word made her realize how grimy she was. And a toilet was becoming an urgent need too.

Kevin waved them further down the hallway and through a bathroom door.

Skye began a sprint toward a stall until an enormous hand grabbed her arm. She glanced from the massive guard who held her in place to Kevin. “Look, I have to go, I really, really have to.”

Kevin waved the guard’s hand away, but said, “I’m sending Sydney in.” He pointed to a tall, muscular female dressed in a guard’s uniform, then back at the male guard. “This one will be inside the door, but he will give you your privacy.”

Skye quickly nodded, not sure she cared anymore as her need grew.

Kevin gave the go-ahead.

She ran to the first stall. Kelsey wasn’t far behind.

As Skye exited the stall, she eyed Sydney, who watched Skye washing her hands.

The male guard remained in the room but faced the hallway.

Once the women washed their hands, Sydney pointed at a blue sign that said, “Showers” at the end of the row of sinks. A matching arrow pointed through a door with a small square window.

They pushed through the door and found three showers with thin, clear shower curtains.

Skye winced. Well, it was better than nothing.

Sydney had trailed them into the room and now pointed out two small piles of green medical scrubs and two pairs of white boat shoes sitting on a bench. “There’s one for each of you. Shampoo and soap in the showers. Good kinds too. We treat our Immune well—there are so few of you. In fact, if you pass the next test, you’ll get a shower every day.”

Surprised, Skye stared at Sydney. “Aren’t all of you immune?”

The woman shook her head. “No. Most have just stayed away from any Infected or Sick.”

When Skye asked another question, the male guard appeared and said, “Get in there. You have limited time.”

Once the male guard turned his back, Skye and Kelsey showered.

Skye threw her smelly clothes on the floor outside, happy to be rid of them, and sighed as the warm water smoothed over her, taking the filth away.

What? Warm? They had enough energy for that?

Skye picked up a shampoo bottle and raised an eyebrow. They certainly did use the best. Though there probably wasn’t a run on this at the local salon anymore.

She hurried but shampooed her hair twice before it seemed clean. Just as she reached for the knob to turn the shower off, the water stopped.

The male guard had told the truth. There was a time limit. Good to know.

Skye wrapped a towel around herself and moved toward the bench.

The male guard still faced the opposite way.

Sydney averted her eyes.

Skye was grateful for what privacy they allowed. She scanned the room and sent a pointed look to Kelsey as she exited the shower.

The girl shrugged.

Neither had found a single solid unattached item they could use as a weapon.

Skye glanced back at the only two items she’d found in the stall—her washcloth and a mini-shampoo bottle.

MacGyver might be able to do something with those—she sure couldn’t.

Skye and Kelsey turned toward the guards and followed them out into the hallway.

Kevin continued to lead them down the same corridor.

This hallway seemed like an assembly line, and they were the product. The further down the line she and Kelsey moved, the safer they were—at least, she hoped that was the case.

The guards ushered them into a normal exam room—though it was larger than she was used to. Besides the regular equipment, there were small medical machines lined up on a long countertop that stretched along one wall.

A man with messy brown hair wearing a white lab coat walked toward them. He held two vials in his hand.

She didn’t have to imagine what they were. Kevin had already told her. Skye shuddered.

Her gaze darted to the door. Two guards stood there, closing off the exit. Two other men and Kevin stood near the exam table, and Sydney waited in the hallway.

Skye turned back to the man in the white lab coat. “Is this—”

Kevin stepped forward. “Don’t talk to him. This is hard enough for him as it is.”

“Hard enough for him! We’re the ones who—”

Kevin gestured, and one guard thrust a taser toward Skye.

She jumped away, and it narrowly missed her.

“One more word,” Kevin said curtly, “and he will use that.”

Skye took another small step away from them and said nothing.

The White Coat waved her to the table.

She climbed up, her jaw clenched.

As he prepped Skye’s arm for the injection, she trembled so hard she wondered how he would find a vein.

But then, maybe he didn’t need a vein.

Kelsey moved to her side and grabbed her hand. “Hey, at least we’ll die clean.”

Skye couldn’t help the small chuckle even as her heart fell. She threw a pleading glance at Kevin, but he stood as if made of stone.

She turned to Kelsey, “If I don’t make it, tell everyone I—I—”

“It’s okay, Skye. I will. But you’ll be fine.” The girl gave her a wobbly smile. “I know it.”

The White Coat laid the hard needle against Skye’s skin.

She instinctively jerked back.

One of the muscular guards moved to stand close behind her.

Skye leaned away as his hot breath washed over her only to have him wrap a beefy arm around her shoulders and yank her back tighter against him.

Another guard took her arm, holding it from the shoulder to wrist and pulling until Skye groaned in protest.

The needle was back. Cool against her skin.

Skye glanced up at the White Coat.

Uncomfortable with his job, he gritted his teeth as he plunged the needle into her. Skye gasped in pain.

It sunk deep—slamming against her—coming to a stop only when the hub hit her arm.

The fluid burned as if a river of fire entered her body. Skye tried to hold back a sob but failed.

The injection felt like the deadly contagion it was.

The white coat jerked the needle from Skye’s arm and sped away to get the second injection ready. Blood trailed down her arm.

Who put someone so bad at injections in this job?

Kevin stepped closer, wiped the blood away, and bandaged her.

Skye hugged her arm to herself when he finished.

“You need to stop fighting, Skye,” he said. “It’s just a waste of energy, and we don’t put up with trouble.”

Skye scrubbed some wayward tears off her face and hopped off the table.

Kelsey’s face paled, but she obediently climbed onto the table when instructed.

Kevin put on latex gloves and took the syringe from the technician. He pulled Kelsey’s unresisting arm forward and gave the girl a look of approval. “Good girl,” he told her.

Kelsey closed her eyes and took the hand Skye offered, squeezing it tight.

Like an expert, Kevin slid the needle into Kelsey’s arm and pushed the plunger. “This will burn for a bit, but it will be over soon.”

Kelsey grunted as tears ran down her cheeks. She hissed as the burn moved through her.

Kevin stood back. “Okay, the worst is over. Now we wait twenty-four to forty-eight hours. I’ll show you to your new room.”

They went out to the hallway and turned left, continuing down the same hallway.

Another few yards, another few rooms.

Nineteen

Fighters

Kevin stopped at a door, opened it, and threw out his arm. “Big upgrade from last night, uh?”

Skye barely controlled her eye roll. Did he want a thank you? Better think again, buddy.

Still, she scanned the room with relief. Two twin beds, a bedside table with a light, a few old magazines, and what seemed to be their own bathroom through a half-closed door.

And no Sick for next-door neighbors.

It was Kelsey who was the polite one. “Thank you, Kevin. It’s so nice and clean.”

Kevin nodded his head, soaking in the praise like it was due him. When he glanced at Skye, she hurried to give him half a smile.

She was labeled a troublemaker, and it only made them more suspicious of her. She needed to become a better actor.

Skye pushed on one of the mattresses. “Seems comfy.”

Satisfied, Kevin turned to the door. “I’m going to bring you ladies something to eat.”

Skye put a hand to her growling stomach. Now that was something she could look forward to.

Kevin and his gang turned and left, shutting the door behind them. It was not a surprise when Skye heard the lock engage.

Skye and Kelsey exchanged a glance as they listened to the guard’s shoes slap against the hallway floor.

When they were gone, Skye spoke but kept her voice quiet in case a guard was still stood near.

“Oh Kelsey, we keep getting deeper into this complex.”

“Yes, well. I’m sure that’s on purpose.”

“If we can get out of this room, I know the way out of this building. But with all the guards, their weapons . . . “

Kelsey shook her head. “There isn’t a way—not yet. We just have to do what they want until they trust us and give us a chance to bolt.”

“I agree.” Skye rubbed a hand over her face. “But I’m not sure how much time we have or what they will do to us next.”

Kelsey grabbed Skye’s other hand. “We have to do what they say. It’s the only way out, Skye. It’s what worked in Fenton.”

Skye gave the girl a sharp glance. “What do you mean?”

Kelsey sat on the twin bed across from Skye. “That group in Fenton—they caught me once, you know that.” The girl’s gaze stayed glued to the floor. This was a subject that the girl always avoided in therapy.

Skye listened as Kelsey continued.

“I fought them at first, but I learned real quick. You take it until they trust you enough that you can get away.”

The girl shuddered. She glanced at Skye from under her lashes, her face red. “At least, they want something different from us here.”

“Oh, Kelsey,” Skye said around the lump in her throat. She moved closer and gently put her arms around her. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

Skye ached to take away all of Kelsey’s trauma—as if it never happened.

Kelsey’s voice was a low murmur. “Me too.”

Skye comforted the girl as well as she could.

Kelsey was brave—a fighter. There was no doubt about that.

A rapid knock on the door startled them.

Kevin threw the door open.

“Here you go, girls. We don’t get fancy anymore, but it is food.”

Skye grit her teeth. She rarely minded being called a girl. Her mother had often referred to her dad and his friends as boys. So it was all the same to her. But the way Kevin drew out the word, he used it to demean them—put them in their place.

She didn’t like that.

Skye’s stomach rumbled, taking her mind off Kevin. She glanced at the tray a guard sat on the bed in front of her. Peanut butter and jelly, a few potato chips, and a little can of juice.

It looked delicious.

Kevin returned to the door. “You have a good night. And don’t worry, overmuch. I have a good feeling about you girls. You’re gonna make it.”

He gave them a wide smile that faded away.

Kelsey tentatively raised her hand. “Can I ask about the man and woman who came in at the same time as us?”

“Oh, yeah. Sadly, they didn’t make it through the night—got sick. We added them to the pit.”

Kelsey ducked her head.

Skye wasn’t sure what the pit was. Perhaps the other side of that jail cell—the side with the Sick?

She put a hand over her mouth.

Kevin shrugged. “Here there is a place for everything and everyone. It’s very ship-shape. If you don’t fit in one area—well, you’ll fit in another.”

Once Kevin left, the food didn’t look as appealing anymore.

The next two days were little more than sleeping and eating—always in that small room. Their recreation comprised taking and retaking magazine quizzes. Their favorite was Which Celebrity are You? They made up pandemic stories for the celebs.

On the third morning—as usual—the morning alarm sounded. A blare, similar to an air horn. It startled Skye and Kelsey from their deep sleep.

Skye rolled over in bed, wishing to leave this room and yet afraid of what would happen when Kevin finally came for them.

She stood and rushed over to Kelsey, feeling her forehead. “Any headaches, sniffles, anything?”

“No. You?”

“No. Only a few hours more to go, according to Kevin. I think we’ve made it, but I still don’t like to think of the Sick’s goo oozing around my system.”

Kelsey shuddered. “Ew, Skye, don’t say that.”

“Sorry, kiddo.” She patted Kelsey on the shoulder. “Well, maybe we’ll get out of here now.”

Kevin trooped in with their breakfast—pancakes, scrambled eggs that looked like they were from a powder, and juice.

Each day they survived, they received better meals, and yesterday, they had even asked Skye and Kelsey what sizes they wore.

Kevin smiled as he laid a tray on the bed in front of Skye. “I have a surprise for you both. I brought some jeans and t-shirts for you. And some socks and shoes! I thought it might be nice for you to dress normally again.”

“Yes, thank you, Kevin, that is considerate of you,” Skye said.

Kevin beamed.

She congratulated herself. Her acting skills were coming along well. To thank him without choking on it was a vast improvement. But it wasn’t easy. She’d spent her career seeking the truth behind her clients’ troubles. Now she had to ignore Kevin’s blatant personality problems just to live through the day.

Kevin waved in Sydney.

“It will be Sydney’s honor to assist you. Anything else you need—you ask her. She will be with you the most from here on out.”

Sydney smiled, laid two piles of clothing on the bed and smoothed the tops of them. “I helped pick them out,” she said, pride in her voice. “I tried to get something comfortable for you both.”

“Thank you. We appreciate it,” Kelsey said.

Skye ran her hand over the clothes. A t-shirt, the super-soft kind, and blue jeans. “Thank you.”

Sydney nodded and stepped back.

Kevin cleared his throat. “So, girls, this is a great day! One more blood test, just to be absolutely sure, and then you can go to your permanent rooms. And you will have the honor of meeting the founder of this place. He doesn’t do this for just anyone—he is busy—working to help all humankind. Well, remaining humankind, that is.”

Skye glanced from Kevin to Sydney.

They were fawning over her and Kelsey, literally fawning. Just how few people made it through these tests?

Twenty

The Meeting

After Skye and Kelsey changed into their new clothing, Kevin ushered them out of their bedroom and down the hallway once again.

This time they marched all the way to the dead end.

Skye gulped, looked left, then right, and shot a glance at Kevin.

He chose left and moved toward a door on the right, opening it with a flourish.

Kelsey sent Skye a fear-filled glance but held her head high.

Skye returned what she hoped was a comforting smile as she ignored her own misgivings. When Kevin urged her to enter the room, she hurried to step in. After giving it a quick scan, she sighed in relief.

Similar to one in a hotel and twice as big as the one assigned them the last two nights, this room held a queen-sized bed with a blue bedspread on one side of the room. A large desk and chair sat on the opposite side near the footboard. A big, over-stuffed lounger was in the far corner.

Bolted to the wall was a large-screen TV. DVDs and books lined the shelving unit below it.

Nothing scary, so far, other than this meant they would be here a while.

Kevin walked to the other side of the room and pulled back long, cream-colored vertical blinds to reveal an entire wall of floor to ceiling windows.

The vast, rolling ocean filled the glass. A decent-sized piece of blond beach was on the right side of the picture window with a parking lot on the other side of the sand.

Fascinated by the amazing view, Skye took a few steps forward and watched a new wave surge toward the beach. When no one stopped her, she waved Kelsey over as she moved to stand closer to the glass.

It seemed like it was just them and the limitless blue water.

The two women watched as the powerful wave slowly built up, only to tumble onto land and thin out as it rode the sand as far as possible. It was the most gorgeous thing Skye had seen since leaving the mountains.

Three stories up, only the glass kept Skye from tasting the salty air from the moody, blue-grey water.

In the distance, a massive red rock wall towered over the blond beach, easily withstanding the waves crashing against its side.

The two side by side seemed out of place—as if someone had picked up the rock formation from Bryce Canyon and dropped it on the Carolina beach.

The oddness rang a bell. She’d heard of this place. Spire Cliff.

She knew exactly where they were.

Skye pulled Kelsey close, hugging her.

“Yes, it is beautiful, isn’t it?” Kevin said.

Skye beamed, letting Kevin think her joy was simply over the view. “It is.”

She reached for the slider door, but it didn’t budge.

Kevin shook his head. “They’re locked for now. We’ll see how you do.” He turned back to the hallway door. “One of you gets this room and one the next room. Don’t worry. It is just as nice.”

Skye’s smile faded. “We’d rather stay together.”

“I understand that. But for this phase, it’s important that you have no contact. We need to know what is working and what is not.”

Skye and Kelsey clenched each other tighter.

“Don’t worry, Mommy,” Kevin said as he took Kelsey’s arm. “She’ll be fine.”

The girl gave Skye a long, sad look but released her.

Skye closed her eyes and sighed.

There was nothing to do about it right now. Their choices were to cooperate or fight—and there was no way to take on the muscle who had trailed them to this room.

Skye stared at the four goons. Kevin expected trouble.

Skye put a hand on each of Kelsey’s shoulders and gave her a long look.

“It’ll be okay,” she whispered and hoped it was true.

Her heart tugged as she leaned in to kiss the top of the girl’s head.

Kelsey’s eyes flooded with tears, but she nodded. “I know.” Her chin wobbled.

As Kevin led Skye out of the room, she said, “I want to see her every day. Even if it is from a distance.”

Kevin scratched his chin. “I’ll have to get permission for that, but he might allow it.”

“Thank you.” It went against Skye’s every grain to show any appreciation to her captor, but she would do anything to stay in touch with Kelsey.

Her eyes settled on a tablet of paper sitting on the desk. “And please ask if we can write to each other.”

“Sure.”

Skye’s stomach dropped as she walked away, brushing tears away.

Her gaze swept the group, landing on Sydney. She sent her a pleading glance.

The woman’s hard face softened. “I’ll make sure she has the best care possible. I promise.”

Skye would need to be satisfied with that.

She glanced back, giving Kelsey one last look.

The girl looked small in the enormous room. She wrapped her arms around herself as she stared back at Skye—her eyes round and too large for her face.

The door between them shut, blocking Skye’s view.

Kevin took Skye to the next room—a copy of Kelsey’s. After opening the blinds in this room, Kevin lingered at the door. “Our founder would like to meet you.”

“And Kelsey?”

“Of course—but you first.”

“Okay.”

Skye ran a hand over her hair, wanting to make as good an impression as possible. It was vital for this founder to see her and Kelsey as fellow human beings and not just test subjects. She looked in the mirror and squared her shoulders before following Kevin back across the hall they had come down and to a door further down on the right.

Without a word, he motioned her in.

The room seemed dark against the daylight cascading in from the floor to ceiling windows that were a copy of those she had in her room, especially since the lights were off.

Against the panorama of the ocean stood a silhouetted figure.

A man—lost in thought.

Skye and Kevin stood for a moment waiting for recognition until Kevin uttered an awkward cough.

The shadowed man dropped his hands and sighed. He clicked on the lights.

Skye blinked against their brilliance and scanned the room.

The office was pristine, orderly to the point of perfection. Skye was almost afraid to breathe for fear of messing something up.

Every item was so precisely laid out, she wondered if he used a tape measure. From the pictures on the wall to the pens, stapler, and office accessories lining the desk like little soldiers.

Everything was either black or white and so starkly done, it set one’s teeth on edge.

This was the room of a troubled person. A person who looking for order in life and not finding it there demanded it here where he could control it. That did not bode well for the rest of this facility or for her and Kelsey.

Since it is impossible for the world to exist at the high level of perfection a person like this demanded, this room was most likely the only place this man found rest—relief.

No wonder he had sighed. Their presence broke his respite.

Skye studied the man as he walked toward them. Not a wrinkle marred his dress shirt and tie, or the blindingly white coat he wore over it.

He smoothed a hand over his dark hair.

Of course, he did.

He would refuse to have a single strand out of place.

Did he insist on the same high level of perfection in others?

Silly question.

Undoubtedly.

Skye imagined the rage this man had over what he perceived as other’s shortcomings. He would release those dark emotions in some way.

She shuddered to think what it might be.

His dark eyes seemed haunted and sad—but there was also a hard edge to them.

He moved with a confidence that said his way was the only right way, and it would be impossible to convince him of anything else.

The founder stopped and clapped his hand behind his back, tilting his head at her rather than give Skye a handshake.

“Hello. My name is Devon. Doctor Devon Shade.”

Twenty-One

The Story of My Life

Although Skye believed most people were good, despite any personality flaws they needed to work through, she instantly disliked this man.

Some perfectly healthy people were quite neat and enjoyed stark decorating. But that along with Devon’s insane need to find a cure for a disease that had already run rampant through the world as well as his willingness to hurt people while he was doing it, told her much about him. Her last few days under his roof had shown her the extent he would go.

This man was not healthy. He was not even remotely normal.

Still, she needed to treat him as though he was healthy—as though there were no any evil intentions toward her or anyone else.

It would be her biggest acting job yet.

“Skye Jackson,” she introduced herself. “But I suppose you already know that.”

“I do. I have read the reports about you and your companion—interesting cases. I look forward to working with you.”

Skye tried to tame the shudder attempting to overtake her as Devon looked her over. “You two are special. Few patients make it to this phase of the testing. Things . . . happen.”

Skye pulled in a slow breath, keeping its raggedy edges at bay. He made evil sound like an everyday occurrence.

And in this place, it just might be.

“What exactly are you doing here?” she asked.

“Why, trying to find a cure.” Devon gave her an incredulous stare. “No one explained that?”

“Yes. But why are you so sure you’ll be able to accomplish what no one else has done? What are your credentials?”

“Oh, I see.” He gave a little chuckle. “Don’t worry, I have all the schooling and, more important than that, the hands-on experience with this virus. I am intimately familiar with its every twist and turn. If I could only tell you . . . perhaps one day I will.”

Skye’s stomach tightened. She wouldn’t be here long enough for an explanation. Hopefully.

She stared at him, trying for a little intimidation of her own. “I’m a doctor myself, so if you would explain, I would appreciate it.”

“A doctor of?” Devon arched an eyebrow. “Anything that can be of use to me here?”

Skye barked out a sharp laugh. Definitely something that could be of use.

“I’m a psychologist.”

“Interesting.” Devon looked at the floor. “I would like someone to talk to. I haven’t been the same since the death of my wife.”

He turned his back to her and faced the wall of ocean. “It was all their fault.”

“Who’s fault?”

Devon turned back toward Skye. “You won’t understand if I only tell you. Seeing it though, then you must believe.”

What was he talking about? Perhaps the man was more irrational than he’d already let on.

“So, Dr. Skye, can we set up some sessions?”

Skye almost cringed. The last thing she wanted to do was spend more time with her captor—the man behind the torture of countless people. But if this helped their situation, she’d do it.

Skye glanced at Devon. Her hesitation had already put a sharper edge to his stare.

Did she have a choice then? Maybe this would help gain his trust—or someone’s. Trust could lead to fewer restrictions—and eventually—escape.

“Of course, whenever you like.” Skye forced a tight smile.

Devon ran his hands over the lapels of his white coat. “I have some work I need to get to right now. Perhaps you would like to rest awhile, and we will meet again later.”

“Sounds fine.” Skye tightened her icy fingers into fists.

She waited for her dismissal. When the scientist remained quiet, she took control and tipped her head, then headed for the door.

She’d take what little power was given her.

Skye spent the next two hours picking through, and discarding, the pile of mostly bodice-ripper novels before moving on to the more interesting movies. But this was too dire of a situation for such mundane entertainment to hold her interest.

Eventually, Kevin knocked on her door and again led her down the hallway to Devon’s lair. When he tapped on the boss’ door, Devon’s muffled voice called for them to enter.

Surprised, Skye found Devon’s gloomy attitude from this morning had changed into a downright cheerful one. She hoped it had nothing to do with the droplets of blood staining the front of his white coat.

“Hello!” he said to Skye as he passed the dirty jacket to Kevin and ordered him to take it to the laundry.

Devon’s henchman bunched the jacket up, covering the large red spot, but Skye couldn’t pull her eyes away from the cloth.

Would her blood, or Kelsey’s, soak this crazy man’s clothing one day?

As Kevin handed the garment off to a guard, Devon clapped his hands as if to get her attention. “Okay then, how should we do this? Do I lay on the couch or sit?”

Skye turned her attention to him and reminded herself that this needed to go well. Whatever the man needed to discuss or confess, she needed to handle it.

“Whatever makes you more comfortable is fine,” she said as she pasted on a pleasant expression.

Devon looked from the chair to the couch. “I feel as if I need to do this the proper way. The couch it is.”

He motioned for most of the guards to go to the hallway but told Kevin and Sydney to stand on the other side of the room.

Devon dragged a chair closer to the couch while darting looks at Kevin and Sydney. When he was satisfied, he invited Skye to sit.

He laid on the couch, changing positions a few times until he seemed comfortable.

“So, Doc,” he said, “does talking about people’s darker moments help them?”

“Most people have told me it helps them learn more about themselves and work through problems. I will warn you—it can be work, hard work. Some were not happy with what they found and made the needed changes, and in the end considered it well worth the effort.”

“Of course, of course. So where should I start?”

“Wherever you would like. This is your time. What do you want to talk about?”

“A story. The story—the story of my life.” Devon glanced at Skye. “I believe the best place to start is the day I became a different person. The day of my parent’s murder. An Atlantian attacked them, crushed them, as I watched.”

Skye froze. She had tried to prepare herself for anything, but mostly for gruesome details of his work.

But Atlantians? No, she had not prepared herself for that.

So, okay, more than a little crazy then.

She forced her pleasant expression to hold. It would do no good to lose his trust at the very beginning.

Devon stared at her, waiting for a reaction.

Skye raised an eyebrow.

Certainly, he didn’t expect her to accept such an outrageous claim. He was sane enough to know the statement was strange.

Devon laughed but seemed satisfied with her response.

As he continued, Skye glanced at Kevin and Sydney. Both seemed unfazed. Clearly, this wasn’t the first time they’d heard these crazed memories.

Skye turned her attention back to Devon and the tale he told. To some extent, they made sense.

An attacker may seem superhuman to a child watching his parent’s murder, but Devon should have grown out of that idea. To maintain these underwater people exist at this stage in his life was far beyond the norm.

Devon’s twisted story continued. He claimed he was groomed by fellow humans to hunt the Atlantians, trained to conduct gruesome medical experiments on them, and gleefully murdered the underwater people all in the name of helping humankind.

Skye had trouble holding her nausea.

No doubt these “Atlantians” were human victims. If what he said was true—and from what she’d seen—Devon was more than a serial killer. He was a mass murderer.

Skye paled and sat a little straighter, willing her stomach to settle.

Eventually, Devon sat up and ran his hands over his face. He looked at Skye as he gave his final confession. “It was my fault. I created this disease to destroy those abominations. And it turned against us. Instead, I infected—I killed—all of my beloved humankind.”

Devon broke down, sobbing. “Now I’m determined to find the cure, no matter the cost.”

Skye gripped the armrests of the chair. This man—this monster—created the disease that killed almost everyone on earth?

Her mind flew from the loved ones she had lost—her mother, father, the rest of her family—to every gruesome death she had seen, and the poor restless souls who still wandered through deserted towns and wasted lands, sick and confused.

This man had done that. Unable to hold it in any longer, Skye raced to a garbage can sitting beside a desk and vomited.

As Skye wiped her mouth with a tissue she took from Devon’s desk, she realized how silent the room had become.

Of course, this man would find this reaction to his confession a personal affront. On some level, he thought he was a hero fighting to save all humankind.

Skye glanced at Devon. His expression hardened.

Her mind swirled with excuses he might accept until she latched onto one.. “I’m so sorry. How-how horrible this must be for you. What you have been through!”

Devon eyed Skye, then the garbage can she held. He motioned for Kevin to take it out of the room.

Everyone was silent as Kevin did as instructed.

Devon heaved a sigh. “It has been hard. I’ve had a difficult life, and I appreciate your intense appreciation over my hardships. I can tell you truly understand.”

Skye nodded, hoping there would be no lingering aftereffects causing her to need the trash can again.

Devon pointed to a door on his right. “There’s a bathroom through there if you should need it.”

“Thank you. But you’ve worked hard today. Perhaps we should take this up tomorrow.”

Devon nodded. “I agree.”

Skye said her goodbyes, trying not to appear too rushed. Her mind whirled as she walked back to her room, a hand on her still upset stomach.

When Skye and the guards reached her room, she reached for the door handle eager to get away from them so she could release her genuine feelings about the mad scientist.

Her hand grazed the handle when Sydney spoke.

“You’re lucky. The Doc told you about the Atlantians already. He normally works up to that.”

Skye glanced at her. Did Sydney also accept the superhuman beings as real?

“I saw a newspaper article about the Atlantians early on but figured it was all fake news,” Skye replied.

“Well, I expect now that Doc has told you, you’ll get to see one.”

Skye shot a glance at Sydney. “Have you seen one?”

“I’m still waiting, but Kevin has. He says they’re just as huge as Doc says. Strong, too. They have to be sedated at all times to handle them.”

Skye dropped her gaze to the floor. If Devon had true converts, the situation would be even more dangerous than she’d expected.

As for the so-called Atlantian, whoever was at the non-existent mercy of Dr. Devon Shade, her heart went out to them.

Twenty-Two

Day One

That night as Skye fell asleep, her mind drifted away from the evil and to Dylan.

She imagined him tall and strong, even though the infection had still raged the last time she’d seen him. She had to believe that Jesse made it home with the medication and Dylan had healed. Because to think anything else would be unacceptable.

She snuggled further under the covers as she imagined his muscular arms wrapped around her, soothing her as he had so many times before. Skye hugged a pillow to herself, trying to ignore the tears that coursed down her cheeks.

She daydreamed of the future they were making—the mountain, their cabin, and the warm sunlight waking her and Dylan each morning in their hand-carved four-poster bed.

Each memory was bittersweet. To remember now, in this place, made any dream seem unattainable.

A sob escaped Skye. She needed Dylan. Her soul seemed empty. How she yearned to hold him to her—his solid body strong and sturdy again.

Would he find her?

He was an excellent tracker but tracking hundreds of miles away seemed beyond even his considerable skills.

But if anyone would be able to, it would be him.

Dylan, her love.

But she wouldn’t just wait for him to appear. She and Kelsey would be on alert for any opportunity to escape. Then she would make her way back to his arms and stay there.

The next morning Skye stood in front of the large window, watching the lazy tide push onto the shore when a knock sounded.

Before she crossed the room to answer it, the door sprang open and Kevin strolled in. He gave her a tight nod. “Doctor Shade needs you in the lab.”

Skye’s heart stopped. “The lab?”

“Yes. They have moved your schedule up.”

A million horrible scenes flashed through her mind.

Skye glanced at Kevin. The man knew what would happen. How many other victims had he led to that evil place?

Instinctively, Skye stepped away from him.

He grabbed her arm in an iron grip and pulled her toward the hallway.

Skye tried to yank her arm away, but Kevin tightened his grip.

“I want to see Kelsey before I go!” she said.

“Do you really want her to see you like this? You look all freaked out.”

“I am freaked out.”

“It’ll be fine. Nothing big ever happens on the first day.”

Was he just saying this to make his job easier?

She pressed her lips together. Could she believe him?

Skye had little choice as Kevin pulled her along. He led her in a different direction this time—through a maze of corridors before they reached a different lab.

Once they arrived, he quickly left, almost turning on his heel to make his escape.

Skye stood where Kevin left her, watching as he waved two guards over and stationed them at the door. Then she let her gaze drift around the room as she shifted her feet against the tile floor.

This lab seemed exactly as the first one she visited in except for three things. To her left sat an enormous desk holding a small stack of papers. And across from her stretched another long white countertop with a larger array of small medical machines than the other room.

Beyond that were the cages.

Along the wall beside her, under the row of windows, stood barred enclosures. Small to large, plastic and metal barred, at least twenty of them.

Her gaze halted on the largest one—large enough to hold a man.

A finger of ice ran down Skye’s spine. Evil slithered through the room.

She took a nervous step to one side and bumped into the most disturbing item of the room.

The deafening clatter of metal on metal startled her, and she jumped away.

The steel table looked more like something used in a morgue than in any regular doctor’s office.

She prayed it wasn’t still in use, but she knew better. The shackles attached to the table with a bulky chain left no doubt unwilling victims had laid here.

Skye whirled at the tap of leather-soled shoes.

That would be him. Her stomach lurched.

Her gaze lingered on the metal table even though she begged her eyes to move on. If this was the “nothing big” Kevin promised, what was in store for her later?

Devon entered the room and stopped. He gave Skye a tight smile and an odd look.

Skye put a hand to what she was sure was a pale face after the fear rushing through her.

Devon put the chart he held onto the desk and rushed over to her. “Oh my dear, you do seem to be in a fit. Here hop up on the table before you fall over.”

