Chapter Text
there must be some kinda way outta here
said the joker to the thief
Bob Dylan, "All Along the Watchtower"
June 15 - Abilene, La
Before she even opened her eyes she knew something was wrong.
How could this be a dream? She could feel the sun-warmed earth under her back. Smell its dry mineral scent. Hear the dusty rustling of something—corn, she found out when she finally peeked—in the breeze.
She had fallen asleep in her bed in Abilene, Louisiana and somehow woken in a goddamn corn field.
It had to be a dream, because she didn't believe in aliens, at least not the kind that beamed people up from their beds and dropped them off in corn fields. She pushed herself to her feet and tried to get her bearings, but the corn was taller than she was.
Early, she thought, for corn that high.
She thought she could hear, off in the distance, the familiar twang of guitar strings. Another person? Or a radio?
"Hello?" she called.
Silence and the wind were the only reply.
"Hello?" she said again, louder. "Is anyone out there? Hello?!"
"Kai?"
The voice was familiar to her, as familiar as her own. He sounded far away, further even than the guitar.
"Nick?!" she cried. "Nick, is that you?"
"Kai! I'm coming! Keep shouting!"
She opened her mouth to call for him again, but above her head the sky darkened and thunder rumbled to drown out her voice. She shivered in the sudden chill.
"Edie…," another, much closer voice whispered. Now that was a familiar name, the one everyone called her. She hadn't been called Kai since her mother died thirteen years ago, yet it had sounded so right. Perfectly familiar.
"Kai! Where are you? Say something!" the first voice called.
She opened her mouth to answer, but shot a look over her shoulder at the hissing whisper behind her.
"Edie…this way…we know where you belong."
We? she thought. We who?
She stepped toward that second voice and reached out to the wall of stalks. Her fingers trembled. Above her the thunder rolled. The wind rocked the corn, and she squinted to see between the green and gold wave. Dark. The sun swallowed by clouds, and darkness in the field.
"Kai!" His voice was faint now, clearly heading away from her, and at that thought her heart lurched in a painful spasm of loss.
"Nick!" she cried and spun away from the beckoning hiss. "Nick, over here! Don't lose me!"
Back in her own bed, she awoke with a jerk and an incoherent cry. Sweat coated her in a thin film and the sheet was wrapped around her legs like a winding cloth. She kicked it away in a fury of claustrophobia and fell back against the pillow panting like a cornered animal.
What the fuck?! She'd never heard that voice before in her life, but she'd known it, known the man behind it as well as she knew herself. Better, maybe. Nick. Had she ever even met anyone named Nick? Surely, at some point, but she couldn't recall him now.
And he'd called her Kai. Her middle name. The name her mom had chosen for her, a reminder of crystal blue waters that surrounded the Hawaiian home of her childhood, of her native Hawaiian blood.
She let out a ragged sigh and threw her legs over the edge of the bed. It was almost seven AM. Maybe that was the problem: she'd stayed up too late last night arguing over those fucking divorce papers, and now she'd slept too late in the morning, and her brain was sending her bizarre, overly-realistic dreams as a result.
It made as much sense as anything else.
Out of bed now, she pulled on her running clothes: running pants, sports bra, t-shirt, those fancy socks she'd splurged on to prevent blisters; and wandered toward the kitchen.
And where the fuck was Remy? He'd said he would be in around midnight last night, but there was no sign of him in the little bungalow (he was 6'5" and nearly impossible to miss), and only her car sat in the driveway. Scowling, she flipped the switch on the coffeemaker and went to find her phone. Maybe he'd gotten tired on the road and stopped in somewhere, or maybe he'd decided to head to his place instead of hers.
She was just passing back through the living room on her way to the bedroom when she heard a car engine outside. Speak of the damn devil. She opened the front door and winced at the heavy, humid air that invaded her air conditioned space. An entire life lived in the South, and she still hated the heat and humidity.
"Rem!" she said as he poured himself out of the truck. "There you are! You're like seven hours late."
He stumbled closer (drunk? no…), and when he raised his head to look at her she couldn't suppress a flinch. Something was very wrong, and she didn't think it was drink. She knew what a drunk man looked like; this wasn't it.
"Jesus Christ, you look like shit," she said at last. She tried to keep her voice light, but something in it trembled.
He didn't seem to notice. "Feel like shit." He dragged himself up the porch stairs and she stepped back to let him in past her. "Got some kinda cold or flu or somethin'. Started feelin' bad yesterday afternoon. Figured I could push through, but I had to stop for some sleep. Wanted to get home, though. Left outta there like five. Fuck, babe, help me. Room's all spinnin'."