“Please,” Skye muttered, a wave of dizziness coming over her. “Please, don’t make me get on that table.”

Devon put an arm around her and hurried her to a chair behind the desk. He crouched down, looking her in the eye. “Here you go then. Better?” He chuckled. “You are a sensitive one, aren’t you?”

Skye closed her eyes and put her hands to her face. “What are you going to do to me?”

“Oh, Skye,” he said as he patted her arm. “This room isn’t for you. I wanted to show you where I have done some of my best work. I’m sorry if it frightened you.”

Skye continued to draw in several deep breaths until her head stopped swimming.

As soon as Skye felt herself return to something resembling normal, she straightened.

Devon started talking, and she let him rattle on, but tried to ignore most of what came out of his mouth. It wouldn’t take much right now for her to end up on the floor in a faint.

Eventually though, she tuned in.

Devon ran on about DNA experiments and the similarity and differences between the two races, Human and Atlantian. But he definitely didn’t consider Atlantians simply another race of people.

The man abhorred them on a level Skye had rarely seen. To the point where once he’d identified them as Atlantians, he then used the term abominations.

As much as Devon hated them, the Atlantians also fascinated him. He bragged about their build, their strength, and their mannerisms until Skye doubted her own certainty the people did not exist.

Devon pointed to the metal table. “I’ve had them strapped and chained to that very table and only kept them still by drugging them out of their mind. They are strong, so strong. Their organs are larger than ours and are more efficient. They breathe far less often than we do. That is how they survive underwater.”

Devon pointed to the large cage at the end of the room. “I kept them there.”

At the sorrowful drop of Skye’s face, he said, “I know, but I had too. Drugged and confined in spaces too small for them was the only way to keep them docile. Don’t underestimate them, Skye. Never do that. If you do, it will be the end of you. They will make sure of it.”

Devon waited for a response.

All Skye could manage was a nod.

“I wish I could show you more, but the time is not right. However, I have this chart.” He grabbed the papers off of the desk and shoved them into her hands.

Skye’s stomach tightened. Listening to Devon’s tirade had been enough—now he expected her to read it blow by blow?

She glanced up at him. His hard expression told her she wouldn’t be able to talk her way out of this.

She flipped open the folder.

On top was a picture of a man lying on the table that stood in front of her. It was clear he was either unconscious or near to it.

The drugged man was in fantastic shape, muscular and toned to the point he almost appeared sculptured. His feet hung over the end of the table. So he was very tall—maybe as tall as some of the larger basketball players—but not tall enough for people to gasp in amazement and pronounce him nonhuman.

Devon punched the picture with his index finger. “That was the last one before this all started. He called himself Ian.”

Devon fairly spit the word as if it was an insult the man had so human a name.

“This abomination wasn’t as big as some others, but he was enlightening.” Devon turned to the next image.

Ian sat, curled against the bars of the cage, and turned away from the camera.

Skye swallowed her sympathy. Devon would judge her harshly for it.

“See here?” Devon pointed to Ian’s back. “They all have these tattoos. They embed the decoration into the skin at birth, and it grows along with them.”

Skye examined the picture. The mark shimmered in the light and seemed a language, though not any she had ever seen. “What does it say?”

“It is the names of both his father’s and his mother’s house. It’s his lineage.”

“How do they get that shimmer to it? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“They have . . . ,” Devon’s mouth twisted, “different technology than we do. The abominations say it doesn’t hurt the children when they are tattooed, and it doesn’t warp as they grow.”

“Interesting.” If the situation would have been different, Skye would have chuckled over how hard it was for Devon to admit these people had more advanced technology than humans.

“That barely scratches the surface.” Devon turned the page again.

Page after page, picture after picture, until Skye felt the bile again rise in her mouth. So much cutting, so much blood, so much invasion.

Despite her fear of this man, Skye slammed the file closed as Devon was in mid-sentence.

Skye put a hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m not that sort of doctor. It’s too much for me.”

“Oh yes, of course, dear. You are a doctor of the mind and spirit. Well, I’m sure you would have found something interesting there too. It might make you feel better to know he lived through all this. It was the virus that killed him.”

Skye pushed the chart toward him, not believing his claim. “How could he live through this?”

“I told you, the abominations are resilient. But the virus killed them all, I’m sure of it. And that one took it home to the rest of his nest. Just like a poisoned ant.”

He chuckled. “At least I know my work amounted to something. They are gone. All gone.”

Devon’s eyes lit. “Except one, I still have one here. But we’ve spent enough time on them today. We need to get to you.”

Devon rose and turned to the door leading to the hallway. “Come along now.”

Skye’s heart thundered. Her hand tightened around the Atlantian’s folder of horror.

What did he have planned for her?

She tried to stand, but her legs gave way. She swallowed a sob that tried to escape.

Devon glanced back at her and frowned. “Come along.”

Skye put her hands to the desk and shoved herself up. “I ask again, what are you going to do with me?”

Devon’s eyebrow rose. “Today? Just get a general idea of your health. Nothing more painful than a blood draw. I promise you.”

Did she dare believe him? He could be lying through his teeth, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

Skye followed, surprised the numbness spreading through her body allowed her to do so.

Once again, she was at this evil man’s mercy.

Twenty-Three

Something More

Devon glanced back at Skye as they walked down the hallway.

She was a little unsteady but managed on her own.

She was a tough one, strong. Most of the women he tested became puddles of tears by this point, and they hadn’t seen the chart of experiments Skye had.

Skye stumbled. A guard reached out and grabbed her arm to steady her. Once she got her feet under her, she pushed him away.

Devon smiled. Good—that was good.

She would need that determination. It would help her through the days ahead.

Devon liked these two women. They reminded him of his nieces, both of whom he believed dead.

His heart grew heavy. Even though his family had turned on him, he still mourned them.

They hadn’t understood—that was all—weren’t capable of it. How could they? Most people didn’t have the intellect to understand the need for the experiments even before the AgFlu.

Had he used his family? Yes, but the years he’d watched them while feeding that information to his higher-ups had been hard on him. He didn’t like using people who he cared about.

Devon shot Skye another glance. He also didn’t like using people who interested him, and this woman was interesting.

But the testing was more necessary than ever now. It was only by finding those truly immune could he ever hope to create a real cure. Then everyone would realize he was right all along.

Devon’s mind drifted to his earlier meeting with Kelsey. She had seemed extraordinary in her own way.

It had been clear she was nervous. Her hands clenched the arms of her chair during their entire conversation.

He’d tried to put her at ease. “Kelsey dear, this is only a conversation. There is no need to be uneasy.”

Kelsey quickly nodded. “Uh-ah.”

When her hands only gripped the chair tighter, he decided a brief conversation might help her become more comfortable.

“Tell me about your family,” Devon said.

Kelsey stared at the tile floor. “They are all gone now.”

“From the AgFlu?”

“No. Not all. Someone shot my dad. My mom too, but she had the AgFlu so she would’ve—you know—anyway.”

Devon picked up a pen and jotted down a few notes. It was rather common to find immunity ran through families. Kelsey’s father may have been immune.

“I’m sorry for your loss. Any siblings?”

“They all died during the outbreak.”

Devon scribbled in his notebook. Kelsey was the only one who inherited the immunity.

Devon put his pen back in his pocket and smiled. “We help people. Do you like to help people?”

Kelsey looked from Devon to the floor and back again. “Of course.”

Devon smiled, his heart warming at her willingness. “I’m so happy to hear that. I have a good feeling about you.”

The girl gave him a weak smile.

Devon’s heart ached a bit. He missed his nieces so much, and this young girl had the same lovely spirit they did.

Sydney later reported Kelsey sobbed on the way back to her room, but Devon gave that little consideration. The girl seemed perfectly happy to him.

Ahead, a door banged closed, bringing Devon to the present.

He turned to Skye and pointed out several rooms along their route. “These recovery rooms are used after procedures. Would you like to see one?”

“No, not really.”

Her quick response amused him, and he laughed. “Of course, you would. Then you will see how well we’ll take care of our Immune.”

He stopped in front of one door and knocked. A nurse answered the door. Devon smiled. She was one of his favorites—always happy with a smile on her face.

Behind her, tucked into bed, a patient slept peacefully.

“How is she doing?” Devon asked the nurse in a low tone.

“Very well.” The nurse smiled. “As soon as she wakes up, she’ll be able to go back to her room.”

Devon turned to Skye. “See. Everyone is happy. Everything is going to plan.”

Skye gazed at the woman in the bed. The panic that had hovered in her expression eased as she returned the nurse’s smile.

Devon’s tension eased. It was critical to gain the trust of a test subject—at least, at first.

But as he eyed Skye, Devon wished for more than her trust. He wanted her respect too.

And maybe, he thought as he rubbed his chin, something more.

Twenty-Four

The Dark Room

Skye had to admit her afternoon was going as smoothly as Devon had promised, she had to give him that.

Other than being tired from another massive blood draw, she had nothing to complain about. All other tests were non invasive.

There were questions, a lot of questions, but Devon seemed to be happy with the answers. Especially when she told him her father died of a heart attack and not the AgFlu. After that, he’d taken to whistling as he went about his work.

Skye sat on the padded exam table, staring at the recovery rooms across the hall.

How could she get into one?

She’d love to believe that each one held a happy, though drowsy, patient—but somehow, she doubted it. And if that was where she would end up, she wanted to know exactly what to expect.

Skye bided her time. Once Devon and his assistant were engrossed in their work and they had excused the guards for a break, she was ready to make a move.

With another glance at the restrooms lined up beside a set of recovery rooms, she said, “I’m sorry, Devon. I really am, but can I go to the restroom.”

She held her breath. Hopefully, he didn’t have one here in the lab.

Devon frowned as he looked at his glove-covered hands and the test tubes laid out in front of him. He glanced at the bathroom in the hallway, then at Skye.

She wiggled a little. “I’m sorry.”

“Go ahead,” he said.

Almost unable to believe Devon would allow it, Skye jumped off the table. “I’ll try not to be too long.”

She gave him a quick smile that he seemed to appreciate and turned for the door.

As she reached for the knob, he stopped her. “Skye, consider this an exercise in trust. You do not want it to go wrong. Untrustworthy patients don’t stay in a nice room or come to this lab. They go to another one.”

The assistant winced and added, “He means it.”

Skye curled her suddenly icy fingers against her palms and nodded.

After one more glance at Devon’s stony stare, she gulped and looked at the floor.

Her show of submission worked, Devon’s hard face eased, and he nodded. “Go now.”

Skye rushed out of the room, walking directly to the bathroom.

Once in the bathroom, she leaned back against the wall and tapped the block with a fingernail. She had to wait at least a few seconds before venturing out in case they watched her.

After about thirty-seconds, Skye peeked around the door and at the lab. Through the large windows, she could see both Devon and his nameless assistant bent over the countertop.

She glanced to the closest patient’s room and back at the lab. She could make it. Maybe.

If they kept their eyes on their work.

After hauling in a large breath, Skye ran to the room. It was only a few footsteps, but it seemed like a football field.

She rapped on the door and ran back to the restroom. If there was a nurse in that room, they’d open the door and see no one.

Heart pounding, she waited, trying to watch both the recovery room door and the lab.

She waited. No one peeked their head into the hallway.

Another glance at the lab assured her that Devon and his assistant were hard at work.

Skye raced back to the patient’s room and turned the knob. For a moment, it resisted. Then it opened.

She slipped inside the dim interior and closed the door behind her.

Skye blinked her eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the low.

A click and a rush of air broke the silence.

A groan of pain.

Skye pushed back against the wall, every sound amplified, wishing she could see better.

Once her vision adjusted, she saw a larger room than the one Devon had shown her.

Four patients—two women and two man—lay on metal tables similar to the ones in the Atlantian’s lab.

Straps held three in place. The fourth man had no restraints but was intubated.

Another groan.

Skye stepped closer.

One man raised his shaky hand, motioning for her to stop.

A sheet covered him to the waist. Tubes crisscrossed from his arms to the pouches hanging from an IV hook above his head.

His eyes rolled back into his head even as he tried to warn her. His arm dropped back onto the table.

The slow rattle of a chain against steel sent a shudder through Skye.

The woman lying on a table to her right dragged the sheet around her down, exposing red, angry skin. Massive boil-like sores covered the woman. Some of them appeared lanced, but not well. The ooze rolled down her side onto the table.

Skye’s stomach turned.

Her gaze darted back to the man and landed on the large red bumps trailing along his side. Soon he would look just like the woman.

The sick woman cleared her throat, and their eyes locked. Skye stepped toward her.

The woman slowly shook her head and rasped out, “Go back. Don’t make him angry.”

Skye’s hand flew to her mouth.

The woman raised her hand, pointing at the door. As she did, the chain circling her wrist dragged link by scraping link across her metal bed. “Go.”

Another voice echoed hers. “Go.”

A third voice resounded, and it shook Skye into action.

Quaking, tears blinding her vision, Skye blindly yanked open the door and raced down the hall to the bathroom. She threw a blurred glance at the lab window.

The assistant was there. Devon was not.

Skye gasped.

She ran into a stall and pushed her fist against her mouth to help stop the scream building in her.

Was that room her fate? Kelsey’s?

And where was Devon? Did he realize she’d strayed from the restroom? Was he out there looking for her right now?

Skye tore a piece of toilet paper off the roll and mopped her forehead.

Leather shoes tapped across the floor right outside the bathroom door.

She froze.

After gulping in a breath of air, Skye flushed the toilet. Somehow, she needed to make this look good.

After rushing to the sink, she splashed cold water on her face and scrubbed it off with a hand towel. Perhaps now her eyes wouldn’t seem blotchier than the rest of her face.

Devon strode in.

Skye’s gaze met his in the mirror.

His expression gave nothing away.

Afraid to breathe, Skye willed herself to remain calm. If she wanted to survive, she needed to keep up the act.

She gave a nervous laugh and put a hand to her middle. “So sorry. I’m afraid my stomach is giving me a little trouble.”

Devon’s narrowed gaze swept the room. “You shouldn’t let your nerves upset you like that.”

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry. You said I’d be okay, and I was. I’ll work on that.”

“Make sure you do. Now come along.”

Devon scanned the room again, then turned on his heel, expecting Skye to follow him.

She did, dragging her reluctant feet.

What other choice did she have?

Twenty-Five

You’ll Love It

Devon led Skye back into the lab. After pulling a wooden straight chair away from the wall, he indicated she should sit in it.

Skye dropped into it with no more emotion than a limp doll. But while her body obeyed, her mind rebelled, looking for any chance of escape.

Devon stood over her for a moment, staring at her, before saying, “Your tests came back within normal ranges. There is no reason we can’t begin today.”

Numbness washed over her. “Begin?”

“Just something small.”

Skye’s fingers curled around the edge of her chair.

“Small?” She couldn’t keep the tremble from her voice as she thought about the dark room across the hall. She realized she was little more than an echo, but it was all she could manage.

Devon put a hand to her chin and tipped her head back. With a clinical gaze, he looked from one of her eyes to the other. When satisfied, he moved his hand to her hair and stroked it as if she were some sort of pet. “Don’t worry, dear. It is only a small contagion—something you would pick up from the grocery store.”

Devon’s patronizing manner angered her out of her stupor, and she barked at him. “You’re injecting me with a disease?”

Devon gave her a dark look, but no answer.

Skye eyed a pile of straps that had appeared on top of the counter during her restroom break. If she wasn’t careful, he’d use those on her.

She was trying to earn trust, not lose more of it.

Devon moved around the room, opening and shutting drawers as he got an injection ready.

At one point, his back was turned, and she frantically scanned the lab.

The assistant had left, but the guards were back and standing outside the door. There was no chance she’d get past them.

Skye bit the inside of her lip as Devon walked toward her, needle in hand. She scooted as far back in the chair as it would allow.

“Tell me why you do this?” she quickly asked.

“Test subjects’ reactions to various diseases tell me a lot. I’m hoping to find the—well, I’ll keep it simple for you—the reason some are resistant to the AgFlu. And if there are common markers between it and other communicable illnesses.”

“I see. How does this help your initial goal of finding a cure for the AgFlu? Shouldn’t you be focusing on that?”

Devon’s face reddened. He stopped and folded his arms. “How dare you question me. A doctor of the mind knows nothing about my area of research.” He leaned over her. “Skye. Am I going to have a problem with you?”

She gave a quick shake of her head. “Of course not. I would do anything to help sick people get better. I’m just confused over the reasoning behind this type of experimentation.”

Devon took a step back. “It isn’t for you to understand.”

“How can we continue our sessions if I’m sick?”

Devon rapped on the window and waved the guards in.

Skye closed her eyes. She either allowed this and kept Devon’s trust or fought it and lost it.

“Can you at least tell me what this disease is?”

“A variant of the common cold. That is all.”

Skye trembled as she pushed the sleeve of her shirt up. “Fine. Go ahead.”

Devon laid the needle on her arm, and she instinctively jerked away. One of the guards stepped forward, and Skye forced her body to relax. Anything to avoid being held down again. “Just do it already,” she said through clenched teeth.

Devon flashed her an excited look. He enjoyed her discomfort even though he claimed otherwise. “I promise this will only hurt a bit.”

“Do you do this with everyone? Keep the hurt to a little bit?”

Devon heaved a regretful sigh. “I try. Some don’t cooperate, and they—well, let’s just say they have a rougher time of it.”

“But if I cooperate?”

“The hurts are minimal, and the conditions good. Just like the patient I showed you.”

Skye nodded. The woman in chains had said not to make him angry.

Devon slid the needle into her arm. There was hardly a pinch.

Once done, Devon cooed over her as he bandaged her arm. It reminded her of some of her client’s parents. More than one abused their child, then tenderly cared for the very wounds they inflicted.

Even if Devon’s abuse was medical, the man was sick—so very sick.

The moment he loosened his grip on her, Skye pulled her arm from his clinging fingers.

Devon turned and threw the needle away in a small garbage can. “Okay, then, dear. We are done for the day.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Skye shot out of her chair and rushed to the door. After pushing through it, she turned left—back to her room.

She couldn’t stop a sneaking glance at the recovery room doors.

Perhaps it would have been better not to know what was in store for her and Kelsey.

But now she did, and it was clear they needed to get out of here fast. Who knew what the next injection would be?

Somehow, Skye needed to talk to Kelsey today, but how? She couldn’t think of a way until she and the guards stopped at her bedroom door.

Sydney walked into Skye’s room and stepped toward the back of the room and everything changed.

The female guard pulled a key out of her pocket and unlocked the large sliding glass door leading to the balcony. “The boss said you did well today and is rewarding you with balcony access for the rest of the day.” She pulled in a deep breath. “It’s nice out here—you’ll love it.”

Skye beamed. “I sure will.”

Skye waited until they brought dinner. After that—if this night was like the others—there would be no more visitors.

She pushed the recliner chair against the front of her door. If someone tried to come in, it might buy her a moment or two.

She stood there and listened, making sure she hadn’t alarmed anyone who may be guarding the hallway.

After making sure she was safe, Skye sprinted through her room, grabbing a few DVDs as she went.

After opening the slider door, she stepped out and surveyed the ground below. No guards.

She studied the balcony next to hers.

Kind of far, but doable—just—maybe.

Skye eyed Kelsey’s glass door and raised her arm, letting a DVD fly.

It sailed across the drop between the balconies, tapped against the door, and fell to the tile floor with a small, plastic splat.

When Kelsey didn’t appear, Skye tossed another one.

The girl’s curtains were thrust to one side and Kelsey’s frowning face appeared. Her palms slapped against the glass, and her expression brightened.

Kelsey slid her glass door open wide and stepped out onto her balcony.

Twenty-Six

The Plan

Kelsey rushed across the patio, eyeing Skye’s pale face. “Skye! Are you all right?”

“Are you? Were you injected?”

“No,” Kelsey said, wishing she could reach out and hug her troubled friend. “I had an interview—of sorts. Then they stuck me back in my room.”

“But how did you get access to the balcony?”

“Oh, that!” Kelsey chuckled. “I had that lock picked five minutes after they locked me in. I’ve just been trying to figure out how to get to you.”

Skye’s shoulders sagged in relief. “So, no shots?”

“No shots.”

“What about you, Skye?”

The woman looked out to sea and nodded her head. “He injected me with something. He says only the common cold. But how can I know for sure?” She wiped a finger over the corner of her eye. “Crying won’t help anything.”

“I think you were the one who said we have to allow ourselves to feel.” Kelsey frowned. Something else was wrong. The tension seemed to radiate from Skye. “Skye? What happened?”

“I snuck around a little today. I walked into one of their recovery rooms. It was—it was bad.” Skye shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. “So very bad. They were—Well, I’ll just say dying will be a blessing for them.”

Kelsey’s gaze sunk to the tiled floor. “When they take me, I’ll try to look around too.”

“No.” Skye put out a hand. “We need to leave tonight. Now.”

“How?”

Skye looked over the railing to the ground below.

Kelsey did the same. The soil was sandy, but rocks were scattered throughout it. And the way down seemed endless. Kelsey felt dizzy and pulled back.

“We have to,” Skye explained. “Anything—anything is better than what I saw. I have a plan. We may have to drop the last few feet, but we can make it.”

Kelsey set her shoulders. “You know I hate heights, but if it means getting out of here, I’ll try.”

Skye’s fingers whitened as she gripped the rail, studying the lower levels of the building. Windows lined the bottom floor.

“Hopefully, those rooms with windows are empty. If not, we’ll be caught right away.”

Kelsey nodded. “We must be careful. But the sooner we get out of here, the better. This place resonates evil.” The girl tried to shake off some of her tension. When was the last time she’d felt safe?

Cole’s Mountain.

Kelsey let the memory envelop her—allowed safety’s warm comfort to wrap around her like a thick blanket. Remembering would give her the strength to get from here to the ground far below.

They would make it home. She had made it out of Fenton, and she’d make it out of this place.

“Okay, what’s the plan?” Kelsey asked.

“We are going old school,” Skye replied. “Strip the sheets off of your bed. Then drag your mattress out here and push it off the balcony.”

“Okay.” It wasn’t an original plan, but it just might work. Especially if she could maneuver the mattress to fall so it would protect her from that large rock below.

The girl ran inside and pulled the covers off her bed. She tipped the mattress onto its side and wrestled it over to the sliding door.

After getting it there, she tipped it up against the wall and took a moment to pull her hair off her sweaty neck. She also threw a change of clothes, some leftover dinner, and a bottle of water into a pillowcase. She threw that out onto the patio and took up the battle with the mattress again.

Once she reached the railing, she closed her eyes and prayed no one on the lower floors would see the thing go sailing by, and that it would land where she needed it.

A sudden rush of wind off the ocean almost blew the mattress out of her grip and back toward the room, but Kelsey managed to hold on to it.

She pushed at the top half, trying to tip it over the railing. The bed fought her, but in the end, its own weight worked against it.

The mattress landed against the rocky sand with a dull smack. Dirt bounced up around the sides and settled back to earth again.

Kelsey sent Skye a triumphant look. It had landed in the perfect spot.

“Okay. Good!” Skye said, “Now let’s tie all our sheets together.”

Kelsey rushed back into her room.

Skye held out a hand and said, “Wait!”

The girl spun around.

“Kelsey.” Skye ran a hand over her face, then looked up, drilling Kelsey with her gaze. “If something happens . . . if we get separated . . . you must go on without me.”

Kelsey shook her head.

“Listen,” Skye continued, “you have to. You can’t fight these people alone, but if you can get back to Dylan—back to the mountain—you can get help. But whatever you do, never, ever come back here. Do you hear me? Even dying out there is better than anything here. Promise me, you will run and never come back.”

An icy chill ran up Kelsey’s spine. Whatever was going on here had Skye petrified.

But leaving her?

Skye must have seen the doubt on her face because she continued.

“There is nothing but a slow, painful death here. You have to go and get help. Promise.”

As much as Kelsey would like to take on the whole place, Skye was right. “I will. I promise.”

“Okay.” Skye gave a sharp nod. “Go get your escape sheets ready.”

Kelsey grabbed the sheets and pulled them, trailing a long tail behind her. It reminded her of the one and only time she’d snuck out of her room before the AgFlu had gotten bad. That had been one floor, and she’d panicked and fallen most of the way—this was three.

At the balcony, she looked down and bit her lip.

She had to do it. She had to.

Kelsey wound one end of the sheet around the railing, tying it in a secure knot. She braced her legs and pulled, testing it. It held without slipping.

As Kelsey waited for Skye to return, she tested the makeshift rope one more time, then threw it over the railing. It unfurled, ending sooner than Kelsey would’ve liked. It would be a long drop to the mattress. But at least it was something soft to land on.

Kelsey glanced up as Skye rushed through her sliding door, dragging her bedding behind her. She saw Kelsey’s packed pillowcase and turned back for her room. “Start down while I get a couple of things.”

Kelsey glanced at Skye, the sheet, and the ground. Her stomach seemed as knotted as the bedding. She’d rather wait until Skye came back.

But every minute would count. And there was nothing Skye could do to help her climb.

Kelsey heaved a breath and grabbed the railing, throwing a leg over.

Then froze.

After a few panicked gasps, she hardened her jaw and squared her shoulders. She wiped her sweaty hands on her jeans, grabbed the railing, and swung her other leg over before she could think too much about it.

After a bit of fumbling, she had her arms and legs around the dangling sheets, her hand clenching the material with everything she had.

A sharp burst of wind off the open ocean caused her to sway. She gasped and looked down.

Bad idea.

Skye’s gentle voice came from the balcony. “You can do it, Kelsey. Loosen one hand a little, let it slide down, then do the same with the next. You’ll be off this in no time.”

It took Kelsey a minute to work up the courage to move anything, but once she did she set a pace.

Skye’s continual cheering helped. “You’re doing great, Kelsey! This is nothing. You’ve done harder things, survived worse.”

Skye was right. This was nothing.

Kelsey was more than halfway down when she heard a distant knocking.

Her gaze darted to the windows before looking up at a pale Skye leaning over the railing. “Go, Kelsey. Run far!”

“Skye!”

“Do you hear me?”

Kelsey gave a quick nod, tears springing to her eyes.

Skye glanced at her room. “I may be able to get rid of them. Leave a note at—at that pawn shop we saw on our way here, if you can. Saving yourself will save me. Remember that!”

The knock sounded again, louder this time. Skye ran a hand over her hair. “I love you, girl, but you need to go.” She gave Kelsey a wobbly smile and disappeared from view.

Kelsey clung to the twisting sheets. She allowed one sob before pushing the fear away.

At the end of the material, she hung for only a second or two before working up the courage to drop to the mattress below.

Her landing was softer than she’d imagined, except for one large stone that pushed its way through the bedding and into her hip.

She rubbed it as she stood and grabbed her pillowcase, then rushed toward the building. As she crouched below the windows, she looked up. Her sheets seemed like flags announcing her escape, but there was no way to get rid of them.

Kelsey stared, willing Skye to swing a leg over the railing and join her, but she didn’t.

With an angry hand, she scrubbed at the tears trailing down her cheek.

She had no time for this. She needed to save Skye. And to do that, she had to move. Now.

Kelsey scanned the length of the building. Did they patrol here?

She picked her way across the rocky soil to the corner of the building and peeked around the side.

It was the same parking lot they’d used when Zane had brought them here—the one that led straight up the hill to town.

This time of day, the sun was low, setting over the storm-ravaged town. Soon, she’d have all the cover she needed.

Kelsey studied this end of the domed building. No windows.

They must have kept those for the walls facing the ocean. That was good for her.

Giving the dome one more glance, she raced across the empty parking lot and up the street, heading into town.

Once again, alone.

Twenty-Seven

The Way Out

Kelsey stayed to the side of the parking lot, out of the eye-line of anyone peeking out the lobby’s glass doors.

At the top of the small hill, the first town building to Kelsey’s left sat a surfboard rental shack. She rushed to it and hunkered down beside its shadowy, weathered wall.

She gasped, her heart tapping faster than the spotted bunny she’d had as a pet when she was younger.

Kelsey put a hand to her chest, willing her heartbeat to quiet. She needed to calm down. No one made good decisions when panicked.

The night was still—quiet and clear. And the ocean waves lapped against the sandy beach behind her. The dark had deepened and without the town’s light pollution the stars thrown across the sky shone with extra brilliance, and the moon seemed overly bright. Not the best when one was on the run.

She scanned the street but found nothing alarming.

Could it be this easy? Slide down a rope and walk away.

She squinted back at the massive building, hoping to see Skye behind her.

Kelsey wanted to stay put and wait, her eyes glued to the building until Skye came out. But that was exactly what she’d told Skye she wouldn’t do. She needed to go.

Kelsey sighed and pushed a few stray strands of her long, dark hair back into her ponytail.

She needed to go now.

They could be knocking on her door right now if they hadn’t already. Every minute counted.

Kelsey scurried to the shadow of the next building and the next until she came to the center of town. Ahead, the moon lit the pawnshop sign.

At the next crossroads, she stopped.

Better to find the escape route first, then leave a note for Skye.

Kelsey peered down the street to the right, looking for a vehicle but finding few that seemed acceptable.

The two cars directly in front of her had dead bodies in them. She would only use those if she had no other choice. Even the thought of touching those things gave her the chills.

Further ahead, three other vehicles were smashed together.

Kelsey turned left, staying in the shadows and racing to the first crossroad. On the corner was a parking lot with a few acceptable vehicles. A large black truck in the middle caught her eye.

Not black. Kelsey took a step closer. Midnight blue.

Jesse had told her trucks were the best, so that’s the one she’d try.

She didn’t know a lot about pickups, but this one was huge. And big seemed safer right now.

Kelsey moved into the open, staying alert. Step by cautious step, she moved toward the vehicle.

After reaching the driver’s side, she pulled on the handle. When it refused to budge, she pulled a face and crouched, running to the passenger’s side. It was also locked.

Perhaps the owner was like Wade and never completely closed the rear cab window.

Kelsey grabbed the tailgate and dragged herself up and over into the truck’s metal bed as quietly as possible.

From there, she could see the back cab window was open an inch or so.

She swallowed her excitement and pushed it open. Then wiggled herself over the toolbox spanning the width of the truck and made her way into the cab.

Kelsey plopped into the seat. The cab was massive—especially for one smallish teenage girl.

She pulled down both visors, checked the glove box, and felt under the seat, but there were no keys. Hot wiring a truck this new wasn’t an option.

Kelsey pushed the door open and hopped to the ground. She slid under the truck and ran her hands along every bump, nook, and cranny of the bottom. When she found nothing, she wiggled her way out.

There had to be a key somewhere. There just had to be.

Kelsey hauled herself back into the bed of the truck and studied everything. A tool pouch sat in the back corner.

No, probably not. There were too many holes.

She eyed the big metal toolbox attached to the vehicle and smiled.

After running her hands along the bottom outside edge with no success, she reached further—until her arm and shoulder disappeared under the thing.

Kelsey practically exploded with relief when she found what she was looking for—a little magnetic case.

The key was inside.

She jumped over the side of the truck, her tennis shoes tapping against the pavement.

Key in hand, Kelsey turned to the driver’s door.