"Yeah," she said, breaking out of the trance the sight of him had frozen her into. "Yeah, of course. Let's get you in bed and I'll make you some tea and some soup."
As she stepped closer and tucked herself under his arm she couldn't help but notice the heat that radiated from him, and how bad his breathing sounded: thick, labored, nearly choking. There was swelling under his jaw and in the armpit pressed against her shoulder. They made it to the bedroom, and she tugged his boots off as he flopped across the bed, the frame creaking in alarmed protest at his sudden weight.
"Have you taken anything?" she said, though she already knew the answer.
"Fuck no. I got an immune system, don't I?"
Maybe, she thought. Seems to be in the weeds at the moment. "Well. Let's help it out a little, why don't we?" She frowned down at him and pressed the back of her hand against his sweaty forehead. "Rem, you're burning up. Like, seriously hot. Let me go get the thermometer, and…I think I should call the doctor."
"Doctor?" He broke off to cough, deep and rumbling and scary as shit. "What's the doc gonna do? Gimme some Tylenol and tell me to drink fluids. I'll be fine, Eds." He said it with a long e, though it sounded slurred and garbled in his illness-thickened voice.
"Maybe more than that. At least let me call Sarah."
He gave a clogged snort. "Great idea, genius. Might as well put a shotgun to my head."
Something in his tone made her pulse kick up several unpleasant notches. That…wasn't how he talked to her. To anyone, but especially not to her. Remy hated doctors and despised being sick, but in the six years she'd known him, that was the closest he'd ever been to sounding…mean.
He cracked a bloodshot eye and glared at her. "You just gonna stand there useless as a bump on a pickle, Eden d'Arnaud, or you gonna get me my goddamn soup?"
She took two slow steps backwards. "Sure, Rem," she said, her voice low and even. "I'll be right back." It took all her self control not to run once she was in the hall, and when she got to the kitchen she gripped the counter with both hands and dragged in several rough, gasping breaths.
Useless as a bump on a pickle. It was one of her father's favorite sayings. The guys at the DMV were useless as a bump on a pickle. The LSU offensive line when they let the QB get sacked. His idiot boss down at the refinery. And, of course, Edie herself when she didn't do exactly as he wanted before he even asked for it.
She hadn't heard that turn of phrase since she was seventeen, and she sure as fuck hadn't missed it. Hearing it now, from Remy's mouth, when he had come home so sick out of nowhere and not at all himself….
And her name. Her full name (minus the middle; that one had belonged to her mother alone). She was having a weird morning with names and it wasn't even eight yet. He'd sounded just like her father, exactly like him, and Remy had never met the man. Never heard more than a few passing anecdotes, most of them good, because for all that he'd been an abusive, drunken bastard, it hadn't been all bad. Not every second.
She should call Sarah. Remy would bitch about it, and Sarah wouldn't exactly be thrilled to hear from her (Hey, if you're not busy could you maybe come check on my snotty boyfriend? 'Kay thanks bye!), but she'd come. She hadn't been a practicing doctor since they'd opened the restaurant, but it wasn't like all those years of medical school had just evaporated.
She was reaching for her phone when she remembered she'd left it in the bedroom. Fuck. Okay, no problem. She'd make the soup, and when she went to drop it off she'd grab her phone, call Sarah, and maybe go for her run. But the way Remy looked she wasn't sure she should leave him alone.
She stood chewing her lip in a long moment of indecision until she shook herself out of it. Now was not the time to go deer-in-the-headlights. Remy had frozen some of his homemade chicken soup just last month. He'd want that rather than the canned crap, even though it would take longer to heat up. In the meantime she could bring him a slice of the bread she'd made last night, with honey. And the tea.
Eden Kai!
She dropped the box of teabags with a clatter and spun around. No. Remy was the only other person in the house. Dreams about random voices calling her name combined with this morning's weirdness…no wonder she was hearing things.
Eden Kai! Get out of that house. They comin' for him. They comin' for YOU!
She let out a soft cry and pressed a hand to her mouth. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?! Was she having a psychotic break? Imagining Remy was turning into her father and hearing random voices from the sky?!
They comin', little girl. Get out NOW!
A woman's voice, warm and deep but cracked with age. Commanding like nothing she'd ever heard before. Remy was sick. Sick as she'd ever seen. What if he'd picked up some exotic new bug on his trip to Texas? Something super contagious—deadly even. Something the government might want to contain.
But could she just leave him? Leave him to…die. Because that's what was happening. He was dying. Anyone with eyes could see it. No one could sustain a fever that high, could live with that much phlegm bubbling in their lungs. Whatever it was he had, she'd have it now too. So what was the point of running?