A rattle echoed from mid-town.

Kelsey froze.

She scanned the shadowy buildings across from where she stood.

If only she could see better.

Her excitement had gotten the better of her. There were evil people on her tail. And there were still Sick and Infected out here.

She gripped the key, then slid it deep into her jean’s pocket.

Now she had a good vehicle and a plan.

But maybe not the greatest plan. After all, it was basically get the heck out of here and head north to Cole’s Mountain.

But at least she had one.

She’d leave Skye a note. Then she would burn rubber out of this town if she had to.

Kelsey rushed back to the alleyway, peeked around the corner, and ran up to the pawn shop door.

A locked steel gate covered it.

“Are you kidding me?” Kelsey murmured. She threw a glance toward midtown.

What should she do? This is where Skye would look.

Kelsey reached through the grate and turned the knob of the main door. Without a sound, it swung part-way open.

Okay, so she just needed to get through the steel gate.

Kelsey stared at the store’s floor.

Inside the threshold lay a piece of paper with a smiley face and a key sitting on it. She grabbed it and pushed it into the grate’s lock and softly laughed as the key smoothly turned in the lock.

With care, Kelsey pushed the well-oiled gate to one side. She stepped into the almost pitch-dark store and stopped, trying to listen to the surrounding darkness.

No sound. No rustle, no squeak of a shoe, no breathing.

The store felt empty. It smelled empty too—kind of dusty, but with a bit of dampness mixed in.

Kelsey took another step and shut the door behind her.

On the counter, a tiny lamp made a small circle of light. Beside it, a white piece of paper seemed to glow.

Kelsey tensed. Was this some kind of trick?

But it was so quiet.

She studied the light. It looked solar-powered and positioned so the sunshine would recharge it each day.

As quietly as possible, she made her way to the counter.

In bold, somewhat messy handwriting, the note reassured her that her mountain wasn’t the only place with kind people.

It simply said, “Take whatever you need, dude, no probs. Me and mine are chillin’ with friends. Hope you get where you need to go.”

A small chuckle escaped Kelsey. No one could fake this.

She looked around the store. It was a treasure trove if one disregarded all the ocean toys, including the most extensive collection of boogie boards Kelsey had ever seen.

She turned to the other side of the store where camping and a bit of hunting equipment lined the shelves. If everything went well, she’d be home sometime tomorrow morning. If not, she needed to be prepared.

Kelsey reached under the front counter and grabbed a couple of large shopping bags.

In one, she threw in a selection of MRIs and protein bars. A lightweight blanket, fire starters, lighters, an ax, a pan, and a few bottles of water were next.

Kelsey stuck two long knives through her belt.

She walked back to the front counter and dug around. With a smile, she pulled out a taser.

Kelsey carried her bags to the door and scanned the store one more time. There was so much more she’d like to bring, but she had time to make one trip to the truck.

Kelsey set her bags down and pulled a piece of paper out of the printer behind the counter and laid it beside the note she’d found.

On it, she wrote her note for Skye, scribbling that she’d made it this far and was fine. She kept it short and unemotional, trying not to give too much away. Neither she nor Skye had time for anything other than the business of escaping.

She ended the note by saying she would see Skye again in almost heaven. Kelsey almost crossed it out, thinking it told too much, but decided not many would realize she meant home—West Virginia.

After, she returned everything to the way she’d found it, including the little smiley paper and the key.

Outside, the quiet street was clear as far as she could see.

Still, she kept to the shadows for as long as possible as she rushed through the ally and turned into the parking lot.

Moonlight gleamed along the side of the truck. It shone like a beacon crying, “Freedom!”

With all her heart, she wanted to run for it. Instead, she stopped and scanned the area.

Slow and steady. That’s what Dylan reminded them when they scouted. It was the same here.

Once Kelsey deemed it safe. She crouched and rushed for the truck, her shoes lightly tapping over the concrete.

Her heart thumping, she opened the truck door and threw her stuffed bags into the far seat.

One foot on the driver’s side step, she paused.

Something was not right. Someone was out there.

Gravel crunched beneath a boot.

A glass bottle clattered across the pavement.

Kelsey pulled in a sharp breath and clenched the inside handle of the door as the sounds echoed toward her.

The bottle rolled and rolled until ended with a quick pop—like it had burst into a thousand splinters.

They wanted her to know they were here.

Kelsey ignored the icy finger of fear trailing down her spine and jumped into the driver’s seat.

She hit the auto-lock and slammed the key into the ignition, turning it.

The truck roared to life. She threw it into gear and stomped on the gas.

The pickup jerked forward.

Kelsey clung to the large steering wheel as she got the vehicle under control, and turned toward the main road.

Behind her, a man shouted.

A bullet buzzed past her window, taking a chunk out of the side mirror.

Kelsey gasped and ducked, cursing the evil people who chased her.

She glanced at the cracked mirror. Three men ran after her, aiming their guns at the truck.

Gripping the steering wheel, she hit the gas and raced through town.

She didn’t slow until the men and their guns were far behind her.

Twenty-Eight

The Chase

Kelsey scoured the roadside for highway signs. The sooner she made it to an Interstate, the sooner she would feel safe.

The night’s dim light didn’t help, and she hesitated to turn on her headlights. They would make her instantly visible.

Her knuckles whitened as she clenched the steering wheel, leaning forward to see better.

Everything had her twitching—the wind moving the trees, a piece of trash blowing across the street.

There would be more of Devon’s people out here—she’d be a fool to think otherwise.

When the highway came into view, Kelsey sagged with relief.

Just a little longer and she’d be home-free.

As she turned onto the interstate ramp, she gasped when what seemed like an empty car along the side of the road sprang to life.

They’d waited for her.

Kelsey stomped on the gas. Maybe she could outrun them.

It seemed to work at first, then the car caught up and pulled alongside her.

Kelsey frowned and glanced at it.

A man in the passenger’s side pointed a gun at her. He waved her to the edge of the road.

Kelsey’s scowl deepened. Absolutely not!

She pushed the gas pedal. The truck surged ahead.

Kelsey snorted. That’s what they get for chasing someone in an old man’s car.

Unused to maneuvering a vehicle at such high speeds, Kelsey turned her attention to her driving. She was ahead, but not by much.

She clamped her jaw, determined to win this race.

But now what? She couldn’t keep this up all the way home.

An exit sign appeared ahead. She needed to get off this road. Here she was, an obvious target with nowhere to hide.

Kelsey continued on the highway and veered into the exit lane at the last minute.

The truck’s tires screeched, and the steering wheel rebelled, but the girl kept it in line.

The men blew past the exit before slamming on their brakes, and the passenger stuck his gun out the window and took a couple of potshots at her.

Kelsey ducked, but neither bullet hit the truck.

At a traffic light that no longer glowed, Kelsey looked to her left and right. Buildings to the right—nothing but trees to the left. With no time to think, she chose right and prayed it was the correct one.

Maybe—just maybe—there was a friendly family out there who would help her. Not everyone was a criminal.

Kelsey grimaced. Doctor Evil had probably cleared out any decent people from these areas long ago. She couldn’t count on any help. She was on her own and right back that way she had started this Agflu disaster—scared and alone.

As she drove down the main road, she heard the other car racing down the ramp, trying to catch up.

Kelsey took the first road to her right and drove faster, wanting to get as far down this street as possible before they crossed it. They would be here any minute.

With a groan of indecision, she pulled up to a small snarl of traffic and stopped the pickup so that its front end tipped into a small ditch running alongside the road.

She turned the key and let the car die. Kelsey grabbed the taser out of the shopping bag and sunk deep into the seat.

She put a hand to her chest and willed her erratic breathing to slow. She jumped at every ping the pickup made as it cooled down.

Silence. She needed absolute silence—nothing to give her away. Kelsey already felt too vulnerable sitting here in the open.

She squeezed her eyes shut and listened.

Nothing. Where were they?

Perhaps she should leave the truck. But it was the only safety she had. With it, she was able to race out of here. Her own two feet were not nearly as fast.

She looked at the two paper shopping bags. Right now, everything she had in this world was in this truck.

She’d stay with the truck.

Another minute ticked by with no sighting of the two men. Perhaps they had turned left at the light—hadn’t even come this way.

If that was the case, she should use this time to drive further away—not sit here doing nothing.

Kelsey turned in the driver’s seat until she was able to peek over the back of the seat.

The road was empty.

Go—or don’t go?

She needed a map to guide her down these back roads. She wouldn’t be safe on the highway until she was further from these guys.

Kelsey swept her hand through the pockets on the doors, under the seat, and several other nooks and crannies.

Once she’d double-checked the area, she dared to open the glove box. The small light seemed blinding. She quickly shifted through the papers, but still nothing.

Kelsey glanced at the cars.

She didn’t want to, but she’d have to check the other vehicles.

Once again, she peered over the seat, and finding no one, reached up and clicked off the dome light.

After drawing the keys from the ignition, she held her breath as she opened the truck’s driver side door.

She walked with a light step over the crunchy gravel road to the first car. A blue sedan with the doors shut tight.

Kelsey’s foot pushed something deeper into the gravel. She bent and picked it up.

A pen flashlight. She looked around before clicking it on and off. It still worked.

She peered inside the blue car and saw a body. She moved on to the other two vehicles.

One was empty.

Kelsey dragged the door open, hoping the dome light wouldn’t come on. It didn’t. She searched the entire car, but there was nothing.

Kelsey stared at the two cars with bodies in them and shuddered. But she had to do what needed done.

The yellow car had a GPS on the dash. They probably didn’t have a map.

Kelsey turned to the blue car and sighed. “It’s you and me, then,” she murmured.

She drew in a deep breath before throwing open the door. The stink wafted over her, and she almost choked.

She might as well get used to it—the smell would cling to her for hours.

As quickly as possible, Kelsey searched the car. But again, nothing.

As she stood to close the door, the pop of gravel sounded—as if it were caught between the road and a tire.

She froze.

There was movement at the end of the road.

Kelsey snapped off the penlight and crouched behind the blue car, peeking around its end.

The car drove slow—it was almost silent as it went through the intersection.

The evil men’s car stopped, and the passenger poked something out the window.

Although the moon gleamed on the object, Kelsey wasn’t able to make it out. Until the bright sweep of a light beam barely missed her.

A spotlight—like the kind people used for deer hunting.

Her heart jumped, and she whipped backward, making herself as small as possible against the wheel of the car.

Would they see the truck—recognize it?

Her gaze darted around the area—her mind jumping from one solution to another until she settled for the best she could do.

Plastic garbage cans sat at the end of each driveway. She army-crawled to the closest drive where a set of bins had tipped over. With care, she peeked into each one. They were almost empty.

Using the truck as a shield, she slid the plastic cans into its bed, making sure they would see them if the light landed on the pickup.

Kelsey walked back and pawed through the larger items that littered the ground. She pulled at some material that turned out to be a large tablecloth.

She dropped it over the tailgate.

Hopefully, that would be enough to make it look like an unfamiliar vehicle.

After having done all she was able to do, Kelsey crouch behind one of the large tires of her truck and watched as the spotlight drew closer.

Her stomach knotted tighter.

The bright beam swept over the yellow car—then the blue one—lingering on each one.

Kelsey held her breath. Had she left anything that would tell them she was right here in front of them?

The light moved, gleaming on the edge of the truck’s silver bumper, inches from her.

Her eyes followed it, refusing to budge as it brightened the underside of the vehicle.

She pulled her legs in, putting her arms around them.

Long shadows of the tires appeared on the road. Would the one she hid behind look different from the rest?

Kelsey waited for a shout or the banging of car doors. If she heard that, she’d have to leave everything and run—run for all she was worth.

Kelsey dug the toe of her shoe into the gravel and put her hand to the ground.

The over-bright beam lingered on the truck, then moved on, across the grass and over the houses before it cut off.

Kelsey almost laughed in relief and slapped her hand over her mouth.

She waited until their car moved on before jumping into the truck.

They drove further down the road and turn the spotlight on again.

Her hands curled around the steering wheel. She was eager to leave.

Just a little longer. Slow and steady.

Once they were out of range, Kelsey tossed the garbage cans out of the back of the pickup but kept the tablecloth. It might be of some use.

After climbing back into the truck, she scanned the houses alongside the road. One of them was bound to have a map.

She shook her head as she glanced at the road behind her. This wasn’t the place to linger and find out. She’d have to take her chances.

She knew the way north. That would have to do for now.

Twenty-Nine

Her Trouble

Kelsey held her breath as she turned the key. The engine rumbled, then settled into a quiet purr.

Hopefully, the men hadn’t heard that.

With a swift glance down the street, she backed the truck out of the ditch and continued up the back road as far as she was able.

When the gravel road dead-ended into a paved street, she turned left. It would take her further away from the Interstate, but that seemed a good thing for now. This larger road may have some amenities. The fuel gauge pointed nearer to empty than she’d like, and a gas station would be a good place to look for a map.

Kelsey drove for about fifteen minutes before she hit pay dirt—a gas station.

She scanned the building for any movement.

The pumps lit up the night like a beacon, even though no other lights in the place were on. Someone must take care of the station.

Kelsey passed the building and stopped beside some tall bushes. From here, she could spy on the place.

After about ten minutes with no noise and movement, she took a chance.

After turning the pickup around, she pulled it in beside a gas pump.

Kelsey watched the station’s door--sure some irate owner would bust through it at any time.

She yanked the nozzle off of the machine, put it in the truck, and squeezed the handle. Gas flowed into the truck just as if the world hadn’t changed.

But it had changed, and this was weird.

After setting the hose to auto, she reached into the back seat and pulled out the taser.

She gripped it with both hands as she stood there waiting for the truck to fill up.

Even before, filling a vehicle at an empty station in the dead of night would’ve been eerie. Now it was downright terrifying.

Once the tank was full, Kelsey debated her map situation.

She scanned the area. Still no one. Kelsey tried to make out the dim front room of the station but couldn’t.

Torn over what to do, Kelsey knew she needed that map. She couldn’t let fear stop her or she could end up driving in circles.

There wasn’t enough time or fuel to get lost.

Kelsey raced to the front of the small mom-and-pop style store and peeked through the windows.

Her gaze met nothing but blackness.

After glancing at the truck—that now seemed so far away—she went to the commercial glass door and yanked on the handle, taser ready.

Locked.

She almost cried. With one more glance toward the truck and the safety it offered, Kelsey squared her shoulders and ran to the back of the building.

After rounding the corner, she spied a back door.

Kelsey crept toward it as she looked over the back yard. Once she determined it safe, she twisted the doorknob and smiled when the door opened.

The sickly-sweet smell of death rolled over her.

Kelsey’s grin disappears as she took a step back and drew her shirt over her nose.

The moonlight over her shoulder revealed a family laid out on the concrete floor. A huge clear plastic sheet covered them. Kelsey’s gaze lingered on the flowers, button-down shirts, and pink bows, tears coming to her eyes.

What this world had come to. Had they chosen this themselves, or had someone done this to them?

Stories like this would be lost forever.

Kelsey moved past the decaying family, murmuring apologies and avoiding a second look. The children reminded her too much of her own lost siblings.

She headed straight to the front of the store and found a rack of maps right away. She pulled out one for North and South Carolina as well as Virginia and West Virginia.

Better to be over-prepared.

Beside the map stand stood a cooler with a large vinyl sticker announcing Mountain Dew stuck to the front of it.

Kelsey’s mouth watered. How long had it been since she’d had her favorite pop?

Even warm, it would be delicious and help her stay awake on the way home. She opened the cooler door and pulled out every bottle.

Kelsey peeked out the store window at her pickup and cleared the area before unlocking the front door and running for the vehicle. She hopped in and quickly locked the doors.

Kelsey leaned back in the seat and breathed out a sigh of relief before unfolding the South Carolina map. She found her general area but would be sure once she got to a named town. For now, she’d continue north.

Kelsey downed a bottle of Mountain Dew along with two protein bars, both for the substance and caffeine. It was going to be a long night.

She laid the map on the seat beside her and fired up the truck.

It was time to go home.

Three hours later, she’d found her place on the map and slowly edged her way toward the interstate. But Mountain Dew or no—Kelsey couldn’t keep her eyes open.

It’d been twenty-four hours since she’d gotten any actual sleep and now, in the early morning, it had caught up with her.

As she uttered yet another yawn, she saw a grassy field with a large, lonely barn. She moved off the Interstate and bumped over the rough terrain until she was on the opposite side of the building.

After locking up, she covered herself, head to toe, with the blanket from the pawnshop. On top of that, she put the tablecloth. Hopefully, if someone wandered past, they wouldn’t even see her.

She hugged her taser to herself and drifted off.

When Kelsey woke, the sun perched high in the sky, and the truck cab was warming up. She peeked out of the front window and saw little besides long grass waving in the breeze.

As Kelsey studied the map, she had another protein bar and Mountain Dew. She gave a loud, rough burp and giggled before turning the truck toward the highway.

She settled in for what she figured would be a few hours’ drive and smiled as she imagined driving up her mountain.

What she hadn’t imagined was the company on the Interstate. It shocked her at first.

Vehicles were admittedly rare, but she’d expected none. Several cars passed her going south. She slowed the first time, her hands clenched on the wheel and ready to swerve if need be. But they just drove on by.

By the time Kelsey came up behind a blue SUV going north, it seemed normal. The kids in the back waved at her, and she waved back. Even the dad gave her a nod and smile when he realized she wasn’t a threat.

There were still good people, not everyone was like Doctor Evil.

A couple of hours later, Kelsey was digging around for a bottle of water when she spotted a small caravan of vehicles in the distance traveling opposite of her.

A single car here and there was one thing—but this many together? It seemed like trouble.

She scoured the road for an exit but realized she’d just passed it about a mile back.

Perhaps whoever it was would leave her alone.

Kelsey shook her head. She couldn’t take that chance. She was alone—with no one at her back.

She shuddered. Alone was the one thing she’d never wanted to be again. Fenton had been enough.

Kelsey stayed in the furthest right Northbound lane and readied herself to take the truck off-road if need be.

As the caravan of vans and trucks got closer, her breathing quickened. Her heart thumped its fear loud enough Kelsey swore she heard it.

“It’ll be okay,” she murmured to herself. “They’ll continue south—I’ll continue north. No problem.”

She stared at the line of vehicles as they got closer.

“White van, blue van, blue truck, black truck. Trouble and more trouble.”

As if a childhood rhyme, she repeated to herself, “White van, blue van, blue truck, black truck.”

Kelsey squinted, trying to see the vehicles better as they sped toward her.

“White van, blue van, blue truck, black truck.”

Something about them . . .

They were so close now that they would soon be past her.

And that was just what she wanted.

Didn’t she? She held her breath.

The white van blew by her.

She eyed the driver of the blue van.

Kelsey’s pent-up air burst out in a shocked huff.

She stomped the breaks and yanked the wheel to the left.

The truck protested, squealing as it left black marks and smoke behind her.

Bumping across the grassy median, she blared the horn over and over.

She’d been right.

They were trouble, but they were her trouble.

Thirty

The Question

Dylan shifted in his seat and winced. When he moved just right, the dang wound still sent a red-hot poker through him.

He sighed. Who was he kidding? Not sometimes, every time he moved. But it was nothing next to the anguish he had over Skye’s loss.

Every cell in his being called out for her. The emptiness was almost more than he could bear.

What if he never found her? What if he lived the rest of his life without his darlin’?

Dylan hung his head. He couldn’t think like this—it was driving him crazy. He’d find her and take her home. That was all there was to it.

He raised his hand and bit at his nail—his nervous habit kicking in again. At least, he and Jesse had easily caught up with Wade’s group. He had to be thankful for that.

But the traveling was hard. Dylan wanted to make plans, feel like he was doing something, anything. But there were no plans to make until he learned the layout of the place. All he was able to do was watch the trees rush by.

Dylan huffed out a sigh and ran a hand through his shaggy hair.

Jessie, who sat between the two brothers, patted Dylan’s shoulder and sighed himself. “It’ll be okay, Dad.”

Dylan had to smile at the boy as his heart warmed at the boy’s new name for him.

Dad.

Dylan had never been sure he’d ever be a father, but he and Jesse had clicked on a deep level. Much of their upbringing was the same, and they understood one another. Dylan wanted to be a strong support for Jesse as he grew—to imitate his own real father and not the stepfather who had been more of a threat than anything else.

“We’ll get them back,” Jesse said, “I know we will.”

Dylan gave him a tight smile and nodded.

Jesse wasn’t as confident as he pretended. His round, scared eyes reminded Dylan that he was a kid caught in a world no one understood yet.

Dylan put an arm around his son and squeezed his shoulders. “Yep, we will. We’ll be there in no time.”

“We’ll get ‘em both,” Jesse said, shooting an uncertain glance at Dylan.

“Of course, we will. Everyone’s important, Jesse. We don’t leave anyone behind.”

Jesse nodded, and his body relaxed some. The boy was sweet on Kelsey, even though she was a couple of years older than him.

Dylan smiled. But someday, in a decade or so, who knew?

When they passed the sign welcoming them to South Carolina, Dylan and Wade glanced at each other.

“Here we are,” Wade said.

“I wish we knew how far down the coast they were.”

“The road may tell us. It has so far.”

Dylan grunted his agreement.

The road had been remarkably clear of debris as they traveled south. Someone had shoved all the empty cars to the side of the road, and from any exits that were apparently used regularly. They had passed a few cars zipping north or south as they’d driven the highway. The men had stared at each one as they went by.

Dylan drummed his fingers against the door. “Still, I wish we had the name of the town to go on.”

“You got that right, brother. Anything more than what that lousy miscreant gave would have been nice.”

“Look.” Jesse pointed to a dark-blue pickup coming up the road on the other side of the median.

Wade’s eyes narrowed.

Dylan scanned the vehicle, though little could be seen this far away. It would most likely sail past, its passengers praying for safe passage. But just in case, they kept their eyes glued to it.

The truck seemed to be flying by until it was directly across from them.

Tires squealed as the driver yanked the wheel toward the Southbound lane, then barreled through the grassy strip separating the lanes. The driver blared the horn over and over.

“What the—,” Wade said as he pushed back in his seat, reaching for his rifle.

Dylan whipped his head from the crazy vehicle to the scene around them. Was this an ambush?

“It’s Kelsey!” Jesse pushed himself to the edge of his seat, pointing.

Wade slammed the breaks so hard they squealed. Dylan and Jesse grabbed the seat to avoid hitting the dashboard.

The caravan behind them followed suit. Blue smoke and the smell of burnt rubber wafted over the area.

Kelsey’s big, blue truck jerked to a stop in the middle of the grass. Her door flew open, and she jumped out.

The girl raced up the small incline, tripping twice as she came. Tears streamed down her face as she shouted for them.

“I’m here! I’m here!”

Wade and Dylan leaped from their seats with Jesse close behind, closing the gap between themselves and the girl. Kelsey wrapped her arms around all of them, clenching them as if she’d never let go. “I found you!”

Dylan wrapped an arm around her. The little thing trembled so hard she could hardly stand. He looked her over, relieved to find she didn’t look hurt.

He hoped for news of Skye, but what the girl gasped out was almost incomprehensible. The only thing he understood was her plea, “Please, please don’t leave me alone.”

“It’s okay, Kelsey. We’re here. No one will hurt you now,” Jesse assured her.

Kelsey nodded and unwrapped herself enough to pull part of her shirt to her face, wiping it dry.

New tears immediately replaced the old, so she took a few slow breaths, hiccuped, and tried to talk, but her tongue wasn’t in sync with her mind. Still, Dylan caught some words.

“Man . . . evil . . . Skye . . . experiment . . . help.”

Dylan swallowed and crouched in front of Kelsey. He stared at her, asking the question he’d hoped he’d never have to.

“Kelsey, is Skye still alive?” His voice wavered with emotion.

Kelsey nodded over and over.

Dylan sagged with relief.

“Skye is alive. She needs us,” Kelsey said with a rush. “She needs us now!”

Dylan ran for the truck.

The rest followed and when Kelsey tripped once again. Jesse helped her up. “Is it okay if I help you?” he asked her.

“Please. I can’t seem to walk straight.”

Dylan pointed to two men and barked out, “You two. Take Kelsey’s truck and follow along. She’s in no shape to drive right now.”

Dylan and Wade returned to the front seat as Kelsey and Jesse hopped in the back.

“How far away are we, Kelsey?” Dylan asked.

“Not all that far. A few hours.”

“Can you show us a good place to stop before we get into their territory?”

“I can do that.”

“You need to tell me everything.”

“Yes.”

Dylan stuck his hand out the window and banged on the side of the truck, then pointed ahead.

He set his jaw and said, “Let’s go get her, boys.”

Thirty-One

Choices

Skye watched Kelsey as she shimmied down the sheets. It broke her heart to leave the girl. Kelsey was like a daughter to her, and who knew when, or if, they would ever see each other again.

Her heart dropped to her stomach as another knock sounded.

After one last glimpse of the girl, Skye choked back a sob and grabbed up some of the bedding she had just dragged out onto the balcony.

Skye flew back into her room and threw the bedspread over the bed, making sure no one would be able to tell the sheets were missing.

The knock came again, more insistent this time.

“Coming!” Skye yelled as she’d mussed her hair, hoping they would assume she was sleeping.

As quietly as possible, Skye dragged the chair she’d leaned against the door back away from it. She cleared her throat twice as if she’d been sleeping as she turned the doorknob.

Sydney and a male guard stood outside the door. The male guard looked irritated. “Just getting ready to bust this door down.”

Sydney was polite. “Sorry, seems I caught you at a nap.”

“Yes, I was.” Skye rubbed at her eyes.

“The Doc needs you back at the lab.”

Her heart pounded. What did Devon want now? “Mind if I go to the restroom before . . . ”

The other guard narrowed his eyes and scanned the room.

Skye glanced over her shoulder, realizing with a start the curtains were open enough to show the bedsheets blowing on the balcony floor.

If either of the guards moved even a few inches closer to her, they would spot it too.

Skye waved a hand. “You know what? I’m fine. Let’s go visit Dr. Shade. The sooner I’m there, the sooner I’m can get back to sleep, right?” She smiled at the guards, hoping to ease any suspicions.

“Okay, then,” Sydney said, motioning Skye out in front of her.

Skye breathed a sigh of relief when both guards followed behind her. She dropped back to walk beside Sydney. “I thought I was done for the day.”

“Yeah. Well, Doc got all excited about something and wanted another blood test.”

The butterflies in Skye’s stomach slowed down. A blood draw was easy enough. She’d rather fluids be going out than going in. Skye scratched at the spot of the injection Devon had given her earlier. She peeked under the bandage. It was red and blistery.

Sydney noticed. “You doing all right?”

“Yes. This is just a little weird.” Skye pulled the Band-Aid open for the woman to look at it.

Sydney winced, then immediately smoothed her expression. “I’m sorry that’s happening.”

“Sydney?” Skye’s voice quivered. Did that mean she would soon be like those others?

“Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”

But Sydney didn’t sound convincing.

When they arrived at the lab, Devon sat on a stool, hunched over a large microscope. He took his time before addressing them.

After a couple of minutes, Devon swiveled toward them. “Skye. We completed the DNA portion of your blood test. Both you and Kelsey had some fascinating results, but I want to rerun it just to be certain. If it comes back the same, well, let’s just say you are a fragment more than you ever dreamed you were.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

He scowled. “It turns everything I believed upside-down. It may, however, be why you’ve survived. And as I have gotten this result before, I need to face that it is true.”

Skye eyed Devon. He’d said Kelsey’s test also showed these results. Had he sent someone to her room too?

Devon walked to Skye and put a hand on each of her arms, staring at her.

When Skye couldn’t take it anymore, she stared back. “I don’t know what you want me to do here, Devon.”

“I’m just searching, determining if I can see any differences.” He barked out a laugh.

Had whatever he found finally broke him? And what was he going on about? Would his ramblings lead to more of the injections that had ignited the fiery blisters on her skin?

Unsure if she should encourage or discourage him, Skye changed the subject. “The injection site from whatever you gave me is hurting.”

Devon made a face. “Yes, it will do that. I’ll give you something to help it before you leave. And I think we’ll put any more injections on hold for a couple of days.”

So encourage it and change the subject back. Skye nodded and tipped her head toward the microscope. “This seems important.”

Devon gave a wild chuckle as he readied the needle. “It is. Very important.”

Skye sat and waited patiently for Devon to take her blood. He took more than the first time, leaving her light-headed.

She hung her head until, out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement in the hallway.

A nurse pushed a long metal table covered with a sheet out of the room she had snuck into—the outline of a body under the white material.

Which one of those poor victims was that?

“Don’t look at that, Skye,” Devon said. “No sense in dwelling on the failures.”

Failures? Skye scanned Devon. Was that is all he saw?

Devon misinterpreted her gaze and gave her a gentle smile. “We are done for today, Skye. You go back to your room and get some sleep. We’ll talk some more tomorrow.”

Skye glanced at the receding body. Each day was precious in this place. She scratched her arm. If the testing started back up, how many more would she have left?

As Sydney took her back to her room, Skye watched for any panicked guards searching for Kelsey, but there were none.

It seemed Devon hadn’t called for Kelsey this evening—at least, not yet.

Skye had said goodnight to Sydney and sagged against the door in relief. She walked to the balcony and scanned the grounds. When there was no one, she looked out into the distant darkness.

Kelsey had made it! But where was she now? Still in town, or further out?

Skye gathered up the bedsheets scattered across the terrace, ready to throw them over the edge. Should she follow her?

If she did, it might further endanger Kelsey.

Skye closed her eyes and lowered her head, letting the gentle sound of the ocean waves soothe her as she pondered this out.

She ached to leave.

If she left, without a doubt, Devon would scour the countryside for them especially after his excitement over the latest test.

If she stayed, he might be content enough to let the girl go.

She had to give Kelsey the best chance she could.

Only by doing that would Dylan have a chance of finding her.

With a heavy heart, Skye walked back into her room and shut the sliding door.

She remade the bed and laid down, imagining Dylan’s strong arms—supporting her, loving her as only he could do.

Tears rolled, unchecked, over her cheeks.

Had he beaten the infection?

Maybe they weren’t supposed to be together now, but later—in a better place.

Skye let her mind wander over that possibility and soothe her.

But a part of her rebelled. She wasn’t ready to leave this earth yet. And somehow, she knew Dylan wasn’t either.

Things needed done. This evil place needed erased from the face of the earth before either of them would go easy to their rest.

Eventually, her troubled mind released its grip. She hugged her pillow to herself as she drifted to sleep, trying to ignore the empty spot near her heart that only Dylan could fill.

It was still dark when Skye woke with a start.

Someone stood over her—a gun pointed at her head.

Thirty-Two

Worlds Collide

Skye gasped, pulling in enough air for a scream. The young blonde woman slapped a hand over Skye’s mouth.

“No!” she hissed. “I will not hurt you.”

Skye glanced from the slim, blonde woman to the weapon and back again. “You have a gun.”

The young woman tipped the weapon up and looked at it. “Yeah, well, it’s not a killing gun. It’s like a stun gun. You’d just be out for a while.”

Skye frowned as the gun moved back to point at her forehead. It didn’t look like any stun gun she’d seen before. This one looked more like the real thing—though the dark blue color and the longer, thinner barrel was a bit off.

The young woman narrowed her eyes. “So are we good here? It makes me sick to point this thing at you. It’s not something I’d normally do.”

“Then why are you?”

The blonde waved her arm toward the door. “It’s just this place—it’s never what it seems to be.”

The statement seemed to sadden her, and her beautiful features turned downward.

Ok. So she wasn’t happy with what this place did either.

Skye nodded. “I know what you mean—and yes, we’re good.”

The girl dragged the office chair over to the bed and plopped down on it as Skye sat up.

When Skye threw her legs over the side of the bed, the woman brought the gun up again. She waved at Skye to move her legs back up. “I’m sorry. I can’t really trust you yet.”

Skye quickly complied.

Yet. So, there may be a chance this young woman would help her.

“Who are you?” the blonde asked. “And why are you here?”

“My name is Skye Jackson, and I’m from the West Virginia hills. They brought me here against my will.”

The blonde woman brought a hand to her forehead.

Skye studied her. Though smaller than Skye, she had the advantage of a weapon.

Besides, if she had skulked in here like this, she certainly wasn’t a friend of the infamous doctor.

The enemy of her enemy was Skye’s friend.

“Can I ask your name?” Skye asked.

“Oh, sorry. Of course. Sonora. Sonora . . . Orca.”

“Orca? That’s an unusual name.”

“Well, I’m from the Orca Clan now.” Sonora waved her hand and murmured, “Not that you’d understand any of that.”

She was right. Skye didn’t understand. Was it native? Local?

“What are you doing here?” Skye asked.

Sonora threw her arm out. “I came up here for a stupid necklace, a few family things we left behind when we went—Well, when we left.”

Sonora ran a hand through her hair. “This isn’t supposed to be happening! Ian is going to be so mad. There is a cure! What happened to the cure?”

“You mean the one Doctor Shade is working on?”

Sonora’s mouth dropped, and she gaped at Skye. “Devon? Uncle Devon is free?”

Skye startled. This young woman was related to that monster? “He’s here, in charge of whatever this is.”

“I’m not talking about his—" Sonora rapidly swept her hand through the air. “—evil nonsense. There is a cure. We left a real cure here with the military. They should have delivered it to everyone.”

Skye shook her head. “I’ve never heard of another cure. I mean, there were a few crazy ones tossed around on the news. One even supposedly from Atlantis.”

Sonora’s eyes widened, and she pointed her finger at Skye. “That’s the one! What happened to that one?”

Oh, great. The girl was as delusional as her uncle. “I don’t know. Nothing came of it.”

Sonora stood and paced as she again ran a hand through her straight hair. “What? I don’t even know . . . how this happened. I have to go.”

Skye jumped to her feet and grabbed for Sonora’s arm. The blonde woman stepped back and almost tripped but still managed to raise her gun.

Skye raised her hands in surrender. “Please don’t leave me here! Take me with you!”

“I won’t be long. I’ll be back within twenty-four hours—with help. You can’t go where I’m going. I don’t have the extra equipment. And if you leave, it will alert them something’s up.” Sonora reached out and gave Skye’s hand a quick squeeze.“I’m sorry.”

“What help?”

Sonora glanced out the window, and Skye followed her gaze. The sea was in a rare mood. The water tossed and turned as if it were as restless as she felt. Spray flung high into the air as two waves crashed into each other.

“You’re not going to believe this. And when you see them, it’ll seem crazy until it doesn’t anymore,” Sonora explained. “My husband, Ian—his people—are big and strong. They’ll save you.” She flung out her arm. “They will save everyone here. I promise!”

Skye closed her eyes, praying that even a little of what the woman said was true. “How will I know them?”

Sonora giggled. “Oh, you’ll know them. They will be unlike anything you’ve ever seen.”

She gave Skye’s hand one last squeeze and walked out the door, locking it behind her.

Skye dropped back onto her bed and covered her face with her hands. What had just happened?

Almost nothing about the interchange had made sense, except the young woman’s promise to come back for her. And even that was strange.

But the brief conversation gave Skye hope. Every day she was here, she was closer to death. She could feel it.

She prayed that Sonora, the conversation, and the rescue were real. It could come even sooner than anything Kelsey could bring.

Skye tossed and turned for the rest of the night. She would’ve sworn she didn’t sleep at all, but she must have.

Because when she woke, it was to the sound of sirens.

Thirty-Three

Alarm Bells

Skye jolted upright. Were the alarm bells for Kelsey? Or Sonora?

Sydney and two other guards burst into Skye’s room, guns raised.

Skye pushed back against the bed’s headboard, hands raised.

The guards scanned the room, balcony, and bathroom.

She watched them in silence, her heart thundering.

A guard walked over to Skye and grabbed her hair. “Where is she?” he shouted.

“Who?” Tears of pain flooded Skye’s eyes.

“You know who!” He shook her for emphasis.

“I don’t! I really don’t!”

She couldn’t tip them off about either Kelsey or Sonora.

The guard leaned closer, almost spitting his words. “The girl! The little girl in the next room!”

Skye wished he had meant Sonora. She didn’t know where she’d gone. “I don’t know where Kelsey is.”

He tightened his grip on her hair, and Skye’s scalp burned. She pushed at him. “Please! I don’t know!”

“Cliff,” Sydney said as she stepped closer. “I don’t think she knows.”

Cliff stared at Skye before glancing at Sydney. “She does,” he said.

Cliff turned his attention back to his victim. “It’s Sydney who will be punished for this, and you know how he is. Sydney will be fortunate if she lives a month.”

“I’m sorry.” Skye glanced at Sydney’s pale face. “Kelsey could be anywhere. I don’t know where she is.”

Sydney moved toward Skye. “Kelsey is important, so important. We need her—both of you—for the cure. Doc will be irate when we tell him she’s gone. I can’t even imagine his reaction.”

Skye dropped her gaze to the floor.

Still clenching Skye’s hair, Cliff shook her head.

She moved her hands to his wrist, hoping to slow him. But Cliff slid a hand under her jaw and pulled Skye off the bed. She gasped. Her skull flared with pain.

Dylan’s lessons were instinctive now, and she raised a knee.

The guard jumped back, pulling her with him at first, then pushing her away when she tried again.

A chunk of hair ripped from her head. Skye yelled and flung out a fist.

It caught Cliff beside his eye.

The three came after her, and she scrabbled back onto the bed, practically hugging the headboard.

She looked for a weapon, but there was nothing.

They had all the power here.

“Wait,” Sydney said, “we can’t hurt her without his permission.”

Cliff waved her back. “When he knows what she did, he won’t care as long as we don’t hurt her too bad.”

“I don’t think she knows anything,” Sydney said. “And I don’t want to do this. She’s my responsibility.”

“You’re too soft on them. That’s what got you into this mess. You go on outside and I’ll take care of this.”

Skye shot the woman a pleading look. “Please, Sydney, don’t let them hurt me. I really don’t know where Kelsey is!”

“Ignore her,” Cliff growled. “It’s her or you. And she’s dead meat, anyway.”

“I’m sorry, Skye,” Sydney’s voice wavered as she apologized. “In this place, a person needs to look out for themselves.”

Skye’s heart fell.

Her arms flailed as Cliff and another guard grabbed her and pulled her to the end of the bed.

She struggled to sit up.

Cliff sharply slapped the side of her face, slamming her back onto the bed.

They hauled her up and landed another blow. Skye grunted as she fell.

“Sydney, help me! Please!”

Sydney kept her eyes glued to the floor and ignored her.

They pulled Skye up, again and again, each slap harder than the last.

On the fifth, Cliff’s iron grip held her shoulders as he shouted, “Where. Is. She?”

When Skye only shook her head in denial, he curled his fingers and punched her in the face.

Skye puddled at their feet, her head ringing.

He pulled her up and balled up his fist again.

This time red fire burst from behind her eyeballs. Pain—unlike any she’d felt before—rushed through her skull.

When Cliff shook Skye, her head wobbled. He let go of her. She dropped to the floor into darkness.

When Skye woke her clothes were soaked through to the skin. Her head ached. Everything seemed wrong.

She moved a hand, sloshing water. What was she doing in the tub?

She frowned and looked up at the three guards standing over her.

“No, no!” she murmured.

Cliff glared down at her. “You have two minutes to decide what’s going to happen next.”

Skye raised one of her wet hands to the side of her throbbing head and winced.

The guard crouched to the edge of the bathtub. "It’s you or us, girl. And we will have answers.”

Skye sobbed. “I don’t—”

“If you finish that with ‘know nothing’, it starts now.”

Skye sank her head to her sodden knees. There was no way out of this. She had to give them something. “I saw her leave. That’s all,” she whispered.

“Good girl. Now tell us more.”

“There is no more.”

The brawny guard wrapped a hand around Skye’s throat. “There is more.” He smiled. “I don’t want to do this. You are making me do this.”

Skye took in his expression of delight. It wasn’t true. He enjoyed torturing.

When she stared at him, he tightened the hand around her neck and pushed down toward the water.

Skye flailed.

Water slapped the sides of the tub and splashed over the edges, soaking Cliff.

He held her head just above the water. It edged along her cheeks.

He pushed her closer.

Water crept toward her nose and mouth. Skye clawed at his hand.

At a nod from Cliff, a second guard held her legs.

“What else do you have to say?” Cliff barked.

Skye shook her head.

“What else? Last time.”

Skye pressed her lips together. There was nothing she could say that would make him happy.

Cliff shoved Skye until her head hit bottom. Her already shaken brain pounded. She let out an unheard scream. Bubbles floated to the surface.

Cliff’s muffled voice drifted to her. “I wouldn’t do that. I’m keeping you down no matter how much air you let go.”

Skye wrapped her hands around his thick arm, clawing at it.

The hard man’s image waved above her. Would he kill her? Would Devon even care? The scientist could get all the blood he wanted if it no longer needed to sustain her.

Skye’s lungs strained. She resisted the need to inhale, but she didn’t have long. What could she tell them?

Nothing about the note Kelsey left at the pawnshop. Never that.

But something—enough to satisfy them.

The need to inhale grew almost unbearable. She tightened her grip on Cliff’s arm.

He chuckled.

Her body begged for a breath. Skye flailed, kicking the stomach of the guard who held her feet.

Cliff’s eyes brightened. He raised her head and banged it against the iron tub again.

Skye almost gasped. Her brain swirled. Her lungs burned with need.

Her body began its fight for life, Skye felt it shudder and buck. She banged on Cliff’s arm, hoping for some kind of mercy.

There was none.

The man watched her with intense interest, his face covered with glee.

She lost focus. Skye’s nose and mouth quivered.

Left with no choice, she inhaled—not precious air but an invading enemy—water.

Liquid filled her nose and ran down her throat.

Her body trembled. It seemed odd and out of sync with the rest of her. As if an entity of its own, it shuddered as it realized what was happening.

She was dying.

Strangely, something like relief filled her. It was out of her hands now.

On Skye’s third quake, Cliff raised her limp body out of the water and laid her over the side of the tub, hooking her ribs over the edge. He pounded her back so hard that some small part of her, somewhere in the recesses of her mind, was sure her ribs would break.

Skye didn’t move, but drifted in and out of consciousness, certain Cliff’s banging would only hasten her death.

How she wished she could have seen her Love one more time. Hear his rumbling voice calling her darlin’, telling her everything would be okay.

Cliff thumped her back again. What did he think would happen? She was too far gone for this to help now.

Skye slipped head-first toward the floor.

Cliff pulled her limp body over his knees and thumped on her back some more.

When the liquid came, it came all at once—just like with the AgFlu. Water streamed from her mouth and nose, hitting the floor with such force it bounced back at her.

Skye pushed against the floor with weak arms.

Cliff shoved her back down.

Skye choked and sputtered, but only pulled in a tiny ribbon of air. She stilled, careful not to lose that lifeline.

Gradually, she choked out the water. Her lungs still burned, but this time it was a good burn—it meant she would live.

Again, she pushed against the floor and away from Cliff. This time he allowed it.

After a few minutes, she used the lip of the tub to stand.

“Where do you think you are going?”

Skye waved toward her room.

Cliff crossed his arms and laughed. “We’re not done here yet. You’re going back into that tub.”

Skye wilted and shook her head.

“Skye, you haven’t told me what I wanted to know yet,” he said, scolding her as if she were a child. “This won’t be over until you cooperate.”

Skye covered her mouth to stop the sob that threatened.

Cliff reached toward her.

She flinched.

He ran a finger down her wet hair. “It’s simple, honey. Just tell me something, and this will be all over.”

Skye stared at the floor.

“Fill the tub. Cold water,” Cliff told the other guard.

Skye listened to the rush of water, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Something. She had to give him something.

She felt his eyes on her, waiting for her to break.

When the tub was full, Cliff stood. “Come on. Get in there.”

If he thought she would voluntarily step in there, he was crazy.

She refused to budge.

With rough hands, he pulled her up. When she fought him, he slapped her until her head rang.

He slammed her into the frigid water. “Tell me!”

Panic overtook her.

He recognized the instant she broke. A satisfied gleam lit in his eyes.

Cliff pulled her head from the water. She reached for him. She would have reached for anyone to get out of this situation.

“Please,” she begged, her teeth chattering, her mind screaming. A wrong move on her part now would mean she would go under the water again. Cliff was waiting for any excuse.

He held a hand to her throat. “You know what you have to do.”

“Please.” She wrapped her arms around his. “Let me out and I will tell you everything.”

“Tell me now.”

“I’m afraid you’ll kill me, anyway.”

“Oh, honey. Where’s the fun in that? Almost killing. That’s where the fun is.”

Skye laid her head against his arm and cried.

Cliff ran a hand over her long, dark hair. “It’s okay now. Just say it and I’ll get you out of here. Okay?”

Skye nodded. She couldn’t do this any longer. She needed to say something now.

Skye’s raspy voice quivered. “We said if we escaped, we would go home.”

“Where is home?”

Skye hesitated. She needed to stay close enough to the truth that he would believe her, but far enough away for Kelsey to be safe. Her hesitation earned her punishment.

His hand tightened around her throat.

“West Virginia!” she gasped out.

“Where in West Virginia?”

“Fenton.” Skye almost mumbled the word. The Interstate forked at Fenton. If everything went well, Kelsey would have made it past there by now.

The guard stared at Skye.

Tears started again, flooding her eyes. “That’s all I know. We didn’t have a plan. We didn’t, I promise.”

Skye stiffened as Cliff pulled her close to him, his breath drying the wet skin on her face. “Devon thinks you are his, but you’re mine now, you got that? I broke you.”

She wanted to fight and punch and scream that it wasn’t true, but that would only get her further punishment. Instead, she stayed still, as if happy to be there. Let him think what he wanted.

Sonora had promised to be back within the day. Kelsey was out there trying to get home. Someone would help her, even if she could not help herself.

Cliff rested his hand on the back of her bruised head, smoothing his hand along it as if the movement would stop the hurting.

“Come on, let’s get you up and out of these wet clothes,” he said.

She tried to stand twice, but her shaky limbs refused to work.

Cliff smiled, happy with his results.

“It’s okay,” Cliff said as he and the other two guards removed her wet jeans and t-shirt, leaving Skye in her underwear. He wrapped a large towel around her, picked her up, and carried her to the bed where he gently laid her.

“Here.” Cliff shoved a glass of water and some pain medicine into Skye’s hands. “You’ll want this.”

Skye wanted to resist every supposed kindness. The man was trying to condition her. But she had no strength, and she needed the medication.

Skye glanced from one guard to the other as they settled into chairs.

A knock sounded at the door, Cliff opened the door to two more guards. One he ordered onto the balcony and the other to stand outside in the hallway. Sydney stood across from the bed, eyes on the floor.

Tears rolled over Skye’s face, soaking her pillow.

Five guards? How would she ever get home to Jesse and Dylan now?

Skye closed her eyes and imagined Dylan’s arms holding her tight.

She drifted to sleep, to the sound of his voice telling her everything would be okay—he was coming for her.

Thirty-Four

The Table

Skye woke to Cliff standing over her, his rough hand shaking her shoulder.

“Doc wants to see you,” he said.

An icy shiver ran down her spine.

She threw Cliff a glance and mumbled, “Don’t touch me.”

He burst out laughing. “Make me stop.” But he walked away.

With care, Skye stood, making sure the towel Cliff had wrapped around her stayed in place. She picked up some clothes and went into the bathroom.

Cliff stared at her but didn’t stop her.

Once she’d closed the door to the bathroom, Skye let the towel drop as she looked in the mirror.

Her forehead had a large bruise as did the side of her face and her neck.

Skye ran a hand over her stomach where light bruising had started. She poked at it and winced.

After examining her tender scalp, she gingerly combed her knotted hair.

Outside the door, the guards talked and laughed. Skye sighed. She’d done everything she could so they would trust her, hoping for less supervision, and now this. Four guards. And Cliff.

Skye clung to the sink, refusing to slump to the floor in despair.

How would she get through this? Was day after day be like this, at the mercy of Devon and Cliff, until she ended up like the people on those metal tables?

Skye tried to push away her depressing thoughts. Other people had gone through worse. She’d handle what they threw at her somehow. But her fears pressed back, refusing to leave.

Skye raised her teary gaze to the mirror and imagined Dylan there.

She ached for the vision to be real—yearned to turn and feel his firm embrace around her.

She couldn’t have that—not right now. But she could still take strength from him.

“What’s done is done,” he’d say. “Now, what are ya gonna do about it?”

She couldn’t wallow in her feelings. She needed to move ahead. Skye would have to regain trust somehow.

“I hope I make the right choices, love,” Skye whispered as Dylan’s image wavered. “The ones that lead me back to you.”

“Stay alive, darlin’. I’m coming for you.”

Skye sobbed as he disappeared, leaving only her beaten face in the reflection.

After wiping her tears away, she pulled on her jeans and t-shirt while berating herself for losing focus.

She needed to keep Dylan shoved in that little corner of her mind until she was ready to let him out. A clear head is what she needed. The emotion he evoked was overwhelming.

But even as she scolded herself, memories of him flooded her.

His slow smile, the way his eyes brightened when he saw her, evenings by the fire.

Skye pressed her lips together and held back the sadness.

She told herself that Dylan was fine, he was on his way, and soon she would be out of this evil place. Then they would go to the mountain together.

That was it. That was the story—their story. She just had to get through one hour at a time until she heard his voice.

She pushed against the countertop, standing as straight as her hurt stomach would allow.

After making sure she tucked Dylan away, Skye walked out of the bathroom.

Cliff stood just outside the door.

Skye almost vomited.

Of course he was.

“We will not tell Doc about our little fun here. You got it?”

She narrowed her eyes at Cliff. “I want some breakfast.”

Cliff nodded his head at one of his underlings, who handed her a protein bar.

Skye looked at it with a wry expression. “You’d think the world would be out of these by now.” She tore the wrapper open and choked the dry granola bar down.

Cliff motioned everyone toward the hallway and positioned two guards in front of her and two in the back as if she were a dangerous criminal. Cliff walked beside her.

Skye kept her eyes on the floor as she steamed. It was a show of force. Cliff wanted her impressed.

She was not.

As they got closer to Devon’s lab, two guards broke off while the other two escorted her in.

Devon eyed the group before his gaze landed on Skye.

“Where is Sydney?”

“Sick,” Cliff answered.

Devon nodded before going to Skye and taking her hands. His gaze slid over her bruised face, then ignored the injuries.

“Skye, dear, I have such news to tell you! Sit, sit.” He pulled her to the desk, waving her into a chair. Devon scooted another chair from behind the desk closer to her.

His eyes were bright, almost feverish. “Do you remember our conversation about the Atlantians?”

Skye wanted to sigh, but pressed her lips together and nodded.

This again? But if it made him happy to prattle on about imaginary beings, she would let him.

“Of course you do,” Devon continued. “We all have common DNA with them. They are, after all, mostly human, though I am loathed to admit it on most occasions. However, as I mentioned before, Atlantians also have DNA humans don’t have. But then, some humans like yourself have more DNA in common with them than others.”

Devon’s explanation seemed disjointed. Was he sliding further into his delusions?

He frowned. “I’m not sure how that happened, though I have my suspicions. But you, Skye, you share some of that same mysterious DNA.”

He waited—as if she’d won the lottery and should jump up and down—before going on. “People like you will help me clarify the mysteries of the disease.”

Oh, really? Clarification. Was that what we were calling torture?

Skye rubbed at the fiery boils lingering on her hand.

Perhaps if she could dissuade him from this fantasy, he would stop the experiments.

“Devon, how would I have gotten this DNA?”

“From an ancestor, of course.”

A memory flashed, but she scoffed at the idea and pushed it away. “But that makes no sense. I’d know about something like that.”

Devon waved his hand at her. “Leave those things with me, dear. I’m an expert. Just know you’ll be treated like royalty here because you, Skye, are going to save humankind.”

Skye’s stomach clenched. “And how am I going to do that?”

“We are going to see how strong you are.”

“Strong?”

“I’m going to give you every disease known to humankind and chart each one. I’m going to see if you are closer to them or us.”

Sickness rose in Skye’s throat. “How long will this take?”

“Years, dear.” His eyes shone as he answered. “It will take years.”

Skye’s gaze grew wider as she scanned the room. Already syringes lined the countertop. A tray full of scalpels and other shiny medical tools sat on a wheeled cart beside the dreaded metal table.

Skye jerked in a breath and held it. Then spoke in a rush.

“Devon, what use is this? Most people either had the AgFlu, or they haven’t. Soon, it will go just as so many other types of flu left. We don’t need a cure.”

“Yes, Skye, we do.” Devon shook his head, a grave look in his eye. “I know we have lost a lot, but we can still save most of humankind.”

He still thought the world was full of people. When was the last time he’d left this building?

“No, we can’t. Most of the world is empty now. I’ve been out there. I know.”

Devon chuckled. “Tsk, tsk, Skye. There is no getting out of this. We cannot delay.” He rose and walked to the metal table. He patted it. The table gave an ominous ring. “Hop up, Skye.”

Skye jumped to her feet. Her chair scraped backward as she glanced at the door.

Cliff and another guard barred her path.

“No, Devon. Let’s talk about this,” Skye gasped.

“I’ve never felt that talking solves anything.” Devon nodded to Cliff, and the guard moved toward Skye.

She scrambled backward. “You can’t allow this, Cliff. He will murder me.”

Cliff shrugged. “I don’t care what he does to you as long as me and mine do okay.”

It was useless. She knew it. But it wouldn’t stop her from trying.

Skye turned and ran down the long room toward the door Devon often disappeared into. Maybe there would be a way out there.

Cliff and the guard’s footsteps slapped the tile floor behind her.

Skye focused on the door. She was almost there. Reaching out a hand, her fingers grazed the cool silver knob.

Something hard exploded against the back of her head.

Skye dropped into darkness.

Thirty-Five

A Slim Chance

Skye blinked her eyes at Cliff’s image as it blurred above her. Her head still rang from the blow.

Cliff grabbed her trembling body from the floor, walked to the metal table, and dropped her onto its surface.

Skye’s head bounced, the steel and her skull ringing. Her ankle caught the bottom lip’s edge. Pain radiated around it.

Skye let out a scream that became a groan as darkness swirled around her.

She fought the blackness. Who knew what they would do to her if she passed out?

Skye tried to pull her foot up over the table’s edge.

A guard reached out and took both legs, holding them down.

Skye cried out, “My ankle. I think it’s broken.”

“It’s okay, dear. You won’t need to do much walking.”

Regardless of his words, Devon pushed the guard out of the way and looked at her foot. Skye ground her teeth and moaned as Devon rotated it.

“No. Not broken.” He patted her leg when he released it.

“But it hurts so much.”

“It’s fine. Pain can be good for us sometimes.”

The guard returned to his position and took her legs again. This time he seemed to have a sliver of empathy for her, and with a loose hand, held her hurt ankle.

Devon walked up to the head of the table, trailing his hand along it as he moved. “We’ve never had a female of your species here before. This is going to be interesting.”

“What are you talking about? I’m human!” Her voice broke.

Devon picked up a scalpel and inspected it. “Hold her down.”

Skye fought as the guards moved to either side of her.

With little effort, the big men pushed Skye back onto the table and held her there.

She squirmed, wrenching her arm from the guard on her right.

Cliff grabbed her head, squeezing it between his hands. “Each time you cause trouble, I cause trouble. Do you want me to show you?”

Skye glanced at Devon, hoping for help, but he simply waited for Cliff’s demonstration.

After everything Cliff had already done to her, she had no doubt he could hurt her.

“No.”

“Be good then.”

Skye squeezed her eyes closed. The metal instruments clacked against the tray beside her as Devon decided what to start with.

When it stopped, she opened her eyes.

Devon was coming at her with an IV stand. A bag with dark, almost ink-colored liquid swung from it.

She groaned as Devon wrapped a tourniquet around her arm, searching for options but finding only one.

She didn’t have to be awake for the cutting.

Skye gathered up as much saliva as her dry mouth could produce and spit in Cliff’s face.

For a moment, everything was still. Then Devon laughed. The other guards followed suit, chuckling under their breath.

“She’s a tough one,” Devon said, sounding like a proud father.

Cliff raised Skye’s head and shoulders off the table and slammed them down with such force Skye was sure her skull had broken in two.

Her brain flashed as if short-circuiting—everything came in pieces.

“See,” Cliff’s disjointed voice whispered during a flash. “I do what I want. He won’t stop me now.”

Everything turned dark—then light and dark again.

In the next flash, Devon stuck her with the IV needle. “Did you know, dear, that your people have larger hearts and lungs than humans do? It’s going to be interesting to find out if you also have them.”

The light left and returned.

She twisted her head, trying to examine her body. What had happened while she was unconscious?

But did it matter? She was as good as dead. She’d be a lifeless corpse soon.

If Devon didn’t kill her, Cliff surely would.

In fact, she would anger Cliff until he did. Then she wouldn’t suffer years of experimental torment.

Skye eyed the ominous IV now attached to her arm.

“Don’t worry,” Devon said, “only a bit of pain medicine. You see, I can be merciful.”

Skye eyed the grey-black bag. Pain medicine? Doubtful.

The scientist leaned closer to Skye. “I’m going to be digging a little deep today, so I thought you might need it.”

Her stomach turned, and a moan escaped her.

Something. She had to think of something.

“Devon, I’m not Atlantian. I have my—my family tree thing at my house. I can take you there. It goes back hundreds of years.”

“No need. DNA doesn’t lie, dear.”

Tears rose, flooding her eyes. She shook her head from side to side. “They aren’t real. Atlantian’s are not real. This is part of a disease. You have a mental disease, Devon. I’m a physiological doctor. Remember that.”

Devon stiffened. “It’s not my imagination!”

“Devon, I’m sorry. Atlantians aren’t real—just like Martians aren’t real.”

“They are!” His face flamed. “You just haven’t seen them!”

Cliff raised Skye’s head and waited for a signal from Devon.

She had one chance to say the right thing. “Then show me! You are going to do all this to me? I want to see one!”

Devon waved a hand. “Ask the guards, they know.”

“Have they seen one?”

The room got quiet. The guards shook their heads.

Skye threw down the challenge. “Show me an Atlantian, Devon. Not a picture of someone on a table. A real, live Atlantian swimming in the water!”

“Then you’ll cooperate? No problems?”

Devon continued his work, injecting an orange liquid into the IV bag. The color dissipated into the black.

Skye seemed queasy already.

Devon picked up a second vial.

“Yes,” she barked—anything to get him to stop. “I’ll cooperate.” Skye didn’t like to lie, but these were extreme circumstances.

Devon put down the vial. “Let her up, boys.”

Two guards hauled her over the lip of the table and dropped her on her feet.

Her ankle gave way, and her head swam.

Cliff reached for her.

Skye pushed him away. “Put me down! You make me sick!”

“You just wait until he gives me full leeway with you.” Cliff gave her a hard stare as he swung her up into his arms.

Skye suppressed the urge to vomit, ducked her head, and refused to look at him again.

As ill as Cliff made her, he wasn’t the biggest problem at the moment.

She needed to convince Devon he was mentally ill—seeing there was no substance behind his belief of Atlantians may do that.

Skye twisted to look at Devon. “How many people have seen an Atlantian?”

“Millions. They were on the Internet!”

Skye sighed. There had been some odd pictures circulating during the AgFlu crisis. “Devon. That was a hoax.”

“No. It was not.”

“Most people believe it was a prank. Some of your own people could be laughing at you.”

Devon glanced at the guards.

“Perhaps,” Skye pressed, “if you want your people to believe in what you are doing here, all of them should see this Atlantian.”

One guard uttered a low chuckle.

Devon came to an abrupt stop and narrowed his eyes.

“Seeing is believing, they say,” Skye added, hope rising.

Devon gave a quick nod. “Maybe you’re right. This place has grown since the pandemic’s beginning. It would be helpful for new ones to understand our primary purpose is to find a cure. That this isn’t only a place to find good shelter and abundant food. We are more than that.”

Devon started walking, his pace quickened.

Cliff zeroed in on Skye. “What are you up to?”

“You don’t want to look at one?” Skye mumbled.

The reality was she didn’t know what she was doing or if this would work, but it had gotten her off that table. Her best hope was that everyone would see that this so-called Atlantian was fake and revolt.

Skye’s heart soared as Devon waved a guard over and said, “Go on ahead of us. Tell them to gather everyone by the big tank.”

She had a chance. A slim one, to be sure, but it was something.

Thirty-Six

So Close

Dylan hiked his crossbow a little higher on his shoulder. He, Wade, and Kelsey stood on a small hill overlooking the town of Seaside. He’d left Jesse behind with Paul and the others, and the boy was spitting mad about it. But this wasn’t the time to troop the entire group through the brush. This was a scouting mission.

Dylan scanned the area. Seaside wasn’t a big place and could just as easily have been a small mountain town if one judged it by size alone.

But it was much more colorful or had been. His gaze lingered on the broken pink and orange umbrellas strewn across the streets, the bright blue window shutters hanging haphazardly by what looked like a single screw, and the overturned brilliant green lawn furniture.

A storm had gone through here. A bad one. But a while ago.

Dylan ran a hand over his chin. Apparently, there weren’t enough townsfolk to clean up, or they didn’t care anymore. Either way, there would be no help from this town. His men were on their own.

Kelsey pointed to a large concrete building sitting so close to the ocean that the blue waves almost lapped at its gray walls. “It’s there.”

Dylan nodded. It didn’t surprise him. The huge dome seemed out of place—much like an eerie house on a hill. It was imposing—and would be tricky to get into.

Dylan crouched and picked at the short seagrass with his fingertips as he examined it.

There were no windows on this side—only four large double entrance doors and a couple of single glass doors. Large wood planks sat on the right side of the building, presumedly to cover the glass. No doubt these people would lock this up tight if they sensed danger.

And activity—way too much activity for sneaking in on this side.

He blew out a breath. Maybe the other side?

Kelsey had told him about the rooms with balconies facing the ocean. Maybe if they waited until evening, they could get Skye out that way.

Dylan ran a hand through his hair and groaned inwardly. It was killing him he was this close and wasn’t able to storm in there and get her.

His eyes narrowed. Who knew what they were doing to her in there? Kelsey had spoken of experiments.

Ice slid down his spine. He couldn’t think about that now. He needed a clear head.

Kelsey moved to sit cross-legged beside him, patiently waiting for his take on the place.

“This doesn’t look good,” he said. “Remind me of the back again.”

Kelsey made a face. “Our rooms are three stories up. We’d need a grappling hook to throw up there.”

Dylan grunted. No better than what she’d said the first time.

Wade shifted, scraping his foot against the sandy soil. “Maybe we could get Skye’s attention. Have her throw out some sheets and shimmy down like you did, girl.”

“They may expect that now.” Kelsey rubbed her cheek. “What about going in the front? I could act like a captive. Once we’re in, I know where to go.”

Both men bristled at the idea. “Ain’t no way, that’s happening,” Wade blustered. “You just get that outta your head right now, you hear?”

Kelsey threw a hand toward the building. “But look! We don’t have many choices.”

Dylan understood. The front doors were open, and people trooped in and out of them on a regular basis. More than once they’d seen victims dragged into the building by scruffy-looking men.

Dylan looked at Wade and himself. They’d fit in, but there’d also be problems. Dylan shot a glance at Kelsey. “And what if they take you away when we get in there? Then we’d need to be tracking you down too—and you’d be no good gettin’ us around the place.”

Kelsey sighed. “Well, then, you’re going to have to come up with the idea.”

Dylan chuckled. The way the girl said it was like they hadn’t been doing that for years. Dylan patted her on the shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Kelsey. We’ll manage to piece somethin’ together.”

“Brother,” Wade said as he looked over his shoulder. “is this going to be one of those long stakeouts you like to do? Cause if so, I’m gonna need me a Coke. I saw a machine up there, and I’m fixin’ to get me a bottle.”

Dylan didn’t answer at first. Wade always did get antsy when he didn’t have something to do, but it’d be nice if occasionally his brother would give a man a minute to think.

He waved at Wade. “Go get it, if you want. Get me a water. And Wade—don’t go anywhere else.”

Wade blew out an irritated breath. “I ain’t a little kid you gotta boss around.” He scuffed his feet as he walked away.

The corner of Dylan’s mouth curved. Once Wade had his Coke, he’d settle.

“Get me one too, please,” Kelsey said to Wade’s retreating back.

He waved a hand at her.

Dylan watched people come and go from the Marine Center. A group would go in, there’d be a lull and another group would drive into the parking lot.

Kelsey was right, it was their way in, but Dylan didn’t want to put her in jeopardy even if the girl was sure it was possible to slip into the hallways and rescue to Skye.

Dylan winced. It hurt to even think of Skye’s name.

Who would’ve guessed that he’d ever be so hung up on a woman? But he hugged those feelings close to his heart, clung to them as if he was a drowning man grasping at some last bit of driftwood.

It didn’t matter that he’d been brought up to think love was a weakness. That was wrong, and he knew it now, even if it did try to crawl back into his head from time to time.

Skye had shown him there was strength in love, not weakness. And she was his love—his everything.

He would save her. Or die trying.

He was here, and she was right there in front of him. He had to get into that building and bring her home.

“Here, D,” Wade said as a heads up right before a bottle of water came sailing Dylan’s way.

Wade noisily sat on the ground with his legs out in front of him and handed Kelsey a Coke.

“So I had an epiphany,” Wade said as he twisted the cap off his bottle, smiling at the rush of air.

Dylan looked over at Wade and frowned. “An epiphany?”

“Yeah, it means a big idea.” Wade took a long drink of his soda with his eyes closed and sighed in contentment.

Dylan scoffed. “I know what epiphany means. I just wondered if you did.”

When Wade put the soda to his lips again, Dylan stopped him. “What? What’s your idea?”

“Kelsey doesn’t need to be a captive. But she’s too clean to fit in with the rough crowd down there. We need to dirty her up some, rip her clothes a bit, stick a cap on her. Then she could walk right in too.”

Dylan glanced at Kelsey.

Epiphany. This idea may just have been that important—close enough, anyway. Wade’s idea would be saving lives.

“Okay,” Dylan said. “Let’s go with your epiphany.”

Twenty minutes later, Kelsey walked beside Dylan loaded with weapons and more unkept than the two brothers put together after a long winter’s hunting trip.

No one would be messing with her.

Dylan eyed the large front doors, happy they’d driven the truck in and it sat behind them in the parking lot. It’d be a quick getaway if they needed it.

He swapped a glance with Wade as he murmured to Kelsey, “You stick close and keep your eyes open, ya hear?”

She nodded, her knuckles white on the rifle she gripped.

“Let us know where to go when we get in here.” Dylan switched the box he held from his right to his left arm.

Most people took in something. If they didn’t have captives, they had boxes. Of what, Dylan didn’t know. But they’d stopped by a pawn shop Kelsey pointed out and picked up a few things that would, hopefully, be good enough to get them through the door.

The gray wall of the building seemed to grow taller as they got closer. Once he got a peek into the entrance, his heart fell.

People swarmed the lobby—many more than he expected. He’d planned for some small force of resistance. Twenty, maybe thirty men. Something his group could handle. Nothing on this scale.

The best he could hope for now is to sneak in and get Skye out, and that would be a lot trickier than being in control of the situation.

They were at the front doors when someone peeked out and yelled, “The Doc wants everyone in here. He’s gonna show us one of the mermen!”

Dylan shot a surprised glance at Wade. His brother’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline.

After the brightness outside, the inside of the Marine Center seemed dark.

Dylan gave his eyes a minute to adjust, then continued into the building. The lobby was massive—two stories high — and echoing with the noise of excited people. They had pushed old props and tables against the walls to make room for the crowd.

To their right were the ticket counters and restrooms. To the left was a solid wall that opened onto a large tank filled with murky water. Everyone gathered there.

Dylan set the box on a table and pushed it toward a woman.

She flustered. “I was just going to watch—” The woman pointed to the crowd.

Dylan nodded. “That’s fine. We’ll check in after.”

The woman agreed and rushed away.

Their little group hung around the edge of the gathering, ready to bolt if necessary.

People continued to flood into the room from connected hallways. Dylan reckoned there were already about a hundred people, and he hoped it stopped soon.

He scanned the crowd, looking for Skye. If he didn’t find her, maybe this would be the opportunity to slip away to her room.

The crowd murmured, “The Doc’s coming.” As one, they turned to watch the hallway doors.

Through it came five men and Skye.

Dylan’s heart went into overdrive, and he vaulted forward.

Wade’s grabbed his shoulder, his fingers digging in as Dylan tried to shake him off.

“Steady, D. Steady,” his brother said.

Dylan clamped his jaw and stepped back—the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.

He watched, tracking every movement Skye made.

A man carried her. Why?

She had a hand to the side of her head. Was she hurt?

She was pale, so pale.

When the group surrounding the doctor reached the front of the crowd, the man who held Skye put her down.

She stumbled, and Dylan steeled himself not to run to her. The man beside her took her waist and arm to steady her.

Dylan practically growled as Skye pushed him away.

When he didn’t release her at first, she pounded his arm until he did.

Dylan's face turned thunderous. It appeared the man was trying to help Skye, but something was going on. The look she’d given him was pure hatred.

It was clear the men were the doctor’s muscle.

Dylan quickly identified and dismissed the infamous Devon Shade from his perfectly groomed hair to his shiny shoes. Separate him from his guards and the Doctor would go down with one blow.

Someone handed the doctor a megaphone, and he began to speak.

Dylan paid little attention, he needed to figure out a way to get to Skye.

A guy to his left glanced at him, then Wade. “Hey, do I know you two?”

Dylan hardly spared him a glance. “No.”

He didn’t have time for distractions.

Thirty-Seven

The Reveal

Skye eyed the large water tank as they weaved through the crowd, hoping it would somehow be her salvation. Calling out Devon’s belief in Atlantis could backfire on her, but it was the only move she had.

Once they stood in front of the glass, Cliff lowered Skye to the floor. She gasped and stumbled as her injured foot met the tile.

Cliff grabbed Skye’s arm to help her, but she shook him off. She would have none of that.

She slugged his arm. “Let me go!”

Cliff dropped his hand and rubbed the spot. “I’m helping you.”

“I don’t want you touching me. Most especially in front of these people—acting like you have some empathy instead of being the goon you are! I’d rather walk on a bare nub then have your help! You caused these injuries!”

“I can arrange that.” Cliff’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t need limbs for what Doc has in mind for you.”

Skye’s gaze widened, and she stepped away. The man was vile. “I’ve never said this to anyone before, but I would erase you from this earth if I could.”

“Same here, baby. But I’d send you off screaming.”

Skye edged away from Cliff, backing toward a blonde guard. Anyone was better than him. At least this one had done nothing to her.

Devon looked over his shoulder, shooting Skye and Cliff an irritated look. “Stop bickering. My goodness, you two are like competing siblings. Don’t worry—I have time for both of you.”

Skye shuddered. Did he really think that was what was going on? The man was becoming more and more delusional.

Devon waved Cliff to his side. “You stay here with me now. I need you to keep the crowd away. The others can watch her.”

Skye couldn’t believe her good fortune. Her biggest watchdog was relieved of duty.

She glanced at the large glass doors across the room leading to freedom. Could she somehow inch her way there and make a run for it? And would she make it on this ankle?

She had to try. It was her last chance at life. She had to go for it—or die trying.

Skye stepped closer to the blonde guard next to her, bumping her arm against his to make him think she was right where she should be.

She gasped as she put weight on her ankle. He looked down at her. “You okay?”

“Yes. I’ll be fine,” Skye said as she bent to rub her leg. Booking it out of here was out of the question.

She put some weight on her toes and found that less painful.

When Devon waved for someone to turn down the lights, Skye straightened and looked at the tank.

According to the placard, the massive aquarium had once held a pod of dolphins. But it was empty of sea life now, and cloudy. Evaporated water had left marks on the glass, and peering through its foggy depths was not as easy as it must once had been.

Movement at the top of the water drew Skye’s attention. Four guards surrounded a giant of a man. They poked at him with cattle prods, forcing him to walk onto a platform jutting a few feet over the pool.

The man struggled away from the guard’s weapons—but feebly—with much less strength than a man his size should have had. His slack features suggested they had drugged him.

A shimmering tattoo ran over one shoulder and down his bicep. When the light caught the design, it seemed illuminated. Even his skin seemed to glow as if he were the pinnacle of health instead of the emaciated form that stood before her.

Skye frowned. He was different—there was no doubt about that. Could Devon’s stories possibly be true?

She scoffed at herself. Of course not. And she couldn’t get sidetracked by this nonsense.

Excited cries came from the crowd and they surged toward the tank, taking her with it and almost pushing her into Cliff.

Skye glanced at the outside doors. They had gotten smaller as she’d tried to work against the crowd, but got nowhere.

A black light in the tank caught her attention. A guard waved it over the giant man’s skin.

Skye gasped when a colorful pattern emerged reminding her of a tropical fish. The crowd erupted in chatter.

Skye froze.

Sonora had said her husband’s people were huge, and like nothing Skye had seen before.

But how would Atlantians be possible?

Skye shook her head.

They weren’t.

But this odd man explained why Devon believed him to be some sort of mythical creature.

Coming to life, the captive man jerked from the light. When one of the guards screamed at him, he knocked the guard to the ground.

Devon raised a small controller and hit a button.

The giant dropped. His body quaking uncontrollably against the ground until Devon raised his finger from the control.

Skye groaned in empathy.

Devon chuckled.

Cliff turned toward Skye, his eyes bright. “It’s an implant for the troublemakers. You’re next.”

Skye shuddered and took a couple of steps away from Cliff.

Devon turned to him. “Stop scaring her, or I’ll put one in you.”

That sobered her tormentor up.

Skye moved closer to the blond guard. After a moment or two, she took one step backward. Then another.

No one stopped her.

The captive man lay on the platform as his guard continued to yell at him.

Where did Devon find these vile men? Were they always here? Or had the change in this world released the evil in them?

Skye knew the answer, but it wasn’t one she liked.

There had always been evil in this world, just waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.

But she refused to believe it was stronger, or in more abundance, than the good.

Good would always win. She had to trust that. Or she might as well give up right now.

Thirty-Eight

Impossible

When the guard finished bellowing, the giant man crawled to the water that gently lapped at the platform and slid in without a splash.

Bubbles appeared around him, almost hiding the large man from view, then dissipated, lazily floating to the top.

The anguished expression left. Peace and joy replaced it.

The water roused the man, and he swam, zipping from one side of the tank to the other much faster than Skye would’ve imagined possible. He undulated through the water, feet together, arms at his side. The tattooed man’s muscles strained with the effort, but it was clear he savored it. The sight was mesmerizing.

Devon tapped the button.

The captive jerked—his gaze shooting to the scientist.

Devon waved him to the front of the glass.

The giant man made his way forward, staring at the crowd. Did he look them over, searching for some sympathetic soul?

He closed his eyes as if disappointed and seemed to become one with his watery surroundings again.

Skye stepped backward again and again until a woman gave a small cry when she stepped on her foot.

“I’m so sorry!” She mumbled as she shuffled to the woman’s side.

Skye quickly looked toward the guards, hoping the woman hadn’t drawn attention. But to Skye’s delight, they were further away than she’d thought.

The woman gave her a quick smile of forgiveness and continued to stare at the captive. “Amazing, isn’t he?” she said.

Skye nodded and took another step backward. She glanced behind her. She’d come about halfway.

There were so many more people between her and freedom.

She straightened her shoulders—she would make it. With everyone’s attention focused on the giant man, she would be out of here in no time.

Devon held up a stopwatch and brought a megaphone to his mouth. “Five minutes without a breath!”

There was a murmur through the crowd.

Five minutes? Had that much time really gone by?

Skye narrowed her eyes as she examined the large captive hovering in the water. It couldn’t have been more than a minute or two. That was the average time a person could hold their breath.

Skye tried to move again, but the knot of people around her tightened.

She changed direction, inching her way across to the wall. From there it might be easier to fight the crowd. She made it a few feet before she was stuck again.

Skye tried to scan the room, but her height worked against her. She swiped at her sweaty neck. Any minute Devon or Cliff could realize she had left their side. One order to the crowd and they would immediately find her.

Devon held up the stopwatch again. “Ten minutes without a breath!”

Skye stared at the captive hovering in the tank. He showed no sign of distress.

Devon knocked on the glass and motioned for him to swim.

Back and forth, at greater and greater speeds, he went. Skye stood transfixed. How was this possible?

The swimmer changed his pattern, circling the water in the huge tank. The water worked its way into a whirlpool.

Skye shook her head, trying to deny what was right in front of her. The man had no way to breathe, and yet he was able to do this?

And the speed! She’d never seen a person swim that fast.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce you to The Atlantian!”

Another quick tap by Devon on the control and the man stopped and returned to the glass. The water swirled around him, but he held steady.

Skye stared at the captive. His size, his skin, his strength. They were everything Devon had said they would be. Her eyes zeroed in on his brawny chest. It should heave with exertion.

It didn’t.

His chest didn’t move at all.

Impossible.

The crowd surged ahead, taking Skye with it despite her attempt to stand her ground. This was her chance to go.

Hoping her ankle would hold out, she lowered her head and pushed through the crowd, squeezing past person after person—until someone too solid blocked the way.

One large hand wrapped itself around Skye’s mouth as an arm snaked over her ribs.

“Shh,” someone murmured in Skye’s ear.

Skye’s gaze widened.

The crowd thinned as the man carried her backward.

She kicked with her one good foot—almost catching the man’s kneecap.

“Settle, ya little she-cat!” The man uttered a deep, relieved chuckle. “It’s me, darlin’.”

Skye sagged with relief, wanting nothing more than to turn and drink him in.

Could this possibly be true? Dylan here, holding her as she’d dreamt of all these days?

His woodsy scent surrounded her, and Skye breathed it in.

When he readjusted her in his arms, she wrapped hers around his neck and stared at him to reassure herself he was real.

Dylan carried her back to the wall where Wade and Kelsey waited.

The girl was so dirty, Skye needed to do a double-take to recognize her. The white teeth of Kelsey’s grin shone in her grimy face and Skye smiled back, comforted to see her.

“You made it!” Skye whispered to Kelsey.

Dylan lowered Skye but kept an arm around her. Wade lined up on her other side for support.

“Hey, Sis,” he said with laughter in his eyes. “You gotta stop runnin’ off like this.”

Skye gave him a wide grin. “I’ll try.”

She couldn’t stop the tears flooding her eyes when Dylan put a hand to his own injury. This trip had cost him. She hoped not too much.

The four of them stayed inched against the wall past the crowd.

As they reached the outer doors, Devon yelled out, “Twenty minutes!”

Skye threw a glance at the captive and looked at Dylan. “Do you see that?”

Dylan stared at the tank dumbfounded and shook his head. “I don’t know what I’m seeing.”

The four of them slipped out of the door and ran across the parking lot—Skye between the brothers.

Wade helped Skye into the car while Dylan rushed to the driver’s side of the truck.

Once the vehicle doors slammed shut, Skye glanced back at the Marine Center. No one had followed them. Yet.

Dylan squeezed her thigh. “How hard are they gonna be looking for you, darlin’?”

As he started the truck and maneuvered toward town, Skye answered. “Pretty hard. They think I’m like him.”

Puzzlement covered everyone’s face.

Skye put up a hand. “Yes, I know. I’m not. But Devon is convinced. So we need to. . . ”

“Get the heck out of dodge, I’d say,” Wade said.

“The faster, the better,” Dylan added before clamping his jaw and hitting the gas.

Thirty-Nine

Back with You

Dylan sped through the town with little care. If any guards had been posted out here, they were probably at the Marine Center for the big show.

He leaned into Skye, breathing in her scent, as she wrapped her arms around him. His heart floated now instead of being sunk somewhere in his middle, hard as a rock.

They’d done it.

Skye and Kelsey were out of that place and now they could head home, back to his green hills as fast as they could.

Skye hugged him a little tighter. “I was… Dylan, I can’t even express everything I’m feeling right now.” Her voice trembled.

“I know, darlin’, I didn’t fare too well myself. I worried that I’d never find you, especially when I found out you were states away.”

“Just you and Wade came?”

Dylan shook his head, a smile spreading across his face. “No, darlin’. I couldn’t hold those mountain men back. There’s a bunch of them up ahead. We were only supposed to be scoutin’ this time, but it was too good an opportunity to pass up.”

“How in the world did you get here so fast?”

Kelsey piped up from the back seat. “Wade ran into those jerks who kidnapped us and beat it out of them.”

Wade puffed his chest. “Yep, left ‘em tied to a tree. I hope they’re still stuck there.”

“Well, Wade, I’m glad you found us, no matter what it took. And I won’t feel sorry for men who trade others as if they were no more than a bushel of potatoes.”

Skye’s gaze turned back at Dylan and kissed his cheek.

He glanced at her, a smile on his face. “Can’t wait to welcome you home properly. Get that ring back on your finger.”

Skye gave a wide grin. “I’m glad Jesse and the ring made it home safe. I can’t wait to see my boy.”

“He’s spittin’ mad we left him behind with the other men. But one kid was enough.”

“Hey!” Kelsey said, “I did good, and you know it.”

Dylan glanced at her in the rearview mirror and chuckled. “You did great, but it’s an extra responsibility. I’d hate for something to happen to a young ‘un on my watch.”

Skye twisted in her seat to grab Kelsey’s hand. “Without you, I’m not sure they would’ve found me. You were so brave!”

“I’m glad I caught Dylan and the others on their way down here. And I’m not sure brave is the right word. I was terrified is what I was.”

Skye searched Kelsey’s face. “What happened?”

“Obstacles,” the girl said, refusing to divulge more, “but I overcame them.” The girl gave a wan smile and glanced at Wade. “Gotta roll with the punches, right Wade?”

“You got it, girl! The bigger they are, the more you roll. You did awesome.”

Skye turned back and snuggled against Dylan. “It was awful in there. The things he is doing to people.” She rubbed at the Band-Aid covering her hand.

“What did he do?” Dylan frowned as he glanced from her hand to her face.

“That doctor. He’s doing awful experiments on people—supposedly for a cure to the AgFlu. But medical torture is what it is. In one room . . . ” Her voice trailed off, and she shuddered. “It’s what Devon planned for me and Kelsey. He showed me a file of what he’d done to one Atlantian. It was awful, Dylan. Terrible.”

Dylan pushed his fingers through his hair. This guy, Devon. How long would he get away with this?

A niggling started somewhere in Dylan’s gut, but he tried to ignore it.

It didn’t help when Wade offered from the back seat. “We need to go back tomorrow and take care of those guys, D. They’re nothing but trouble.”

And if what Sue Ellen thought was true. That these men were poaching people all the way up on Cole’s Mountain—his mountain. That they were the ones who shot him.

Dylan’s jaw hardened.

But he didn’t have enough people. And no matter how much he wanted to take these people down, he wasn’t at his best. Far from it.

No. They lived states away from Seaside. Once they left this area, the mad scientist wouldn’t be an immediate concern. The best way to save the community was to hightail it home and close ranks. Make sure those scouting for this place recognized the mountain was off-limits.

Behind him, Wade continued to bluster, but Dylan ignored him.

He had to.

Dylan’s hand moved to his own injury as a fiery jolt went through him when they hit a pothole. It was still healing—still hurting more than he let on.

He wasn’t up to a fight—not yet anyway.

The best he could do right now is hunker down with his loved ones until he was full strength.

He changed the subject. “So that’s what we’re calling them then? Atlantians? Are we believing that?”

An open window tousled Skye’s hair, and she brushed it back as she answered, “I don’t know what else to think. Here’s the thing. I saw the file, and I didn’t believe it, but seeing that tattooed man in person, seeing what he could do—how can we deny it? And there’s something else.”

Dylan raised an eyebrow.

“A young woman, Sonora, snuck into my room early this morning. She seemed to know the place and was shocked it was still there. Devon is her uncle, and she said he was in jail. Sonora said there already was a cure. And get this—it was the one we saw on the news, the Atlantian Cure.“

Skye frowned when Wade was about to interrupt, stopping him. “I know! I know it seems crazy, but she was credible. She said she and her family had left. So I wonder, where did they go? Atlantis? She said she came up here for some things they left behind. Up here? It all fits.”

Dylan rubbed a hand over his jaw. “So, you’re thinkin’ she’s one of them? An Atlantian?”

“I don’t know. She was no bigger than me unless it’s just the men who are larger. I supposed it’s possible, I mean look at some of our basketball players, they’re tall.” Skye bit her lip. “I doubt they are aware one of their own has been left behind.”

“Well,” Wade said, “We don’t know them. Maybe they just cut their losses and left him there.”

“I don’t think so,” Skye disagreed, “because Sonora said she’d come back for me, and she doesn’t even know me.”

“She’s coming back to rescue you?” Dylan asked.

Skye nodded. “And bringing her husband and his family. She said they were all big and fighters.”

Dylan squinted his eyes and looked out the side window. If that girl came back looking for Skye and got hurt because of it . . .

Still not his problem. If she had a big, powerful army to back her up, this Sonora would be fine.

Dylan gnawed on a fingernail. He sure couldn’t fight worth anything if he wanted to, not with this wound. He just wanted to go home.

Dylan turned into the driveway of the house where the rest of the group waited. He got out of the truck and walked to the back yard overlooking the ocean and the big gray dome that the mad scientist called home and others called hell.

From here, it looked no bigger than a coffee cup—but it still looked like trouble.

And the more Dylan heard, the worse it got.

The door of the house sprang open and Jesse flew out and down the porch stairs. He ran into Skye’s outstretched arms and hugged her tight.

Skye squeezed the boy close, her eyes closed, pure happiness warming her face.

“Jesse,” she breathed out his name. “I worried so many times over the last few days that I’d never—I’d never— “

She pulled him tighter as she cried.

“I wanted to go with them and find you, Mom, but they made me sit here and twiddle my thumbs.”

Skye kissed the side of his head and ran a hand over his hair. “I know, Jesse. But it’s fine now. Everything worked out just fine.” Skye put a hand on either side of his face and gave him a watery smile. “I’m just so happy to see you.”

Forty

The Love of His Life

Later, the group sat in the backyard of an abandoned house. They gathered around a low campfire hidden by trees and ate vending machine food they had scrounged up.

Even though Wade continued to rally the troops for a fight, the decision had been made to leave in a couple of hours, traveling by the dark of the night. Most agreed that any battle they began could only be won with more men and weapons than they had available. For now, they kept a lookout for anyone searching for Skye.

Skye slumped in her lawn chair, exhausted from the past few days, and dozed as the others discussed the problem.

When Skye stirred, Dylan took the chair beside her, handing her some aspirin and a bottle of water. “Here, darlin’. We’ll get Doc to look at you the minute you get home.”

Skye nodded as she swallowed and sipped—her eyes on the ground.

He stared at her. Something wasn’t right. “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“There’s something. Is it your face? That’ll heal, darlin’. It just needs some time.”

“It’s not my face.”

Dylan brushed her hair to one side and kissed her bruised forehead. “What then? It’s okay to tell me.”

“It’s just... all those poor people under Devon’s control—hurting so badly. I wish we could help them now.”

“We ain’t got enough manpower. The few of us against one hundred or more. You saw them. We gotta go home. Get safe. We’ll come back when we can.”

“I understand. But that kind of evil,” Skye pointed to the domed building near the ocean, “doesn’t just go away. It grows larger and larger unless it’s exterminated. It will catch up with us.”

Dylan looked at the ground. It already had. She just didn’t know it yet.

Dylan’s gut writhed with every thought of the place and what those evil people had done, both here and in their invasion on Cole’s Mountain, but he couldn’t do anything about it right now.

“Skye.” He steeled himself for what was coming.

“I want to go back.”

And there it was. Dylan sighed and pulled away. “Naw. We’re goin’ home.”

Skye stared at him. “You didn’t see them. People are suffering terribly because of what he’s doing."

“You really think we outta go back after them now with the odds so stacked against us?”

“Don’t you?”

Dylan’s gut screamed yes, but he raised an eyebrow. “How many can we really help?”

“Does it matter if it’s two or two hundred? They need us. I can’t even describe to you . . .” She swiped a tear rolling down her cheek.

Dylan’s expression fell as he pulled Skye toward him. How could he fight her on this? She’d almost been one of them. Everyone in that building had someone who worried about them as much as he’d worried about Skye.

“There’s a lot of firepower in there.”

“You don’t think we can beat them? Can we think of a way?”

Dylan stared into her big green eyes that begged for his help. This wasn’t just about that place down there. She’d never actually gotten over the fact that she had let Calvin go and still considered herself responsible for the people he’d killed because of it. No doubt, if they walked away now, she’d feel the same, no matter what he said.

He put an arm around her and pulled her to his side.

She groaned and put a hand to her bowed head.

“Skye, what is it?”

“You’re not going to like it.” She pulled away and put a hand on her ribs.

“Tell me.”

“I wasn’t a cooperative patient. That guard, Cliff, banged me up pretty good.”

Dylan’s face hardened as his gaze skimmed over her. So, her bruised face wasn’t her only injury.

“The back of my head.” Skye gingerly felt the back of her skull. “I passed out more than once. And this.” She lifted her shirt enough for him to see her purple stomach. “But that isn’t all.” She bit her lip.

Dylan’s eyes narrowed as she scratched at her hand for what seemed like the millionth time. “Did he inject you?”

“Yes.” She nodded, tears in her eyes. “Something—I don’t know what. But that roomful of dying people had this all over their body. I don’t know—I don’t know what that means for me.”

Fury ignited a red-hot flame in Dylan’s belly. He swallowed some of it down just so he could speak.

This was no longer some nameless, faceless victim. This was the love of his life they had hurt. His body went rigid—his muscles like bands of iron.

Through a clamped jaw, he growled, “They need ended.”

Forty-One

Introductions

Hope flared in Skye. The sooner Devon was taken down, the better. She wrapped her arms around Dylan. “I know, love,” she murmured as she laid against him. “You’ll make sure Devon and Cliff never hurt anyone again.”

“And make sure he tells us what he injected you with so we can get it treated.”

She tipped her head toward Wade. “You should talk to your brother.”

One glance and a nod of Dylan’s head and Wade was at his side.

With Dylan’s declaration of war, Wade uttered a single word. “Finally!”

The three stared at the moon-lit dome below them.

“I’m so fired up I wish I could tear through the building right now,” Dylan said.

“I hear ya, brother,” Wade agreed.

Dylan looked at Wade, then threw a glance at the good men around the campfire. “We have fighters, but not enough.”

Wade nodded. “And if we go in with explosives, we might hurt some good people.”

“We need to be careful,” Skye said. “We’re there to help them.”

Dylan and Wade continued to throw out options. When the driveway gravel crunched behind them, everyone instantly became quiet.

Everyone whirled toward the sound, weapons drawn.

Standing in the drive was a dark-haired, very tall, muscular man, dressed in a dark blue uniform. A weapon similar to a rifle hung over his shoulder. He held one hand up in greeting while holding a small blonde woman behind him with the other. She struggled to get by him.

Skye smiled when she recognized the woman and started forward. “Sonora!”

Dylan grabbed her arm to stop her.

The younger woman waved, a big grin covering her face. “Hi! I’m so happy—“

The man in front of her barked something in a language Skye didn’t understand.

Sonora made a face and continued. “—you’re out of that place. Are you okay?”

“I am. I think.”

Sonora almost made it around Ian, but he swatted her back again. She punched him in the arm and complained, “You big brut.”

Dylan looked at Skye with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s Sonora,” she explained. “The woman who said she’d save me. They’re friendly.”

“We don’t know that. He has a weapon.”

“Of course he does. But he hasn’t drawn it. But you two continue to aim yours at them.”

“He could have others with them.”

“Dylan! They are friends.”

Skye almost laughed when Sonora succeeded in escaping the large man, only to have him grab the back of her knee-length sky-blue dress. She stopped immediately, and Skye didn’t blame her. It didn’t look as if the light material would survive a tug-of-war.

“Woman!” The large man said, “You make a dignified entry impossible.”

“Ian, you don’t need to impress them. They are friends.” She shook her dress. “Now let me go.”

Skye watched the war of wills. “Are you okay, Sonora?”

“Oh yeah, this is my husband. He doesn’t always play nice with Humans—including his wife.” Sonora turned to scowl at him. “He’s still upset with me for coming up here without him,” Sonora pretended to whisper to Skye.

Ian gave an exaggerated sigh. “I had reason to be upset. You put yourself in danger. However, I will release your dress if you vow to stay by my side.”

Sonora threw up her hands. “Fine. If that will help things move along.”

“It will, Jata Ara. I appreciate your cooperation.”

Ian turned to Dylan and Wade, scanning them from head to feet. “I am Caspian of the Orca Clan,” he proudly introduced himself, “though most call me Ian, and from Atlantis. Do you know of my people?”

The brothers stared back at Ian.

Wade scratched the scruff on his chin. “Well, maybe?”

Ian’s eyes lit with amusement. “That is a start.” He nodded toward the Cole’s weapons that still pointed at him and his wife. “Can I assume we will not be firing upon each other?”

Dylan and Wade glanced at each other and lowered their weapons.

“I’d also like to introduce my lovely—and impatient—bride, Sonora. Originally from the town of Seaside, though, I have persuaded her to be my mate. Not an easy task, I assure you. As you can see, it can be quite exhausting to keep her at my side.”

Sonora threw Ian an irritated glance, but when he turned a gaze of utter devotion toward her, the irritation faded, and adoration took its place. She wound her arm through his and patted him.

“May we approach?” Ian asked.

Dylan nodded, and the couple approached as he introduced himself. “I’m Dylan Cole. This here is my fiancé, Skye Jackson, our son, Jesse, and my brother, Wade. The others are our friends.”

Wade waved back the group that had gathered behind them. “Let’s give ‘em room, boys. They’re friendly.”

As Ian reached Dylan’s side, he stared down the hill at Seaside. “Gentlemen, I’m assuming you are discussing the situation below.”

“Yeah,” Dylan said, giving Ian a cautious look.

“My family and I would like to help with that. We believed the situation under control until recently. We would like to help finish what we started. Let me explain what I mean.”

While the men talked, Sonora made her way over to Skye. “Did my uncle do this?” she asked, pointing to Skye’s bruised face.

“One of his henchmen, Cliff.” Skye could barely utter his name.

Tears sprang to Sonora’s eyes. “I’m so sorry. We had him arrested and thought he was in jail. I mean, he was, but with everything that happened, he must have gotten out somehow.”

“What he’s done isn’t on you.” She hoped the young woman believed her because she was about to find out a lot more about Devon’s evil side.

Forty-Two

Atlantis

More than once as the group talked, Ian’s gaze lingered on Dylan and Skye. Eventually, he spoke his mind. “Both of you are injured. Are you able to fight?”

“I’ll do what I need to do, don’t ya worry about that,” Dylan blustered.

“Your willingness is not in question,” Ian said, his expression earnest, “your physical ability is—and only because we can fix it.”

“He was shot and barely survived it,” Skye said. “How can you help him?”

“Did you bring a healer?” Sonora asked her husband and explained that it was a doctor’s tool.

“Unfortunately, I did not. But I believe a trip back to Atlantis may do us all good. Skye is not only bruised. Something deeper moves inside her. Do you feel it, Skye?”

Tears came to her eyes. A dark shadow had taken up residence in her since Devon’s final injection. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t banish it. Instead, it had grown and with it had come pain. Ian was right, something was wrong with her—very wrong.

“Can you help me?” Her voice came as a whisper, as if afraid the thing inside her would hear and bury itself deeper.

“Our doctors are the best in the world,” Ian assured her.

Sonora walked over and hugged her. “Oh, Skye! They really are the best. They will help you. I just know it.”

Ian stood. “Then that is what we will do. Go to Atlantis, see the doctor, and gather our army and return ready for war.”

Wade stood, looking stunned. “Wait. What? Not Atlantis—like under the underwater Atlantis?”

“The very one.”

“I ain’t going.” He folded his arms. “I’ll just wait right here.”

Dylan stood, groaning a little as he did so. “I’d be doin’ the same, but for Skye and for this wound in my side, that’s getting worse by the hour. Ian is right—I can’t fight like this, bro. Just can’t do it. I’d be more of a liability than anything else.”

He patted Wade on the back. “I understand if you want to stay, but I sure could use you at my side.”

Wade ran a hand over his face and shuffled his foot. “Of course, brother. If you need me, you know I’ll be there.” He threw a glance at the dark water below. “I ain’t looking forward to this one though—not at all.”

“It’s better if we all stick together,” Dylan explained.

“That means I get to go?” Jesse asked, his eyes bright with excitement. “This is awesome!”

The group gathered their things and piled into their vehicles—some with dread, some with excitement. But one thing was clear, anyone who had scoffed at stories of Atlantians before was a firm believer now.

Forty-Three

The Sea

Dylan had never disliked the water until now. Raised in the mountains, he’d had little experience with anything much bigger than a large pond, but he did know how to swim—in regular water.

But this ocean he stared at now was nothing like the pools of water back home. This first glimpse of the sea would be memorable in more than one way. Not only would he see the topside but the underside too.

His shoes sunk into the soft sand as he walked from the parking lot to the water’s edge, the suction reminding him a bit of mud.

Dylan stopped where the sand mixed with water and became firmer and took in the sight before him.

From where he stood to the horizon, the blue liquid rolled and twisted before it kissed the land, only to pull away from the very place it’d been trying to reach.

He dipped the toe of his shoe in a small pool left behind. He’d heard people say the ocean was calming. It didn’t seem that way to him.

Instead, it reminded him of how he’d felt when he and Skye were separated—anxious and unsettled.

Ian stepped up beside him. “First look at the sea?”

“Yep.”

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

Dylan stared as a large agitated wave blindly smashed onto the beach, throwing spray and foam into the air.

“It’s something, all right,” he said.

Jesse rushed by him straight to the water’s edge, running alongside it and waving his arms as he tried to yell louder than the crashing waves.

Dylan smiled. It was good someone was enjoying this.

Skye entwined her arm with his. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know.” He kicked at the sand.

“You don’t have to like it. It’s not a requirement,” she said, the corner of her mouth turning up.

“It’s too—I’m gonna use a big word here—turbulent. It seems uneasy.”

Ian nodded, a solemn expression covering his face. “You have read her well. Our sea has many moods, and each day is different. Today, she is uneasy. No doubt she senses the evil residing so close and is eager to see it gone.”

Dylan looked down the beach to his left, where the glint of lightbulbs could be seen. Did the mad scientist actually need to generate that much electricity? Or was it a lure to draw more innocents in?

“Eager as I am, I’d say.” Dylan’s jaw hardened.

The group of humans startled and moved backward as five Atlantians surfaced from the water, walking toward them.

Ian raised his hands. “It is fine, my new friends. These are my people.”

He turned and talked with the new arrivals in a gentle language, then interpreted. “They have brought us vehicles.”

When the group muttered uncertainly, Sonora reassured them, “They are very nice. Kind of a cross between a mini-van and little submarine.”

Ian sent her an exasperated look. “It is not a mini-van.”

“I know, dear. I just want them to understand they will be comfortable.”

As the Atlantians waved them toward the water, Dylan took a moment to put his hand to a massive red rock wall beside. The plaque on it read, “Spire Cliff.”

“This is what I’m used to,” he said to Skye. “Solid around me. Solid under my feet. Dependable.” He bent back, looking to the top. “It looks as out of place as I feel.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Skye said as she laid her head on his arm, “this makes me nervous too, even though I have been on the ocean before.”

Dylan’s gaze zeroed in on hers. He’d been so concerned about himself he’d given her worry no thought at all. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I didn’t even ask about your nerves. But I’m thinking that if this heals us, it will be worth it.”

“It will.” Skye nodded and pulled him toward the water.

Getting to the vehicles was both easier and harder than Dylan expected. The Atlantians had brought the vehicles as close to shore as possible, and into an area protected from most of the waves. However, everyone needed to wade out to them.

The Atlantians made their way through the choppy water with ease, but the Humans had more trouble.

Skye clung to Dylan as they trudged their way through waist deep water to the vehicle, but she quickly lost her strength.

As Dylan bent to pick her up, two large Atlantians appeared beside them. “May we assist you.”

Dylan’s gaze narrowed at them. It was his job to make sure his woman stayed safe. He ignored them as he lifted Skye only to feel pain shoot down his side so intensely that he almost dropped to his knees.

“We understand,” one Atlantian said. “We will treat Skye with respect and have her at your side as soon as possible.”

“It’s okay, love. I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Skye added.

Dylan reluctantly surrendered her but kept an eye on her as they moved away.

When he arrived at the water vehicle, Dylan grabbed the edge of the hatch and hiked himself in. Beside him, the tall Atlantian gently set Skye on her feet and asked about her health.

“I did well. Thank you,” she replied.

The Atlantian’s gaze lingered on Skye a little too long for Dylan’s comfort, and he hurried to her side. “I’ll take care of my fiancé from here.”

The man gave Dylan a quick nod and stepped away.

Sonora offered them fresh, dry clothing. Dylan found it tempting since his jeans now seemed heavy and uncomfortable. He eyed the dark blue uniform most of the Atlantian males wore. Though their clothing looked like it had already dried, the thick material seemed to clingy for his taste.

Skye took a dress from Sonora and changed in a small room she pointed out.

When she emerged, Dylan caught his breath. The light material seemed to float down her body and around her bare calves. The green color brightened her eyes.

Dylan helped Skye into a window seat and took the one next to her. “Lookin’ good, darlin’,” he murmured in her ear.

Skye giggled. “Thank you. Are you sure you don’t want dry clothes?”

“I think I’d rather stay in what I have on then go around in one of those ballerina suits.”

Dylan peeked around Skye at the watery scene outside the windows and almost shuddered. He sure hoped this place didn’t take long to reach. Dylan grabbed Skye’s hand, then loosened his grip as he realized he had squeezed her fingers harder than he intended.

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “We are safe—truly safe down here. Devon will never find us. Let’s just enjoy that feeling for now.”

She was right. For the first time in a long time, no one could hurt them.

His tension evaporated, and he put his arm around Skye’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

He gave her a slow smile. “When you’re right, you’re right, Doc.”

She nodded and returned the quick hug.

Jesse and Kelsey jumped from the water onto the rim of the hatch and smiled.

Jesse rushed to take the seat across from Skye.

“Mom, that was pretty awesome!”

“It was.”

Wade followed close behind him as Kelsey took the opportunity to change out of her wet clothing.

“I ain’t gonna say it was awesome,” Wade said, “but it was better than I thought it’d be.”

He waved a hand at Jesse. “Am I gonna have to fight you for the window seat, boy?”

“Nope. Cause I’ve already got it.” Jesse laughed and ducked when Wade threatened to pick him up and move him.

“Hey,” the boy said. “You can’t pick me up so easy anymore. And besides, I got here first. You’re taller than me, so this is better, anyway.”

“Not that much taller, boy. And that big head of yours is in the way.”

Skye laughed. “Share nice, boys.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jesse replied as his eager gaze turned to the water again.

Forty-Four

Quite the Adventure

Skye took in the underwater scene. Blue—maybe blue-green, if she were precise.

Bits of seaweed and small sticks floated through the water close to the vehicle, while below sand stirred from the ocean floor. Visibility only went so far. It would have made her uneasy, if she hadn’t been out here with experts.

She’d always wanted to take an underwater tour, but had never gotten around to it. She’d imagined she’d be able to see a long way, just like a nice day on a hilltop. But that wasn’t the case. It was a few yards at the most before everything faded away into a darker hue of turquoise.

Ian zipped by the window on something similar to a motorcycle and took the lead of the caravan.

Jesse sat straighter, craning his neck for another glimpse. “Whoa, did you see that?”

“I did. Pretty cool, huh?”

“Way cool! Isn’t it, Dad?”

Dylan nodded. “I gotta admit if I were into under-the-sea riding, I’d like to try that bike.”

Wade twisted around to stare out the front window to where Ian had stationed himself in front of them. “Well, I’ll be! Wonder if that Ian would be willing to give a lesson on that thing.”

“He might,” Sonora said, “if we have the time. But be warned, he is very possessive of the vehicle.”

“Course he is! All men like to keep an eye on their rides,” Wade said.

“Especially one as awesome as that. I want a lesson too,” Jesse added.

“Uh, huh,” Skye replied. “Like Sonora said, if we have time. There are other matters to take care of first.”

Jesse sobered up. “Yeah, I know. But,” he said with a glint in his eye as he looked at Sonora, “we can visit again, can’t we?”

“Of course you can, as often as you’d like.”

Jesse sat back in his seat with a satisfied expression on his face.

After a while, Sonora sat forward. “You’ll see the city soon.”

“What I want to know, “ Wade asked, glancing at Ian again, “is how often that husband of yours takes a breath? He’s been sitting in the water now for quite some time.”

“It’s unnerving at first, isn’t it? I think, once an hour or so.”

“How the heck is that possible?”

“Over time, their bodies adapted to their environment. They developed the ability to drastically conserve oxygen.”

“Evolution?”

“No. Adaptation. The two are often confused, but adaptation happens in many species of plants and animals—even humans.”

A flicker of light against the deeper blue of the ocean caught Skye’s eye. As they drew closer, she pulled in a breath and sent Dylan a surprised glance.

“Look at the size!”

He leaned across her for a better look. “Just how big is Atlantis?” he asked Sonora.

“As large as a medium-sized Human city, but I think it seems bigger since there’s nothing around it to compare it to. It does take about twenty minutes to drive from one end to the other in a vehicle though.”

“Good lord,” Wade exclaimed. “How is this kept hidden?”

“As we get closer, you’ll see what looks like a fine net dome over Atlantis,” Sonora said. “That device can scramble any fish or depth finders, making the ocean floor appear very shallow and rocky so people avoid the area.”

“And this had been going on for how long?”

“For centuries. Atlantis isn’t their only city either. They have many, spread over the oceans.”

Wade slapped his knee. “Well, I’ll be. This is—it’s just too much.”

Dylan shook his head, agreeing with his brother.

“I understand.” Sonora gave a soft smile. “I thought I was going crazy when I first saw this city. But that was almost a year ago now.” She smiled. “The place grows on you.”

Skye leaned forward. “What can we expect?”

“Don’t worry. It’s nice, really nice and so, so safe.”

Skye leaned back in her seat. That is what she wanted to hear. She didn’t care if they hovered in the water in suits twenty-four/seven as long as they were safe.

She tried to ignore the burning itch of the bubbly rash on her arm. It was getting worse, and it was all she could do to stop herself from clawing at it.

The redness was beyond the bandage now, running up her arm with small blisters forming along it.

When she moved, something behind her stomach sent pain moving through her body. Whatever Devon had put inside her was growing—changing.

The sight of those tortured people came to her. Had her body started to decay even before death as those patients had?

Her heart skipped several beats, then rushed to catch up.

Was that because of nerves? Or Devon’s deadly cocktail?

She would’ve broken down in despair if her family were not around her. For them, she would put on a bright face and act as if nothing were wrong—nothing at all.

Skye gave Jesse an over-bright smile and raised her eyebrows. “This is quite the adventure, isn’t it?”

Forty-Five

The Best Thing

Skye wasn’t fooling him. Dylan felt her tenseness and noticed the many times her clawed hand reached to scratch her arm only to jerk it away.

Tears of pain crept from the corners of her eyes as she tried to distract herself by talking to Jesse.

Dylan stared at the underwater city in front of him. No matter what else it held, it had better hold the cure for whatever ailed Skye.

He’d finally found her, he couldn’t lose her again.

Two armed guards waved the driver through a large silver gate—the only way into the thin, netted dome.

Water moved freely from the outside to the inside of the dome. The city was more vertical than horizontal, with a watchtower rising high above it all. Because of that, roads seemed high rather than wide so that a vehicle was more likely to be above or below them rather than beside them. Not that there were a lot of vehicles. It seemed more people would rather swim.

The buildings and houses looked like something Dylan would have seen out of a history book. Old, some even ancient—though well taken care of.

The vehicle slowed near a building, giving it a light tap before shuddering to a stop. The driver stood and addressed them. “I have brought you directly to our hospital as instructed.”

Some murmured, a worried expression on their faces until Dylan spoke up. “Best thing you could’ve done. Thank you.” He meant it. The sooner Skye got the care she needed, the better.

Dylan pushed out of his seat, groaning as he did so. He wasn’t in the greatest of shape himself. He’d taken a peek under his bandage. The wound was starting to pus up again.

A side door on the vehicle slid open and two Atlantians stood beside it. One man held a hand to help Dylan out of the vehicle.

Did he look that bad?

Dylan scoffed at the man and took the step down on his own but without his usual confidence. He was weaker than he would’ve liked.

“Help her,” he instructed the Atlantian, jerking his thumb over his shoulder before turning and also helping Skye.

“Thanks,” he said, nodding to the man. Not only was Dylan grateful for his aid, but Sonora had mentioned that Atlantians were very polite and appreciated others following their example.

The man smiled and tipped his head. “It was my pleasure to be of service.”

Unsure what response he expected, Dylan just gave him another nod and moved on.

Skye clung to Dylan as they moved down a dry, oxygen-filled corridor. A few of the city’s residents spread out along it, watching them. Dylan narrowed his gaze.

But when Skye stumbled and Dylan struggled to catch her, two women rushed to their side to help and stayed close.

Dylan and Skye thanked them, and Skye sent a relieved glance to Dylan.

He understood then that the Atlantians were posted there to help them if needed.

Of course, he and Skye would be suspicious. It had become instinctive and necessary for their survival. Maybe here they could relax a little.

They guided the Humans into a large room where a woman invited Skye to sit in the nearest chair.

The area was massive containing several beds for patients. It reminded Dylan more of a Star Trek movie Wade had once dragged him to than any proper hospital he’d been in.

Skye pointed out her family to the medical staff, and they assigned the Coles areas near each other. When Dylan opted to stay at Skye’s side instead of going to a bed of his own, there was no discussion. The staff accepted it without complaint.

A few minutes later, a tall, thin woman with straight, jet black hair strode into the room and took a minute to scan the patients before turning to one of the staff.

The two women conferred for a moment before making their way over to Skye.

“Hello, I am Mako of Cirrina Clan,” the thin woman said and came right to the point. “I hear you are both injured. Others will deal with those wounds as they are more than capable. I am an expert on what you call AgFlu, and I’m here to examine Skye.”

Mako bent over Skye, looking her over. Then she attached a type of bracelet to Skye’s arm and consulted a readout on the wall behind her.

“Um, interesting.” Her curious gaze turned to Skye. “Tell me anything you can about the injection they gave you.”

Skye looked startled. “Oh. I hadn’t mentioned—“

“Ian has told me everything. That so-called scientist also tortured him. And now I hear the Humans failed to distribute the cure we left for them. Oceans help us!” Mako folded her arms. “Not surprising to me—I told the council we needed to take care of it ourselves.”

A man walked through the door and overheard Mako’s complaint. “The council thought we should allow Humans the opportunity to help themselves.”

She threw him an irritated stare. “And see what it has brought us? They infected this poor child with things not even the mighty waters could wash out of her. Yet, I am expected to do so. This has become the maelstrom I warned you about, Jorah. It is good I continued with my research.”

“With which I have every confidence you will save this young woman.”

He stepped up to Dylan and Skye and shook their hands. “I am Jorah of Orca Clan, leader of the council and father of Caspian, who brought you here, as well as two lovely daughters. I am sorry to interrupt your time with Mako, but I needed to inform her there will be a meeting of the council tonight.”

Mako put a hand to her hip. “How am I expected to complete my work with these interruptions?”

“The evil is great,” Jorah replied. “It must be dealt with swiftly.”

Mako’s expression changed from irritation to determination. “I will be there.”

After Jorah left, Skye told Mako what she could about what Devon had done to her.

Mako nodded as she pulled out a small tool and waved it over Skye’s body.

Dylan looked over the woman’s shoulder, trying to read what it said, but even the letters were strange to him.

Mako called two of the other medical people over and spoke to them in Atlantian before turning to Skye.

“I am afraid this will be a little more invasive than I like to be. Not too bad though, rather like those IVs that your people like to poke others with.”

“And it will cure me? Of everything?”

Mako held up the small device she had just been using. “Our word for this is “healer” in English. It is small and good for small injuries. There is a larger one. You will lay on the table below it and it will move over you.”

Mako paused as if reading Skye’s reaction. When it seemed Skye accepted the course of treatment, she continued.

“We will also give you a medication that will rid your body of all the poisons the crazy Human gave you.”

“And then I will be cured? For real?”

Dylan squeezed Skye’s hand.

Mako gave Skye a strange look. “Of course, for real. What else is there? I do not pretend to cure people.”

“I’m sorry,” Skye stumbled over her words. “I didn’t mean—I saw people dying horrible deaths and thought that was my future.”

Mako smiled and patted Skye’s shoulder. “I understand. That is because you come from up there.” She shuddered. “Here in the sea, we do miraculous things. Don’t worry, little one. You will be cured—in less than an hour.”

“Thank you!” Skye turned to Dylan, collapsing in his arms.

Dylan dropped into the closest chair, taking Skye with him. Relief had left his legs weak.

He buried his face in Skye’s silky, dark hair, and whispered, as much to himself as to her. “It’s gonna be okay. It’s all gonna be okay now.”

Forty-Six

Free

Dylan watched Skye climb up on the healing table, smiling when she gave him a little wave. The ache in his stomach had evaporated like a morning fog when Mako said they would cure Skye. And it wouldn’t be a long drawn out procedure, but quick and easy.

Who knew what else these strange people could do?

Once Skye settled in for treatment, Mako moved to a nearby table and waved Dylan over. “Could I examine your injury?”

Dylan nodded. As he grabbed the bottom of his shirt, a familiar bite of unease slid over his skin. He never liked displaying the scars covering his body.

Mako’s eyes narrowed, her gaze instantly going not to his fresh injury, but the old ones. The scars that told the sad story of childhood. She reached out and lightly traced the thickest of them, the knife wound that ran from his back to his belly, but she said nothing.

Instead, she removed his bandage and examined the bullet wound.

The hole in Dylan’s side looked every bit as bad as the last time he looked at it. Pus oozed from the inside and redness encircled it.

Dylan prepared himself for the pain of being poked and even worse, getting it cleaned out.

Mako grabbed the small healer off a side table and held it over his injury. She looked at the wound a few times as she tapped the healer’s small screen, then held it a couple of inches from the liquidy mess.

The gaping wound shrank in size.

Dylan jerked, almost jumping off the table. What was this thing doing to him?

“Was there pain?” Mako asked in a surprised tone.

“No. It surprised me, is all”.

“You must be still,” Mako commanded.

Still unable to believe what he was seeing, Dylan asked, “What are you doing?”

“Clearly, I am healing your wound.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes, just like that. Now, be still.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Dylan watched as the hole the bullet had torn through his body got smaller and smaller. “Well, I’ll be,” he murmured.

“I’ll be what?”

He looked up at Mako, confused for a moment, and laughed. “No, just I’ll be. It’s something we say.”

“It makes no sense.”

“Nope. None, but it fits.”

Mako shrugged off her confusion.

When she lifted the healer, Dylan ran his fingers over the small ridge still left on his stomach.

“It’s like it was never there.”

“Clearly, it was there. A scar is still left. But I can erase that too if you wish.”

“Yeah, erase it.”

“I was unsure as I have heard that Human males take great pride in their scars, and you seem to have many.”

Dylan looked down at what his lifted shirt revealed.

Cigarette burns, thin whitish strips, and that thick long knife scar. Battle scars, yeah. But not the type she assumed.

He had survived his step-father’s abuse, and that was something to take pride in, but otherwise, he hated the marks. Each one a horrible memory forever engraved on his skin.

For as long as he could remember, Dylan had avoided mirrors. Looking at them made him sick.

“These ain’t anything to be proud of.”

Dylan tried to console himself for the millionth time the only way he could. They were part of what made him—him. Without them, who was he?

“Dylan.”

He didn’t want to look at the doctor. Dylan couldn’t hide the shame he knew would shadow his eyes, and the only person he revealed that to was Skye.

“Dylan.” Mako’s usual clipped tone became warm and understanding. “The healer can erase them all if you wish.”

His gaze flew to hers. Could that be true? Would he be able to stand proud before Skye without the sins of his father written all over him?

Tears flooded his eyes and though he tried to contain them, one ran down his cheek. He scrubbed at it, lowering his head.

“Tears do not need to be hidden from me. Emotions are something all people share, especially Atlantians. Did you know that we literally share each other’s emotions? Can even send ours out to others? So, you see, I feel your pain as if it were my own, and your desire to shed the past.” Dylan looked up to see the tears in her eyes. “You have powerful emotion, Dylan.”

He gave a weak chuckle. “Yeah, I have a hard time reining them in sometimes.”

She tipped her head. “Who are you, Dylan Cole?”

He understood what she asked.

“I’m a father who’ll be better than the one I had. Someone who tries their best to love, care for, and cherish not only my beautiful Skye but my entire family.”

“A good man.” She nodded. “A family man.” She leaned a bit closer. “What do you want?”

His voice wobbled a little as he answered. “To look in the mirror and see that man—not the one my step-father tried to create.”

“Then lay back and allow the healer to reveal that man.”

Mako started with the bullet wound, erasing that from his skin as easily as his teacher had wiped a chalkboard. Then she moved on.

With each one, a memory returned. The belt that broke the skin, the scorching burn of a cigarette, the swipe of a knife that narrowly missed killing him.

As Mako went from one to the other, the memories lingered. He let them, thinking on them one more time before he put them all away forever.

When the doctor finished, he ran a hand over skin as soft and taut as a newborn babe. And where some men would have been ashamed of such fine skin, Dylan smiled with pride.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I ain’t ever going to forget this. Never.”

Mako put a light hand on his arm and gave him another warm smile before going back to her normal quick manner. “Just doing my job. Isn’t that a human saying too?”

Dylan gave her a quick grin, knowing it had meant more to her than that. “It is. Seems to me, you’ve got a pretty nice job.”

“I agree, Dylan,” she whispered to him. “But do not let others in on that secret. The harder I pretend it is, the more the others leave me to it.”

She straightened, put a hand to her hip, and scanned the room. “It looks like some of our guests are ready for the rooms I had prepared. Skye is still undergoing treatment. If you wish, you may go to her side, and when her treatment is completed, we will give you a room where you can wash and change clothes. I need to prepare for the council meeting.”

Mako clicked her tongue. “Oh, a woman’s work is never done.” She looked at Dylan. “Sonora taught me that one, and I am in total agreement with it.”

Dylan laughed and sincerely thanked her again before making his way over to Skye.

As he strode across the room, Dylan wondered at the difference in himself. He felt taller with each step, like a man who had broken the chains of his past.

He felt free.

Forty-Seven

Grand Plans

Skye eagerly awaited the last long swipe of the healer. The darkness hovering around and in her, the last few days was gone.

She smiled up at the medical assistant who ran the machine, grateful for these people and this technology—neither of which she had known anything about a few hours ago.

It still boggled her mind that an entire race of people had lived on this earth for centuries, and almost no one had known.

Skye eyed a weapon a guard left leaning against the corner of the room. If they had this kind of medical technology, what was their weaponry like?

Skye turned her head toward Dylan as he walked toward her. There was something different about him—though she couldn’t put a finger on it. Happier perhaps?

When he reached her, he took her hand and kissed her forehead.

She locked gazes with him. The dull sadness that always lingered in the back of his eyes was gone. Not tamped down, not pushed to the side so he could enjoy the happiness of the moment, but truly gone.

“Dylan?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

He still leaned over her, grinning at her as he ran a hand along her hair.

“Something is different,” she said.

“Sure is, but we’ll talk about that later. Right now, I want to be sure this thing completely healed you.”

“I feel good.”

“That’s what I wanna hear, darlin’.”

There was a click as the nurse returned the healer to its original position.

“It is finished,” she said with a smile.

“Will I need any kind of follow-up?” Skye asked the nurse as she sat up and ran her hands over her arms and stomach.

“No. It is gone now—completely gone.”

Skye shot Dylan a joyous glance before enthusiastically thanking the nurse. She refrained from jumping off the table, but put one foot then the other onto the floor with care, testing her damaged ankle. It was as strong as it had ever been.

She took Dylan’s arm and leaned against him, not because she needed to, but because she wanted to.

Later that evening, Skye and Dylan sat with Wade, Jesse, and Kelsey in an apartment-like dwelling given to them for the duration of their stay when Ian and Sonora stopped by.

Skye invited them to sit around the thick, wooden antique table that she couldn’t get enough of. She ran her hand over its pristine surface.

“Did you enjoy your meal?” Sonora asked, seeming a bit anxious.

“I sure did,” Wade replied. “After I made sure I wasn’t going to be fed anything still wiggling.”

Ian chuckled. “I can assure you most of our food is well cooked.”

“Good to hear.”

Ian changed the subject to the matter at hand. “The council has met, and as expected, we will join the battle against Devon and his army. We have made the decision to leave in the morning.”

“I would’ve liked to be at this meeting,” Dylan said, with a frown.

“It is rare for an Atlantian other than a council member be admitted to a meeting, let alone a Human. And there was not much of a question of what the decision would be.”

Skye grabbed Dylan’s hand and squeezed it. “We are grateful for the help. A larger force means fewer injuries on our side.”

“With so few of us, it would’ve been a hard fight,” Dylan admitted.

“There is one thing we need to discuss,” Ian said, eyeing Dylan. “Our weapons.”

“Okay.”

“We will set our weapons to stun—unless forced to use stronger.”

“Stun?”

“A person stunned will remain that way for hours. It will give time to get them jailed.”

Dylan’s frown returned. “I don’t want to sound merciless, but what do we do with them then?”

“We ask that you let us care for the situation. Those who can be rehabilitated will be. Those that refuse will be dealt with.”

Dylan disagreed, but Skye stopped him. Remembering Sydney, she told him, “There are good people caught up in this mess that I think will be just as relieved as we are when it is over. We should give them one last chance.”

“My people will handle this. You will be free to go back home as soon as you would like.” Ian eyed Dylan, waiting for his answer.

Dylan looked at Wade, who said, “I got less mercy than my brother, but if Skye says there are some good ones in there—I believe her.”

“I agree with Wade,” Dylan added. “Jesse?”

Jesse, who had closely followed the conversation, perked up. “Yeah. I agree.”

“Kelsey?” Dylan asked.

“Same here.”

Dylan nodded at Ian. “Reckon we’re all in agreement then.”

“That is good,” Ian said. “Let us review the battle attack.”

The plans were simple. The Atlantians had more power behind them than anyone would ever have dreamed. They would attack from the front—straight on and plow their way through the building.

Dylan’s group, along with another group of Atlantians, would pick off stranglers.

Skye stood. “Now that’s taken care of, why don’t I bring out the dish of what I can only assume is a dessert that someone left in our refrigerator—if that is what you call it.”

Sometime later, Ian and Sonora left for their own home, and Wade, Jesse, and Kelsey went to their rooms, leaving Skye and Dylan in the living room.

Dylan turned to Skye with an almost shy expression. “Darlin’, we haven’t had a minute to ourselves, but I have something—Mako did something I never thought possible at the infirmary today.”

Skye moved closer. Whatever this was, it meant a lot to him. “What did she do?”

“It’s better if I just show you.” Dylan raised the edge of his shirt.

Skye’s gaze followed the edge of the material to the bullet wound—or what used to be the bullet wound. She touched her finger to the spot. It was nothing but smooth skin.

“Wow, it’s like it was never there. That’s great, Dylan.”

“That’s not all.” He raised his shirt higher.

The thick scar that had curved around his back had disappeared too.

“Dylan?”

His smile of absolute delight was contagious and had her grinning too.

She ran a hand over his once damaged skin, pushing his shirt out of the way so she could see his entire chest, then back.

“The scars are gone—totally gone!”

“Yep.”

Skye sobered for a moment. “How do you feel about that?”

“Kinda amazing.” He ducked his head. “I keep checkin’ to make sure I didn’t dream it.”

“Oh, Dylan! I’m so happy for you!”

He nodded, a smile still lighting his face as he scanned the room’s furnishings.

“Things are nice here. Best I’ve ever seen. The people are good too.”

Skye followed his gaze, appreciating the gleaming antiques that Ian had explained were castoffs from the world above that Atlantians lovingly brought back to their former glory. “It’s true.”

“And all the technology they have. It would sure make livin’ easier, especially now our world is no longer . . . right.”

“A few of their inventions could really make a difference.”

“And it’s safer here. Safest place on earth, I reckon.”

“I feel like it is.”

Dylan was quiet for a moment as he studied Skye. “You deserve this. I see Sonora—how happy she is here, how secure. You deserve that too.”

He stood and moved to the large window, staring out into the sea. “I just don’t know if I can do it.”

“What are you talking about, love?”

“Ian took me aside. Told me how close you were to dying and said you could be safe here. For our entire lives, if we want. It’s all you’ve ever wanted. Don’t tell me it’s not.”

Skye’s heart skipped a beat. Dylan was right. From the moment the AgFlu had started it was her only goal—get to safety and stay safe no matter the cost. But she hadn’t yet achieved that—maybe never would up on land.

But here? She stared into the ocean, then slowly turned to scan the beautiful home again. Something comparable to the lovely home her mother kept and could afford to with all their millions.

The opportunity to stay overwhelmed her. Jesse and Kelsey could heal from their trauma. The calm atmosphere would also be good for Dylan and Wade.

Her sweep of the room eventually brought her back to her fiancé and what he offered.

Dylan, clad in jeans and a t-shirt with his scruffy face and shaggy hair, the way he stood, the way he talked. Everything about him proclaimed his heritage.

Mountain man. Her mountain man.

He glanced at the water outside the window and his expression seemed sad.

“I just don’t know if I could do it,” he repeated. “But I’d try for you. I’d try anything for you. You know that, darlin’, don’t you?”

Her eyes flooded with happy tears. This man, who had risked his life and braved the enemy to rescue her, was now willing to turn his back on his beloved home to make her happy.

“Oh, Dylan. I love you.”

Skye wrapped her arms around him. When she pulled back, she caught his resigned expression as he threw another glance at the ocean.

“You, love, are the best man in the world. I can’t believe what you are offering me. But this is an under-the-sea home.”

Dylan’s eyebrow rose. “Yeah.”

“I want an on-the-mountaintop home, preferably in West Virginia. I want the warm sun on my face and the soft breeze brushing at my hair. Most of all, I want my strong, dependable, nature-loving husband happy by my side.”

Dylan laid his hand on Skye’s shoulders and put his forehead to hers. “Are you sure, darlin’? Look at everything you’re giving up.”

“Look at everything you’ve already given me. Home, family, love.”

“It ain’t enough. I can’t keep you—it—safe, not like here.”

“We can make it safe. You and me, Wade, and the kids. We can make our own safe place.”

Dylan gave her an uncertain stare, so she pressed on, “Love, you are as good as the warm sun, as unstoppable as the hilltop breeze, and if you decide you’re going to do something, you will.” Skye brushed a bit of hair off his face. “But you’re right, we’ve been surviving. It’s time to start living.”

“How? How do we do better than what we’ve always been doing?”

“Look at what the Atlantians have. They can help us, teach us. Then we can make our own world better.”

Dylan pulled Skye into a warm embrace. “We can make Cole’s Mountain as safe as here.”

“We can start there.”

Dylan’s chest rumbled as he chuckled, and Skye smiled at the sound, snuggling deeper.

“You have grand plans, darlin’.”

“Better grand than none, I say.”

Dylan pulled away just enough to tip his head back to Skye’s. “Grand it is, then.”

He brought his lips to her, brushing them with his before saying, “Cole’s Mountain—here we come.”

Forty-Eight

Scars

The next morning, when Wade entered the kitchen, Dylan sipped at something the Atlantians drank for breakfast instead of coffee.

“That stuff Ian suggested any good?” he asked, nodding at Dylan’s cup.

Dylan grimaced. “Naw. I’m drinking it mostly out of habit.”

Wade leaned against a cupboard and crossed his arms. “This is an amazing place, no doubt. But I have yet to eat or drink anything decent.”

“You got that right, brother,” Dylan said, laughing. “Give me a rabbit burned over a campfire any day.”

“Well, give me a cup of that anyway. I need somethin’ or my whole day will be off-kilter.”

Dylan waved to the wall beside him. A spout and buttons extended from its smooth, stone-like surface.

“I just pushed things until something came out,” he said.

Wade grumbled as he grabbed a cup off of an open shelf and started punching the buttons for himself. He stopped when liquid began to flow out of the nozzle. When it stopped, he sniffed the brew and made a face.

Dylan understood. Their normal cup of strong black coffee had a dark, earthy scent. Whatever this was, it smelled lighter and sweeter. It threw a body off.

“Just imagine it as something different, and it’ll go down better,” he told his brother.

“But where’s the kick? I need my kick.” Wade stared at his cup with a woeful expression.

Dylan shrugged. “I’m still waiting.”

A dolphin swam by the window, drawing the men’s attention.

“Every time I look out a window, I’m surprised I’m under the ocean,” Wade said.

“Not me. I can’t forget we are under tons of water.”

“It’s eerie.”

“Skye says it’s beautiful.”

Wade shot Dylan a glance. “You better get that woman of yours home. She’s gettin’ weird.”

Dylan, who had been drinking the last of his “coffee”, choked a little as he laughed. “I plan to.”

Dylan turned to Wade, changing the subject. “Brother, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Wade raised an eyebrow.

“These people,” Dylan continued, “sure can do some amazing things.”

“Sure can.”

“They got rid of the scars.”

“What? How?”

“They just waved that little machine over them. I got skin like a baby now.”

“Now that’s hard to believe.”

Dylan pulled up his shirt.

“Well, I’ll be,” Wade murmured.

“That’s what I said. I still expect them to be there, they’ve been on me so long.”

“Part of you.”

“I assumed so, but I’m doing just fine without them. I feel like a new man.”

Wade folded his arms and leaned against the counter. “I noticed somethin’ was different. I just reckoned it had to do with finding Skye.”

“I wanted you to know. In case, you wanted the same before we left.”

Wade turned and looked out the window, glancing toward the surface—toward the sun—an almost unconscious check for the time. But it was impossible to see the sun this far down in the water.

Dylan waited. It was Wade’s way to make quick decisions, even on something as big as this. When his brother turned back to him, he’d made up his mind.

“I’m thinking I’ll keep ‘em,” Wade said. “They aren’t as bad as yours. And yeah, he was your father, but he wasn’t your blood. He was mine, and sad to say, these scars are the only thing he left me.” He ran a finger over a burn mark on his forearm. “They remind me to settle down when the more unkind personality traits he handed down to me start takin’ the lead.”

“You sure? “Dylan gave him a hard stare.

Wade chuckled. “This sparkling personality is hard work.” His expression turned serious. “We got kids now, and I don’t ever want to treat them like he treated us.”

“I know, brother.” He put a hand on Wade’s shoulder.

Dylan understood. No one knew Wade or their upbringing better than he did. When it came to battle, or fighting of any kind, Wade was fierce. That hard gleam would flame in his eyes, and he was ready to mix it up—whether he should or not.

“And if you ever change your mind, the Atlantians will be here,” Dylan assured him.

Waded nodded. “Now let’s stop this lallygagging and get us some bad guys.”

Within the hour, they were all back in the water vehicle, heading for the surface. But this time an army surrounded them.

Kelsey bumped Jesse’s arm. “Look!”

Atlantians stretched as far as the eye could see. Some rode the same type of water motorcycle as Ian, and some traveled in larger open sea vehicles holding twenty to forty of them.

Dylan smiled.

That mad scientist would never know what hit him.

Forty-Nine

To Battle

The entire company rose out of the sea as one. If any human would’ve been standing there, Dylan was sure they would have needed to change their pants.

He’d been in more battles than he could count, and no matter how often it seemed weighted in their favor, there was always that small doubt saying his side wouldn’t be the winning side.

But not today.

There was no way he and the Atlantians would lose.

Dylan smiled as he stood in the midst of the army, strapping his weapons onto his body.

Skye scanned the sea of warriors gathered in the parking lot by the beach as they prepared for battle. Somewhere in that bunch of men was Dylan, and she wanted one more glimpse of her fiancé before he left.

She raised on her tiptoes, straining to see him. Just when she was about to give up, a line of men jostled each other to one side, creating an opening.

Dylan broke free of them and strode toward her. Head up, shoulders back, and giving her that slow smile of his.

Her toes curled into the sand.

“Darlin’.”

“I was hoping you’d come over and say goodbye.”

“Of course. Wouldn’t leave without this.” He bent, molding her lips to his, and ignoring the teasing calls of the men behind him.

Skye relaxed into him. After today, they could go home, and she could expect this every morning.

Dylan pulled away and tipped his head to hers. “You’ll stay here, right? So I’ll know you’re safe.”

“Of course.” Skye took in the small contingent of Atlantians assigned to protect Sonora, Kelsey, and herself as well as any injured. While she had been more than willing to stay at Dylan’s side, Kelsey was happier on the sidelines, treating the wounded. And Sonora’s husband was barely comfortable with her on land.

Now Dylan was asking her to stay here for the second time today. She understood. Too much had already happened to them.

When he gave her a doubtful look, she said, “I will stay here, I promise—really promise.”

He pulled her tight again and gave her a quick kiss. He ran a finger down the edge of her hair and gazed into her eyes. “I love ya, darlin’.”

Then, with a soft groan, he turned and walked away.

Feeling bereft over the sudden loss of his muscular arms, Skye wrapped her hugged herself as she watched him disappear into the army of men.

Kelsey walked over to her. “Don’t worry. It won’t be long. Devon has nothing compared to these guys.”

The two women leaned against each other, as the company started its short walk to the Marine Center.

Ian once more sent his love to Sonora, wrapping her in it as he walked behind his father, Jorah, who led the army. Beside him were the Cole brothers and a few of his father’s most trusted warriors, but Ian kept his eyes forward, lost in thought.

Devon Shade. The man who tortured him for months in the guise of medical experiments. Ian barely survived it.

Even now, it haunted him.

His people may be able to get rid of physical scars, but the mental ones had to be taken care of the old-fashioned way.

Ian tried to keep the worst from Sonora, but she knew. He often woke in the middle of the night with tears rolling down his face. It was her soft embrace, her sweet kisses, that helped him get through those black times.

Ian would have been happy to kill the man before they had returned to Atlantis months ago, but he’d refrained. Though his wife and her family were horrified over what Devon was, they hadn’t been ready for such drastic action. And it seemed Devon would spend the rest of his life in jail.

Ian let that be enough for him.

But somehow that evil man escaped the tight bands of justice.

Perhaps that is how it was supposed to be. To give Ian the chance to have sweet revenge for himself.

Ian tightened his hand on his weapon.

Devon Shade would die on this day.

Jesse walked alongside his mountain brethren, his eyes bright. He’d hoped to be part of this momentous battle—had held his breath as he asked—and whooped like a crazy man when Dylan said yes.

Of course, like everything with Dylan, he needed to agree with a million cautions. His father made sure he took the battle seriously and went over every likely scenario and even made Jesse swear to do everything he or Wade said.

After that, they talked weapons.

Mom was not so happy.

She was, in fact, livid. Livid was a word they recently discussed in reading class, and it fit her feelings over the matter perfectly.

When Dylan told her he’d given Jesse permission to walk with them, her lips thinned and lost all color. Her eyes had gotten a bright, hard look.

She’d grabbed Jesse and held him to her and said, “No!”

Dylan gently pried her off Jesse and pulled her into the bedroom where they “talked”—with loud voices.

But when they emerged, she seemed at peace with it.

“I gotta learn sometime, Mom,” he’d said. “This battle will be better than most. Everyone thinks so.”

“So I keep hearing. And I realize you’re bigger and stronger now but, Jesse, you’re my boy. This isn’t ever going to be easy for me, not even when you’re a grown man.”

Jesse gave her a lopsided smile. “I know. You love me.”

Skye ruffled his hair even though she needed to raise her hand almost to her eye level to do so. “You know I do.”

He never tired of hearing her say it. His new family was the opposite of the severe conditions Skye had saved him from. Hearing her proclaim her motherly love for him meant the world was right and good.

It’s what made him want to take part in the battle—so the world was good for other people, too.

Devon needed to be stopped.

Now, Jesse marched along the rest of them—Human and Atlantian—so excited he wasn’t sure his feet actually touched the ground.

On top of that, he replayed the warmth of Kelsey’s quick hug before he’d left and felt his heart thump extra hard.

Much as he’d like to start up something with her—if she liked him too—Dylan had explained that a man needed to learn a lot before he could protect and care for a woman nowadays. Dating was a serious business, not just for fun anymore.

He may be too young now—but he was learning, and someday . . .

Sonora put down the bandages she had arranged and walked over to Skye and Kelsey as they stood seeing the men off.

She searched for a glimpse of her husband’s dark hair and found it—maybe. It was so hard to see the front of the line.

But it didn’t matter so much. She could still feel Ian’s emotion as he marched away from her. His love surrounded her like a warm, fuzzy blanket.

Sonora would’ve smiled except for that hard edge of darkness hanging just beyond his love for her. The blackness had been a part of him since she had helped rescue him from Uncle Devon’s lab.

She shuddered, remembering her first sight of him sitting in the too-small cage, injured and sick.

Her beloved uncle had done that to him. To this day she couldn’t believe it, even though her uncle had admitted it himself.

Sonora knew what the darkness in Ian meant. Her uncle wouldn’t make it through the day.

She was okay with that. The only judgment left in this world was the judgment they made for themselves. Uncle Devon was an evil man. There was no doubt about that. And evil needed to be destroyed.

Even though her small amount of Atlantian blood didn’t allow her to share the full strength of her emotion with her husband, she sent it anyway. Her husband needed to know she was on his side and would forgive any action he needed to take today. They were Jatta Arra—together forever.

He sent his immediate response, so overwhelming she gasped.

Relief that she would accept the inevitable. Appreciation and love in wave after wave.

“Be careful, my love,” she murmured.

Skye reached for Sonora’s hand, squeezing it. “This is hard, isn’t it? Seeing them off like this.”

“It is, but when this day is over, we will be home and the world will be a better place.”

“It will,” Kelsey added. “And we can be proud of making it that way.”

The three women watched until the last person faded from their view. They pushed their worry aside and turned toward the infirmary tent sitting on the blacktop under the shadow of Spire Cliff and prepared it under the guidance of the Atlantian doctors.

Fifty

Into the Fray

Dylan and his group of mountain men had found a high place. From there, they could see the major battle and anyone who tried to escape it.

This suited Wade just fine. From what those Atlantians said, they’d be through the building in a few minutes and that would leave him nothing to do. And there wasn’t anything he loved more on God’s green earth than a good ole man-to-man fight. And from what Skye had told them, getting rid of the jackasses in the Marine Center couldn’t happen soon enough.

Wade blew out a noisy breath. And people thought he was bad.

He dug into his front pocket for a few pieces of candy he’d stashed in there earlier and popped one into his mouth before handing another to Jesse.

“We’re gonna have some fun today, boy.”

Jesse sent him a thin smile as he took the candy.

Dylan scowled at Wade. “We’re here ‘cause it needs doin’. Not for fun.”

“You think what you think and I’ll think what I want.” Wade rubbed his hands together. “I ain’t gonna rough anyone up too bad unless I have to. It’s a way to let off some steam is all.”

“I wish a fight didn’t make you so happy. But your rowdiness does always help.” Dylan looked down and kicked at the ground. “I can’t say I ain’t feeling some of that myself. But we don’t need to pass something like that on to the boy. We only fight when it needs doing, and that’s it.”

“Of course, brother, of course. Jess knows that, don’t ya, Jess?”

Jesse nodded. “I do. And the butterflies are swirling so thick in my stomach, I’m feelin’ more sick than anything else. I’m not sure I’m going to consider fighting fun.”

“That’s good,” Wade said as he chuckled. “No worries, D. The boy had his head on straight.”

“That’s good, Jesse.” Dylan clapped him on the back. “That’s real good.”

Jesse threw a glance back toward the beach. “I wish I could see Mom and Kelsey from here. I’m worried about them. Can you spot them, Dad? Your eyes are better than anyone’s.”

Dylan scanned the beach. “Seems all quiet.” He turned back to the boy. “Worrying is part of battling, but you need to keep your mind on what you’re doing. As much as you can, anyway. Even a slight distraction can cost ya.”

“Speaking of—,” Wade said, “heads up.”

Below them, Ian and Jorah’s army broke free of the brush and trees to cross the parking lot to the domed building. Their dark blue armor shone in the early morning sun, and each man carried a rifle-like laser weapon.

Ian had explained that his army would have their weapons set to stun. That way they could fire at will and sort the good and the bad out later. It would make for a quicker and cleaner attack.

Wade could understand that, but it seemed to take the fun right out of it. He was glad he was up here looking for the stragglers.

The Atlantians closed in on the front of the building, dropping the few Humans standing in the parking lot.

One scraggly group ran, pulling along their five tied-up captives—no doubt on their way to feed the evil scientist’s experiments.

Jorah’s men fired, deliberately missing the innocents. Most fell, leaving the captives standing there with disbelief written all over their face.

This was their lucky day.

Jorah nodded and two of his men walked to the captives and moved them to safety.

Jorah’s army now stood at the front of the building, a row of patched-up commercial glass doors the only thing standing between them and the enemy.

At a signal from Jorah, the first line aimed their rifles at the doors. The blast sent wood, glass, and metal flying into the air.

When everything settled, the barricade had disappeared.

Inside the lobby, people scattered. Some tried to scoot out the side doors, but they didn’t stand a chance.

The guns blasted, and the enemy fell.

Wade grunted, hardly believing what he was looking at.

The night before, Ian had proclaimed they would be through the building in no time, and that sounded just about right.

“Head’s up,” Dylan whispered, nodding to their right.

Something—or someone big moved through the bushes. Wade got a flash of plaid. Definitely Human. “Here we go.”

Dylan waved, indicating the group should move together. He put Jesse between himself and Wade before leading the way.

When the man in plaid saw them, he tried to make a run for town.

Dylan sent two men after him. They had the weaponless man pinned and tied in no time.

Wade walked up to him and stuck a rag in his mouth. “In case, he starts squawkin’ and warns others.”

One after another, they grabbed those trying to escape. Wade was pretty sure most of them were on the wrong side. A couple of them seemed confused and didn’t put up much of a fight, and he wouldn’t be surprised to find they were the innocents they claimed to be, but there would be more time to sort that out later.

Before long, they had gathered a small group of prisoners. Dylan left two armed men with them and took the rest of his company to search for others.

After returning to their high spot, they scanned the area for movement. They saw none.

Dylan and Wade shared a satisfied glance until a bullet buzzed by them and buried itself deep in the tree beside Wade’s head.

Fifty-One

Onward

Dylan ducked, his heart pounding as he grabbed Jesse’s arm and pulled him down beside him.

He scanned his company, making sure all his men crouched against the sandy ground.

It’d been too easy. There was always something.

“Stay low,” he mumbled to his son.

On their far left, several tall bushes swayed. Someone—several someones—forced their way through them.

Dylan signaled for his men to keep low and follow him.

They moved toward the enemy, using the thick brush along the beach to hide their advance.

Slow and steady. Watch and wait. The last thing Dylan wanted was to walk into an ambush.

He looked over the land. As far as Dylan could tell, the people ahead were the only ones out here.

He picked up the pace, turning to Jesse as they got closer.

“When we catch up with them, you find somewhere to lie low, ya hear? You had some fun with the others. But there are more in this group, and I’m not risking you.”

Jesse opened his mouth to argue, and Dylan threw him a stern stare. The boy closed his mouth and nodded.

“Good man,” Dylan said.

He narrowed his gaze and hardened his jaw as he focused on the group ahead of them. Tightening one hand on his rifle, he waved his mountaineers onward with the other.

When the enemy slipped around a small curved hill, Dylan looked back the way they had come, his stomach tightening.

This was taking them further out than he’d expected. Soon the Marine Center would be out of sight. If he couldn’t see that building, he wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on Spire Cliff where Skye and Kelsey were.

Dylan stopped, peeking around the small hill at the enemy ahead.

The enemy seemed relaxed, slowing from a trot to a leisurely walk as if they didn’t realize someone followed them.

Wade waved for him to continue forward, that eager light in his eyes. When Dylan didn’t respond, Wade whispered, “What’s the problem, bro?”

“Something doesn’t seem right.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. It’s not something I see—it’s something I feel.”

“You sure you just ain’t feeling lonely over Skye.”

Dylan shot Wade an irritated glance, but his heart thumped in agreement with Wade. Not lonely, though. Worried.

He’d promised to keep her safe, and he couldn’t do it from this far away.

He shook his head. Now wasn’t the time for distraction. Skye had two giant Atlantians at her side and weapons of her own. She’d be fine.

“I ain’t lonely,” Dylan growled at his brother.

Wade chuckled. “I kinda like the lovesick Dylan.”

“Shut up.”

“He’s so cute and cuddly.”

“I said shut up. Keep your mind on the job.”

“Oh, are we finally going to get to that? Here I was thinking we’re gonna let those boys skip on out of here.”

Dylan gave Wade a deep scowl which caused his brother even more amusement. Dylan ignored him and went back to scoping out the scene ahead.

Dylan perked up when the men from the Marine Center moved to an area the trail widened.

He broke his men in two, four on either side, telling them to stay well behind the enemy as they followed them until he gave the order to attack.

Each man slipped silently through the brush and grass with the care Dylan had taught them.

Dylan nodded approvingly at Jesse. The boy had done well so far but it was time for him to find a safe place. Dylan pointed to a hollow behind a tree.

Jesse pulled a face, but he did as he was told.

After making sure his men were all in line, Dylan turned his gaze on the enemy ahead and made sure his weapons were ready to fire.

When two of Devon’s men bumped their shoulders together and started laughing, Dylan knew the time was right.

He raised his crossbow and fired.

As soon as the bolt had left the shaft, he loaded the second one.

Within seconds of each other, the two men dropped.

Dylan and his men shouted an earsplitting battle cry.

The enemy startled and raised their weapons.

Dylan reloaded. When he raised his weapon, he saw the mountain men had Devon’s men surrounded.

“Drop your weapons, ya filthy varmints,” Wade shouted at them.

Dylan’s stomach hardened when, for a moment, it seemed they would refuse. A firefight this close would have casualties.

He couldn’t allow this to escalate.

Dylan stepped forward and raised his gun to the head of the closest man. Deadly serious as he stared at their leader. “Drop ‘em. Now.”

The man’s expression changed from defiance to distaste. He spit on the ground as he dropped his gun. “Do as he says, boys.”

Then he turned to Dylan. “Look. We were just trying to leave this place—not cause any trouble. Look at it. It’s going down—it’s already over. None of us are White Coats. Just let us go.”

Dylan’s gaze scraped over the dirty, heavily weaponed group. There was only one reason men like these would be on this property. They were the ones who dragged the innocents to this awful place. Maybe the very ones who had brought Skye and Kelsey here.

“No,” Dylan said.

A man toward the rear of Devon’s group reached behind his back.

For Dylan, everything slowed to a crawl. He jerked his rifle up and zeroed in on him.

“Don’t do it,” he warned the man.

“We just bring them here. I’m not taking the blame for something someone else did.” He raised his gun so quickly it almost seemed a blur.

Dylan didn’t think—he squeezed the trigger.

The man huffed as the bullet hit his shoulder, burying deep. The gun dropped from his slack fingers to the ground with a thud. He grabbed his shoulder and yelled.

Wade shook his head as he patted the rest of them down. “We warned ya. It didn’t have to be this way, but you didn’t listen.”

Dylan waved Jesse out of his hiding place and handed him some strip ties. “Help Wade tie them up.”

Jesse took the ties, an urgent expression on his face. Dylan was glad to see him take his job seriously.

Once the enemy was secure, some of Dylan’s tension left him.

Now they needed to take these guys to the Atlantians and meet back up with Skye and Kelsey.

Fifty-Two

Almost

Skye sighed as she released her bottom lip. How was Dylan doing? And Jesse?

She glanced up—then higher still—at the Atlantian beside her. He was tall and muscular, almost a twin to the one standing on the other side of the small medical camp. She was glad they were on her side.

They had introduced themselves, explaining they were brothers and given names her tongue could never reproduce.

When the tall, brown-haired man beside Skye gave her a reassuring grin, she returned it with a quick, half-hearted one and turned her worried gaze toward the Marine Center.

Even this far away, and over the roar of the ocean beside them, the screams and cries of the enemy were heard.

“Do not worry,” the Atlantian assured her. “Those are only cries of fear. They will harm no innocents, and the guilty will have a trial. Jorah and the Counsel have decreed it.”

“Will the trial be here or in Atlantis?” Skye asked.

“Here, of course, kind lady. Never would Jorah allow Humans such as those into our most precious city.”

Skye nodded. If she was Jorah, she wouldn’t allow anything to mar that beautiful home either.

The cries gradually faded, and only occasionally would one slice through the morning air, silencing the chatter of small animals and birds.

“It is almost over now,” the brown-haired Atlantian said.

“Good,” Sonora replied as she stared toward the building and folded her arms. “Good.”

Kelsey walked over to Skye and leaned against her. “It sounds like our side won.”

“Yes, it does. Now all those suffering from Devon’s experiments will be helped.” Skye’s heart lifted a little. It was what she’d wanted—what had started this entire battle.

Was Dylan’s group having the same sort of success as the Atlantians?

She imagined his bullet-riddled body lying across a trail. Jesse by his side, crying—or worse . . .

Skye shook her head to dislodge the horrible vision.

Skye’s group waited, sure there would be some injuries.

Eventually, two Atlantians showed up reporting that everything had gone well. Some warriors continued to round up the enemy while others followed Dylan’s men, searching for any stragglers or escapees.

He predicted any minor skirmishes would soon be over and that any injuries would be small. Then both Atlantians disappeared back into the tall seagrass.

Time dragged by as Skye eagerly awaited her family’s return, and when the two Atlantian guards stood taller, their eyes searching the beach and tall grass, she started looking around too.

“You hear something?” she asked.

“Someone comes. Several Humans.”

Skye’s heart soared. Dylan and Jesse!

The Atlantian beside her swayed, then fell with a thud, unconscious at her feet.

Skye blinked in confusion and turned to look at the second Atlantian, who bounced against the sand when he dropped.

Skye gaped before she pulled her scattered wits together and realized someone had stunned them with an Atlantian gun.

As she drew her weapon, she yelled, “Kelsey, Sonora, fire! They have Atlantian lasers!”

Sonora held her laser gun and fired into the tall seagrass.

Someone on the other side gave a loud grunt. There was a dull thud as they hit the ground.

As Skye sent Sonora a triumphant glance, the blonde woman fell to the sand as graceful as a ballerina.

Skye fired at the enemy and grabbed the back of Kelsey’s shirt, tugging her backward. “We need to run!”

Skye’s arm jerked down as Kelsey fell to the ground, her eyes closed.

Skye refused to let go of the girl. She dropped to her knees, making herself as small as possible against the sand. Skye stuck her gun into her waistband and put her hands under Kelsey’s arms, dragging her back to a large rock behind them.

She glanced up at Spire Cliff. If she could get Kelsey between the rock and the cliff, they would have some protection.

Then what?

One thing at a time.

Skye tugged, making more progress than she’d imagined she would.

Her gaze darted from one side of the tall grasses to the other.

Why hadn’t they fired at her? Maybe they had moved on. Not considered her a threat.

Still, she kept on dragging Kelsey to the rock. They could hide there until the girl woke up or help came.

A long, deep chuckle came from the grass.

Skye froze.

The tall blades stirred and someone stepped from behind them.

“Oh, Skye dear, this is indeed my lucky day.”

Skye starred back in disbelief. Her stomach turned.

Devon. Devon Shade.

Beside him, Cliff and two of Devon’s guards emerged.

In a flash, Skye pulled her weapon and fired it at the guards holding laser weapons.

The first and the second went down, screeching and clenching their wounds.

Cliff raised his gun, aiming at her head, his finger curled around the trigger.

“Don’t hurt her!” Devon screamed. “I need her!”

Cliff changed his aim.

Before Skye could move, the bullet came at her like an angry hornet. Fire ripped through her hand.

Her gun fell to the sand with a thud.

Skye screamed and brought her hand to her stomach, cradling it.

When Cliff started toward her, Skye turned and ran.

She stumbled but pushed against the sand and continued as fast as she could go.

Cliff’s breath huffed behind her.

A few steps later, she felt his steel fingers digging into her collarbone and twirling her around.

Cliff’s glee-filled expression filled her line of sight before he wrapped his fingers into a fist, drew back his arm, and punched her in the face.

Her vision flamed red as her skull reverberated with the bone on bone contact.

Skye’s bad hand hung useless at her side. Her good one shoved at him but was too weak to do any harm.

Some small part of her brain still worked, and it screamed for her to do something—anything.

Instead, she slipped into darkness.

The sand was soft and warm. As her brain shut down, she allowed herself to enjoy that small bit of comfort.

It may be the last she would have.

Fifty-Three

Nothing

Pain woke Skye. She pulled in a ragged breath.

She was slung over Cliff’s shoulder. Her bullet-riddled hand spiked with pain as it collided with Cliff’s back with every step he took.

The entire side of her face ached, and jolts of pain flashed through it.

Skye groaned and pushed against Cliff, wanting away from him. The thought of his hands on her made her sick.

Cliff laughed and slid his hand from her knee to her thigh.

Skye jerked and pushed harder, straightening at the waist a little.

“If I let you down and you can’t walk, I’ll punch you again and carry on.”

“My feet are fine.” Her voice came out weak and trembling. She hated that she sounded that way.

“Let’s see how your head is.” Cliff held her legs up, letting her slide lower on his back.

Skye yelled and grabbed his shirt, trying to hang on.

He cackled as he shook her up and down.

Her brain swirled, and she choked with nausea.

Cliff dropped her.

Skye avoided landing directly on her head by letting her arms take the worst of the fall. Her hand exploded in pain. She turned her head and vomited.

As Cliff’s hands reached for her, Skye pretended to choke again. Everything had happened so fast, and she needed a minute to assess the situation.

She looked around. She must have only been unconscious for a few minutes. They hadn’t gotten far—only further into the beach’s parking lot.

Scattered across the blacktop were a few vehicles. Two looked like they had sat there a while. The other van and trucks were the ones her group had arrived in.

Where was Dylan, Wade, and Jesse? Were they close?

It didn’t seem like Cliff thought that was a possibility. He’d made no attempt to keep quiet.

He towered over her, watching her every move. It limited how openly she could scan the area.

Devon pushed Cliff aside and knelt beside her.

The scientist clucked over the damage to her face and admonished Cliff. “You use too firm a hand with her. I have repeatedly told you not to harm her so much.”

“I remember you saying I could do whatever I wanted as long as she was still able to undergo the experiments. A bruised face doesn’t bother them.”

Devon didn’t reply, instead he mumbled something Skye couldn’t make out.

Skye kept her eyelids lowered as she let her gaze trail across the parking lot and into the brush, trees, and tall grass that surrounded it.

There was a trail on the far side, wide enough for a car—if only she could get to her feet and run.

Something on the other side of the parking lot caught her eye.

A glint. It lasted only a second, if that.

Was someone out there? Or had the sun hit a patch of sea glass?

She prayed Dylan was there, waiting for the perfect time to ambush Cliff and Devon.

The scientist picked at her injured hand, muttering about it. He prodded it, almost kneading it.

Skye screamed as pain like a hot iron radiated through her hand. She pulled her arm away from the evil scientist, cradling it to herself.

When Devon came at her again, she pushed his fingers away.

“Now, dear, stop fussing,” he said. “There is dirt in your wound.”

“It hurts, Devon. Please, just leave it be for now.” Treating him well had always worked in the past, she’d try it again now even if it did seem as if he’d lost even more of his hold on reality. “I’m sorry. I’ll be braver later.”

“If it gets infected, it may cost your life, and I can’t have that. You’re too valuable to me.”

He moved toward her hand again, even though Skye tried to hold him at bay.

Devon stopped. “Unless—oh yes, that may be interesting.”

Skye gave him a wary look. “What is interesting?”

He ignored her, a sign that he was seeing a medical subject and not a real flesh-and-blood person he should have empathy for.

“Cliff,” he said, “this may give us a new opportunity. Let us see if she is vulnerable to infection. If not, we carry on like before, but with some added knowledge. But if it does become infected, we can see if she had the same regenerative powers as a starfish.”

Cliff raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

“We cut off the infected arm and see if it grows back.”

Skye reeled back in horror, her heart racing.

“I’ve never thought to try that,” Devon continued. “Why, I don’t know. Clearly, an interesting experiment.”

Cliff chuckled as he stared at the horrified Skye. “Clearly. But I want some time with her before you start pulling her apart. Promise me that and you’ll have all the help you need.”

“Of course, Cliff.” Devon waved his hand at him. “Same set of rules, though. She must be able to carry on with the experiments.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll leave enough of her for that.”

Skye stumbled to her feet and ran. Her head spun, and the ground seemed to move with every step.

“Go after her!” Devon ordered Cliff.

“Look at her. She’s not going far. I need to get into one of these vehicles first.”

It gave Skye time. She narrowed her eyes as she tried to see clearly.

Glass shattered, tinkling onto the pavement. A false start or two of an old engine and then a roar as it caught.

It didn’t help that their group often left the older mountain community vehicles keyless and always hot-wired them.

Skye redoubled her efforts, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other as she weaved across the parking lot.

Cliff’s shoes slapped pavement as he easily caught up with Skye and pushed her to the ground.

Her chin caught the hard, pebbled surface. She bit her tongue and blood spurted into her mouth.

Cliff stepped on her back.

Skye fought, clawing at his legs with her good hand and trying to drag herself away from him.

He quickly tired of his game.

With a foot still on her back, Cliff reached down and grabbed her good hand, pulling it up toward him until she yelled.

“You never listen,” he retorted. “Are you going to listen now?”

“Yes,” Skye whimpered. “I will.”

“You can be a one-armed woman or a no-armed woman.”

“I’ll listen. I will!”

“If you don’t, I swear I’ll take this arm. You got it.”

Skye raised her head and nodded.

Cliff grabbed Skye around the middle and hauled her to her feet. He kept a tight grip on her arm as he dragged her to the van he’d already started.

He opened the side door of the vehicle and threw her in.

Skye choked back a sob. This van should take her to her beloved mountains, not wherever these evil men were going.

When Cliff backed away to slide the van door closed, he saw her eye the door.

“If you try it, I’ll come after you. I’ll get you just like I get you every time.” He stepped closer and put his face to hers. “And I’ll enjoy it. You know I will.”

Skye dropped her gaze to the floor. Her last hope of escaping died when Cliff found a zip-tie and secured her ankle to a steel bar under the front passenger seat.

As Cliff slammed the door shut, Skye took stock.

She was tied to the vehicle, had one usable hand, couldn’t go two steps without dizziness.

If she somehow got loose in the time it took Cliff to walk to the driver’s seat, could she make it across the parking lot and beyond?

The answer was obvious.

Cliff would catch her like he always did, just as he’d said. Then he would beat her. How much more of that would she survive?

Cliff strutted around the outside of the van, past the passenger seat window and the front windshield as if he had done something he could brag about and not just beat up a defenseless woman—again.

Devon waited in the front seat, not caring what happened to Skye as long as he got enough of her to slap onto an exam table and torture.

These men were in charge of her life now.

Her stomach dropped and the deep, bone-numbing fatigue of defeat overcame Skye. She crumpled to the floor of the vehicle.

There was no way out, and no one to help her.

This was her life now.

Skye lay like a lifeless husk, her eyes dull. She had nothing left—no fight, no emotion.

Only the tears running over her cheeks showed she had any life left at all.

Fifty-Four

Falling

Devon uttered a short, odd cry.

Skye jerked up from the floor.

The scientist fumbled with his seatbelt, his eyes wide.

Skye looked out the front window.

No Cliff.

“What happened?” she asked, but Devon didn’t acknowledge her.

Skye tried to turn onto her knees, but the twist-tie didn’t quite allow it. She pushed up the best she could and looked outside the van, her gaze darting from one end to the other.

Still no Cliff.

She reached down to her ankle and worked at the zip-tie.

Something slapped the driver’s side of the van.

Skye looked up.

Cliff clawed at the window with bloody hands. A bolt ran through his body below his shoulder from back to front. It scratched against the glass.

The door handle rattled.

Skye scrambled toward the driver’s chair. She needed to lock that door. She crawled onto the seat and stretched as far as she could.

Cliff stared at her. “Help me!”

Skye stared back as she pushed the lock down.

“What are you doing?” Devon yelled at her. “We need to get out of here.”

He pushed at Skye, and she fell to the floor of the vehicle. Devon stood to unlock the driver’s door.

Skye grabbed his pant leg with her good hand and pushed her free foot into the back of his knee.

With one good yank, the man fell onto the floor beside her.

Skye reached for her ankle, glancing out the window as she did so. She gasped as joy filled her.

Dylan and his mountain men ran straight for the van.

Skye jerked at the zip-tie and scanned the van for anything to remove it.

Beside her, Devon pulled a small scalpel from his pocket and held it to her face.

Skye stilled.

Quickly, Devon dropped his hand to her ankle and sliced the plastic holding her. He brought the scalpel back to her face and held it there as he maneuvered himself out of the van.

Then he motioned Skye out.

Devon grabbed her arm and dragged her across the parking lot.

“No!” Skye struggled. “Devon, let me go! You can’t win this. They’re coming.”

He whirled to see Dylan’s group gaining ground. His gaze darted across the parking lot as he looked for a way out.

There were only two ways—across the parking lot to the trail or onto the path for Spire Cliff. Everyone knew the path for Spire Cliff ended at an overlook five hundred feet above the ocean waves.

There was only one logical way to go.

Insane Devon did not go that way.

She pulled away, surprised at Devon’s strength as he forced her to stay beside him.

Skye curled her good hand into a fist and punched Devon square on the nose.

Devon reared back, but he clenched Skye tighter.

Skye threw another punch.

He yelled and let go of her for just a moment.

Skye whirled around—a mistake with a concussion—but quickly regained her balance. She trained her eyes on Dylan and ran toward him.

Devon followed her, his shoes tapping against the pavement.

She felt his hand in her hair.

He yanked her backward.

Skye’s scalp burned as hair tore from her skin. She fell but scrambled back up.

Devon curled his hand in her hair, gaining another handful, and jerked her close to him.

“I know just what to cut on you so you’ll never walk again,” he threatened as he held the small sharp knife in front of her.

Skye stopped fighting. If Devon crippled her, she wouldn’t be able to run.

Devon held the scalpel to Skye’s neck, turning her right and left so Dylan could see he had control of her.

The mountain men slowed.

Devon backed himself and Skye up the trail.

Across the parking lot, Ian broke from the trees and ran toward them.

Skye smiled. There was nowhere for Devon to go. He’d have to give up now.

Devon continued to step backward—up Spire Cliff’s trail—pulling her along with him.

Dylan continued to close in and was now close enough that Skye could see his frantic expression.

“Skye. Skye, darlin’, it’ll be okay.”

She started to nod, but Devon’s fingers still held her head tight. “I know, love.”

“Is this your mate?” Devon asked. “How disappointing! I’d hoped if you were already attached it would be to one of your own kind.”

Skye’s blood boiled. “For the last time, Devon, I am not Atlantian.”

“You are—a little. That is why you are the secret to the cure.”

“Devon!” Skye argued as she tried to slow their progress. “The Atlantians already have a cure. One they will share with all of us. You don’t need to search for one anymore.”

Devon screamed at her. “The cure is mine to find. I must! The world is suffering.”

“Most of the world is dead.”

Devon jerked her head back and touched the blade to the side of her neck. “Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Skye kept quiet, taking a step backward when forced to, but she locked her gaze with Dylan’s. It is what gave her strength.

She sent a worried look to Dylan as they passed the last trees on the trail and headed toward the overlook.

“Fall,” Dylan mouthed to her.

Skye pretended to stumble.

Dylan raised his rifle and aimed.

The scientist pulled Skye up as he made himself small behind her.

“Very clever,” he said. “But not clever enough.”

When Skye struggled, he put the blade to her neck and pressed hard enough that blood ran down her neck.

Dylan lowered his rifle.

“Thank you,” Devon said as pleasantly as if Dylan had passed him a cup of tea.

“What you don’t understand, Skye dear, is that I must find a cure and will do anything for it. Anything. Do you understand? It is my entire motivation in life.”

“I do understand. But Devon—"

“We cannot trust the Atlantians! I do not care if they say they have a cure. I don’t believe it. It is more likely a poison designed to wipe the rest of us from the earth. I started this disease as a weapon against them. Why would they help us?”

Devon weaved both of them through the end of the safety fence that surrounded the overlook and stopped.

Skye kept her gaze on Dylan and, with her one good hand, grabbed the top of the thick metal railing.

“Devon. Where are we going?”

“Why over the edge, dear.”

Skye’s heart hammered. Barely able to breathe, she said, “We won’t survive that.”

“We will, dear. We will. The Atlantians jump it all the time and survive.”

“We are Human, Devon. Human!”

“So it would seem, and yet we are not, are we?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I guess I can finally reveal one final truth to you. After all, we are going on this little adventure together.” Devon cleared his throat.

“I also have Atlantian DNA.” He sighed. “There, I said it. I don’t mind telling you, I went a little crazy when I found out.”

A little crazy?

“I ran the blood test fifty times before I believed it. Literally.”

Devon took a step back.

Skye kept her grip on the fence, stretching her arm to the limit.

Her fingers slipped from its slick surface.

“Don’t worry, dear—only a couple of steps left.”

Skye looked at Dylan, the love of her life.

His face turned ashen and his gaze darted from one side of the cliff to the other, looking for a solution.

There wasn’t one.

If Devon was determined to go over the edge, he’d take her with him.

“I love you,” she mouthed to Dylan.

“No!” he roared.

“You are everything to me. Everything,” Skye said aloud. “Tell Jesse, Wade—everyone how much I—“

Devon’s arms locked around her—one around her middle and one around her throat.

“See you at the bottom, Skye dear. Then we will start anew.”

Skye felt Devon take another step backward. His foot slipped against the edge of the cliff.

He squeezed her tighter.

She stared at Dylan. She’d take this last look with her. Her eyes filled with tears as she fell backward.

Dylan raced to the edge, throwing his rifle to the side as he ran.

Skye raised a hand to him.

Their fingers grazed.

“Skye!” One word screamed Dylan’s anguish.

The wind rushed past her ears as they free fell.

She would have screamed except for Devon’s arm around her throat, restricting any intake of air.

Instead, she watched the side of the red rock cliff zip by.

It was both longer and shorter than she expected.

His heavier body hit first. It bucked as he hit the water.

There was a crunch Skye both felt and heard as a hundred bones in Devon’s body broke at the same time.

His body protected hers.

The warm water surrounded her, and his lifeless arms released her.

Skye shuddered with shock.

A wave lapped over Skye’s head, and she kicked upward to break the surface again.

Nausea, dizziness, and pain returned in full force. Skye struggled to keep it at bay as the ocean sent a barrage of waves toward her.

Each push of water sent her further downward.

Skye kicked and pulled at the water, trying to reach the surface.

Two waves collided with her in the center. The tumble sloshed her already bruised brain.

The water’s powerful surge forced her down.

Skye was too weak to push back.

She slipped under the surface and watched the light darken.

Fifty-Five

Walk Away

Skye woke, sputtering and coughing, only half aware of her surroundings.

There was a sharp pain in her damaged hand.

She jerked it to her, but someone held it fast.

Skye’s chest tightened with panic, and she fought.

“Hush, darlin’. It’s all right now.”

“It’s almost over,” Sonora added.

Skye opened her eyes and glanced around. She was in the medical tent she had helped set up for the battle.

Ian held her arm as he ran the healer over it. Sonora stood beside him.

Dylan was on her other side, cradling Skye’s other hand in both of his. Her gaze searched his.

“Ian thought it was best to heal up that hand before you woke. He knew it would hurt some.”

Skye gave Dylan a tight smile as another sharp pain ran through her injury. “I’m just glad he can heal it. It felt so bad, I was afraid to even look at it.”

“Look at it now,” Ian said with a smile.

With a bit of hesitation, Skye raised her hand and flexed her fingers.

No pain. No sign of any injury. She almost wept. “Thank you!”

Ian nodded. “We will send two healers with you when you go back to your mountains.”

Skye beamed as she pushed herself into a sitting position. “Oh, Ian. That will help our community so much.”

Dylan agreed. “Sure will.”

“I am happy for that,” Ian said. “Your people and mine work together now. My father will also have other items for you.”

Outside the medical tent, a group of people stood. In the middle of the circle, someone in a dark blue shirt laid on the sand.

“Is that him?”

“Yes, darlin’, but he’s gone now. You don’t have to worry.”

Skye bit the inside of her cheek, then said, “I want to see him. I need to.”

Dylan helped her out of the cot. As soon as Skye got her footing, she was able to walk on her own over to the group.

Ian and Sonora stood beside Skye, arms wrapped around each other as they stared at the body.

Each one of them had seen Devon differently—from a loving uncle to a prejudiced killer.

All felt relieved he no longer walked this earth.

Skye stared at the evil scientist. In death, he looked small—powerless.

She shook her head, wishing for all their sakes the man’s life had gone better.

In another world, Devon may have been a better man.

In this one, he had been a monster.

Beside him laid Cliff—a broken bolt shaft still protruding from his body.

He had inspired true terror in Skye, and if she could’ve chosen his death, she wasn’t sure she would’ve been merciful enough to give him such a quick one—not after the torture he’d inflicted on her and doubtless many others.

She stared at the two evil men for a moment.

They had fallen.

She had survived them both.

Skye turned away, secure in the knowledge they would never harm anyone again.

Dylan stood beside her.

She slipped her hand into his.

Together, they walked away.

Fifty-Six

Rest

Later, Skye, Dylan, and Wade sat with Jorah, Ian, and Sonora inside the coffee shop Sonora frequented before the AgFlu had begun.

“Time will be needed to develop more of the cure, but it will be done as quickly as possible,” Jorah promised them. “Since I had thought I left the distribution safely in Human hands the last time and it failed somewhere along the line. I hope you understand if I wish to lead the effort this time.”

Dylan raised his hands. “Have at it. I’m satisfied leaving it to you. I’d like to take some home to Cole’s Mountain.”

Jorah nodded. “Of course.”

“Dylan,” Skye asked, surprised at his willingness to hand over the project, “will we deliver any as we head home?”

“To my father and his people. We’ll leave the rest to someone else.”

Before she could say another word, Dylan answered her unspoken question.

“That’s work for others to do. You and I—we’ve done enough, darlin’.” He squeezed her hand. “We’re still aching over what’s happened.”

Skye glanced at the Atlantians. They all nodded in agreement.

“Our place is on Cole’s Mountain, standing side by side, making it better,” Dylan continued. “I’m not risking you or this family ever again.”

“The greatest blessing in life is family,” Ian said. “And the greatest challenge is their safety. Dylan, you have done well. It is time for you and your family to rest now.”

Dylan grinned. “You heard the man, darlin’.

He was right. Although their physical wounds were healed, their emotional ones needed more time.

“My family owes you an enormous debt after everything Devon put you through. This is your time to heal.” Sonora said, “It is our time to work at fixing his evil mistakes.”

Ian nodded. “Atlantians the world over will rise and distribute the cure. I assure you, Humans will be saved.”

“Now hang on a dang minute,” Wade blustered. “If they want to take a rest, well, I reckon, they earned it. But I plan on being part of this. Don’t be leavin’ me out.”

“Of course,” Ian replied, “any Humans who wish to join us will be welcomed.”

Jorah stood. “Humans and Atlantians working together. It is a new day! May it continue for as long as the seas kiss the land.”

Skye smiled. Warmth filled her as she imagined a new, better world.

Ian, Sonora, and Jorah watched Dylan’s people drive away, heading back to their home.

“They still look at us as if they can’t believe we are real,” Ian said with a chuckle.

Sonora looped her arm through her husband’s. “I’m married to you, and sometimes I have trouble believing it.”

“I wonder what their reaction would be if they knew about the time-travel?” asked Jorah.

“Don’t tell them,” Sonora said. “Their heads may pop—at least some of them.”

Jorah looked at her with a worried expression.

She quickly reassured him. “It wouldn’t literally. It’s just an expression. It means it would be too much for them.”

“Then we must keep it to ourselves. We do not want our new friends to explode.”

“Good idea,” Sonora said, a little too quickly.

“What have you been up to my dear little wife?”

“Nothing, my love. Nothing at all,” she said as she waved at Skye.

Fifty-Seven

Cabin on the Mountian

Skye sat on the front porch of their cabin, taking in the spectacular pink sunrise making its way over the mountain.

The door beside her opened and Dylan handed her a cup of steaming coffee.

She took a sip as he seated himself in the wooden chair beside her. When he settled, she took his hand.

Skye tightened her hand around his. “I had given up hope of ever seeing this again—ever sitting here with you again.”

Dylan grunted his agreement. “Had a few shaky moments myself. It’s why we needed to get back here. To prove to ourselves all that was really over.”

“This cabin has always been your safe place—your place to heal, hasn’t it?”

“Yep. It’s yours now too.”

“Yes, I believe it is,” Skye said with a happy sigh.

Sue Ellen popped her head out the front door, rubbing one eye. “I was gonna start breakfast if that’s okay with you. Tricia taught me an awesome biscuit recipe I wanted to make for you. Well, me and Kelsey.”

Dylan winked at her. “I’m always up for biscuits.”

“That sounds wonderful, Sue Ellen. Thank you,” Skye added.

Once the girl had gone back inside, she turned to Dylan. “I can’t believe the change in her. What did you do when I was gone?”

“Had a few heart-to-hearts is all. She just needed to realize she was safe—that we have her back. And Tricia has given her a purpose now, too.”

“I love that she helps Tricia make and deliver food to the older ones. They all love Sue Ellen so much.”

“I ain’t sure if it’s the food or those blonde curls of hers they look forward to more.”

Skye laughed.

“Speaking of changes, you’re a morning girl now, uh?”

“Well, I’m not promising to stay that way, but I just can’t stay in bed when I know I have a beautiful new day to start with you.” Skye leaned against Dylan’s shoulder.

“I like hearing that.”

Dylan kissed the top of her head and stared out over the mountains. “Darlin’, I’d hoped to be more patient with this, but I can’t be.”

Skye raised her head, a puzzled expression on her face. “Patient with what?”

“Our wedding, darlin’. I’ve been wanting to say those words to you for a while now. I say it’s past time.”

“We’ve hardly been home a week.”

“Yeah, but we’re settled back in now, and Wade’s gonna be heading back down for more of the cure now that’s he’s delivered it to all the communities around here. They may not send him back up this way, and I’d like him to be here.”

“Of course. I hadn’t thought of that.”

Skye laid her hand on Dylan’s rough cheek. “I’m as eager as you are. Name the day.”

He gave her a slow grin. “As soon as we can get this thing together.”

“Okay.” Skye giggled. “Let’s see. I have that gorgeous dress Sonora gave me. I could wear that. We could hold the wedding outside if the weather is good and inside the courthouse, if it isn’t. Perhaps, everyone will bring a dish.”

“Course they will. That’s the way we do things here on Cole’s Mountain. Always have, always will.”

“I love that.”

“I love you.”

Someone cleared their throat, and Skye pulled away from Dylan.

Travis stood beside the porch. The young man had somehow won Sue Ellen’s affections and was often at the cabin. “Sorry to—well, I didn’t mean—” He cleared his throat again. “Sue Ellen said to come for breakfast. Is that okay, sir?”

Dylan waved him in. “Sure, she’s in there cookin’ now.”

Travis rushed into the house.

“The third piece in Sue Ellen’s change of personality,” Skye said with a smile.

“He’s a great kid, but if he doesn’t stop callin’ me “sir”, I’m gonna refuse to let him in the house.”

“No, you won’t. We need him to keep Sue Ellen nice.”

“That’s the thing that confounds me. When I left, all she did was spit at him like an angry wet cat.”

“Some relationships start that way. I wasn’t all that happy with you when we first met.”

Dylan ran a hand down Skye’s hair. “I sure was taken with you. I was just too scared to admit it.”

“I’m taken with you now. Does that count?”

“It sure does, darlin’.”

Sue Ellen’s voice rang out. “Breakfast is ready!”

The smell of fresh biscuits enveloped them as they walked into the kitchen. Travis held plates as Sue Ellen plopped eggs onto them. Bacon sizzled on a cast iron pan.

Jesse waved Skye over and patted the seat beside him. Kelsey, who spent as much time here as the Doctor’s house, sat on Jesse’s other side.

Wade sat at the end of the table, rambling on about some story or another.

The entire scene wrapped around Skye like a warm, fuzzy blanket. She needed to pinch herself to make sure it was real. Tears sprang to her eyes.

“Darlin’?” Dylan leaned toward her, a concerned expression on his face.

Skye waved a finger in front of her face. “Happy. Happy tears.”

He smiled as they took their seats at the table. Everyone quieted.

Dylan looked at everyone. “Well, I’m kinda surprised I’m saying this, but I think sayin’ Grace is in order. I’m feelin’ real appreciative. How about that?”

Everyone agreed.

“If there’s a day to start showing our appreciation, today is a good one. This here is the beginning of a new, better life,” Wade said. “We got each other, and we got the Atlantians who are willin’ to help us. And there’s a cute little Atlantian girl I got my eye on. I could use some help with courtin’ her.”

“Wade. It doesn’t work that way with them!” Jesse said.

“Yeah, that’s why I need some help.”

The group exploded into laughter.

“I’d be more worried about you, Wade,” Skye said. “But I know there are several ladies on this mountain with an eye on you.”

Wade raised an eyebrow. “There are? Well now, that’s something to consider, ain’t it?”

While Wade mulled over his romantic possibilities, the rest of them dug into their breakfast as they sent him amused glances.

Fifty-Eight

A Better World

Every resident of the mountain had shown up for the wedding. There were even a few visitors. Ian and Sonora. And Dylan’s father and family had made it, too.

Dylan proudly stood in front of them all.

They hadn’t gone far for their special day, only the front yard. But the day was beautiful, bright and blue, and the view was the old mountaintops. What more did one need?

He pulled at his collar, still surprised that he had not only consented to wear a suit but actually suggested it. He’d even trimmed his hair and shaved. That’s how much this day meant to him.

It’s what he’d always dreamed of—but never thought he’d have. He’d been sure he wasn’t good enough, and he didn’t know the first thing about doing right by a family.

Until Skye had shown up. She’d burst into his life like the sun rising over the mountain. Every bit as beautiful, every bit as blinding.

Look at her now, coming down the aisle toward him, Jesse at her side. They were a package deal, and Dylan loved the boy as if he were his own blood.

Every day he thanked the Lord for her, for all of them. Wade, Sue Ellen and Kelsey too. They were all part of the big happy family he had yearned for.

Somehow it would seem that much more real when they said the words, made those vows and slid on the rings.

Their marriage would be a forever one—just like Atlantians’.

Dylan knew it every time he stared into Skye’s green eyes. They were made for each other.

Dylan watched Skye take one delicate step after another until she was face to face with him. Her beauty overwhelmed him.

From the bright wildflowers that wreathed her dark hair to the small light-green shoes that matched her delicate dress.

She smiled at him, her entire face beaming.

It was almost more than he could take. He swallowed—once, twice, then three times—before he got himself under control.

But she knew.

Skye’s gaze never left him. “I feel the same way,” she whispered.

Skye smiled as she sunk deeper and deeper into Dylan’s gaze.

This was her day—their day. And if they wanted to stare at each other for half of it, that’s what they would do.

It was Tricia’s giggle that broke their gaze. Skye sent her an amused glance. She supposed if she were in the audience, she’d want things to move on too.

There would be time and more time for long gazes after the wedding.

Skye turned and hugged Jesse, happy he walked her down the aisle. He was as much a part of this marriage as she was.

She handed her bouquet of wildflowers to Sue Ellen and kissed her on the forehead. The girl was quickly becoming a treasure.

Then she turned to Kelsey, who stood beside her and wrapped her arms around her.

“My girl. We made it!” she whispered to her.

The girl beamed and hugged her back.

Turning back to Dylan, she slipped her hands into his. She smiled and nodded at her cousin, Tom, who stood ready to marry them.

With such a shortage of government, it had been decided that Tom would become the town’s magistrate and could now perform marriages.

Tom smiled and began.

The words rolled over Skye, making the already beautiful day more perfect. When it was time to say her vows, she stepped closer to Dylan to make sure he heard every word of them. Her voice shook with emotion.

It was her forever vow. There was no doubt in her heart and mind about that.

Dylan’s deep voice quivered a bit as he recited his. He ended them with, “I love you more than life, darlin’, and I always will.”

Skye couldn’t have wished for a more perfect vow—for a more perfect wedding. When Tom introduced them as man and wife, she couldn’t be more proud to stand by her husband.

The next morning Skye was the first to wake. She smiled at the sleeping Dylan, then wrapped a blanket around herself and walked to the window, allowing him to sleep.

As if he’d noticed her absence, he woke and came to stand beside her.

She held out part of her blanket, and Dylan stepped into it, folding it around them both.

The sun was low in the sky, but shining bright.

“Another beautiful day,” Skye said.

“Yep, sure is.”

“I want every day to be just as beautiful as yesterday.”

“It sure would be nice.”

As much as Skye wished for that, she wasn’t a fool. Absolutely perfect days did not exist in an imperfect world.

But things were looking up.

The Atlantians continued to hand out the cure and seemed to enjoy the travel.

The cure had been given out to most, if not all the communities in this area. And some who had been in the late stages of AgFlu were now free of the disease with the additional help of the Atlantian’s healers.

At first, most communities were suspicious of the Atlantians, but they quickly got used to their kind, mannerly ways. And communities who thought to take advantage of the undersea people quickly learned that Atlantians always had the upper hand.

Once people got used to them, the Atlantians seemed to have a stabilizing influence. The ancient among them often acted as wise advisors. Especially when Humans realized how old they actually were.

And now that the AgFlu was gone, some of the fear had left too. Already, more communities were starting to communicate and trade with each other on a regular basis.

Yes, things were looking up.

“We can make this world better, right? Not perfect, but better?” Skye asked tentatively.

“We can.” He squeezed her tight. “We will—with some help from our new friends. I reckon we can make it better than the one we lost. We gotta try.”

“Yes. Let’s try.”

Kelsey, Sue Ellen, and Jesse ran past the window on their way to somewhere.

Skye and Dylan laughed.

“Let do it for us—but for them too,” Skye said, snuggling closer to Dylan. “For their future, and their children’s future, and generations on.”

Dylan leaned down and tenderly kissed Skye’s forehead.

“You got it, Darlin’.”

The End

Continue on for news of a new series!

Afterword

This concludes the Sanctuary’s Aggression Series. It will always have a special place in my heart.

Sharp-eyed readers will see that I have left some small loose ends throughout the series. That was on purpose. Over time, I may write some stand-alone books in this world.

I sincerely hope you have enjoyed the special characters in this series as much as I have.

I’ve started writing a new series, What Used To Be Series.

This is the description of the first book, What Used To Be Texas.

Five years after The Fall, sixteen-year-old Molly is alone. Out of supplies, she has no choice but to go to the one town her grandfather told her never to enter.

Gramps was sure something bad was happening there, something worse than everything else going on around them--something evil.

Molly will eventually encounters three other main characters - a grieving mother out for revenge, the teen leader of a band of orphans, and an ex-cop who carries secrets, including answers about The Fall and the monsters now stalking them. Only together can they defeat the evil set on overtaking them.

What Used To Be Texas will be released by chapter weekly, as I write them, on Kindle Vella as soon as it opens. After the series is written, I plan on releasing it in ebook and paperback.

Check my author page at Amazon., my website at mairadawn.com or my newsletter for updates.

You, dear reader, are who these books are for. I enjoy writing them, but without readers, they would sit in some dusty drawer. Where’s the fun in that?

So enjoy this and any other books that may come your way.

Reading breathes joy into our lives, enriches it in a way nothing else can. It gives us dreams, hopes, and wonders.

Books wrap us in their sturdy pages and sail us to new, exciting worlds. And we joyfully go for the ride.

Maira :)

About the Author

Sanctuary’s Aggression was Maira Dawn’s first book and series. Maira first wrote on Wattpad and quickly developed a large following. Sanctuary’s Aggression hit #1 on Wattpad in Science Fiction, Pandemic and other categories. The series was then released on Amazon and has hit Amazon’s top 100 in many categories including YA Post-apocalyptic where it was on the top 100 for over a year.

If you enjoyed this book, I’d love to hear about it. Leaving a review on Amazon or Goodreads is a big help to indie authors. :)

You can also find me on Facebook or Amazon . If you would like to sign up for my newsletter, you can do so at www.mairadawn.com. News of deals on my books will always be shared there, and I always share deals on other books too!

Facebook

Twitter

Instagram

Also by Maira Dawn

Sanctuary’s Aggression Series in order of release:

Sanctuary’s Aggression 1

The Road: Sanctuary’s Aggression 2

The Climb: Sanctuary’s Aggression 3

The Girl: Kelsey’s Story - A Novelette

Seabound: The Beginning Prequel 1

Seabound: The Atlantis Cure Prequel 2

The Trial: Sanctuary’s Aggression 4

The Rescue: Sanctuary’s Aggression 5

Also available as 3 box sets.

All these books can be found at Amazon.

Coming Soon!

What Used To Be Series

What used to be Texas - Book 1

Released on Kindle Vella as the series is written.

Released in book form once it is completed.

* * *