The voice must know something she didn't. Something about Remy, or about her. As insane as it was to listen to random voices in the air, nothing about the last two hours of her life (dream-time included) could be described as normal, so at this point what the fuck did she have to lose?
She headed for the bedroom and paused a second to listen to Remy's breathing. It seemed to have gotten worse. He made low noises of distress and tossed and turned on the mattress. What kind of heartless monster could just leave him like this? Alone and dying?
If the voice was right, he wouldn't be alone for long. Whoever was coming would know how to take care of him, maybe even have a cure.
Mind made up, she hurried to the closet and burrowed her way to the back of it. She kept a bag there, a bug-out bag, and after a few moments' digging, her hand closed on the strap and she yanked it free. In it were a few changes of clothes, cash, a fake ID, and some other essentials for the modern girl on the run.
"Edie?" Remy moaned from the bed. "Eds, that you?"
He sounded like himself again, though weak and sick. She hesitated. "Yeah, babe, it's me. Try to get some rest. Help is coming."
"Help?" He let out a rasping, choking laugh that chilled her to the marrow. "Ain't no help for me, baby girl. Them's buzzards that's comin', that's all. Buzzards for m'eyes and jackals for m'bones." He jerked upright, his wild eyes fixed and staring, and raised a meaty hand to point straight at her. "Then they're comin' for you, Edie. Comin' to eat you all up! The coyotes is his, baby girl, and they're lookin' for you! They know what you did!" He laughed again until he coughed, and he coughed until she thought it might kill him.
Eyes huge in a naturally tan face suddenly gone deathly pale, she took several steps back toward the door and stumbled from the room. In the kitchen she shoved some protein bars and bottles of water into her bag, yanked her shoes onto her feet, and grabbed her keys from the hook by the door.
She closed her eyes and slumped against the wall. Fuck. She'd forgotten her phone again. It was on the nightstand. By the bed. The bed Remy was currently in.
She shuddered once, hard. No. Forget it. Whoever was coming for him could use it to track her, and who the fuck did she have to call anyway? Besides Sarah, but if they were coming for Remy, and they were coming for her, they'd be watching Sarah. And the restaurant.
Before she'd even made the final decision she found herself in the car. She started it and gripped the steering wheel with shaking hands. Okay. Leaving. Driving away with Remy sick nearly to death in her bed and at the direction of a disembodied voice shouting at her in the kitchen.
Just go, she told herself. Just put the car in drive and get the fuck out of here.
And so that's just what she did.
June 16 - Watts, OK
The morning after Edie d'Arnaud, the woman he'd come to know as Kai but who he didn't know at all just yet, took off from her Louisiana home, Nick Andros slept in a hayloft and dreamt.
A cornfield, the stalks higher than his head. The distant sound of music, and the even more distant call of a woman's voice. His name. Urgently, like her heart would break if she didn't find him. And he called back to her as though his would too, and dream-Nick never stopped to wonder how he recognized music or the sound of his own name, since he'd never heard either of those things before.
As he called her, what struck him as odd wasn't that he was speaking it, aloud, with a voice waking-Nick didn't possess, but that as he said it he signed water over and over. Water and sometimes sea, a series of waves with both hands, but that didn't seem strong enough, too gentle and easy to describe the human force of nature that was the woman he sought.
But as his eyes snapped open and the dream washed away in a confused memory, he knew he'd never met her at all. Of course he didn't know the voice; he'd never heard a voice before in his life; but he didn't know the name, either. Kai. Thoughtfully he signed it as he had in the dream: water. He rolled over and dug his phone out of his backpack. He had to guess at the spelling, but apparently he got it right, because his Google search told him that the word kai meant sea in native Hawaiian, and also in Japanese.
Water, he thought. Maybe a little simplistic, even insulting, for someone named after the ocean. But then that hardly mattered, because she was just a weird figment of his subconscious anyway. Like the corn and the music and the freak thunderstorm.
Like the crows that cawed like death omens and the coyotes that circled on padded feet.
Nick shuddered and hid his phone away again. It was his last day working the farm before he headed north, further into Oklahoma and then maybe after that up into Arkansas, and if he didn't get his ass moving he'd miss breakfast. He was skinny enough, and the work was hard enough, without skipping meals.
He tugged his dark curls back into a stub of a ponytail with a frustrated grimace. He needed a haircut, but that would have to wait until after he got paid. In the meantime he had to keep it out of his face, because he couldn't stand messing with it all day.
It was already hot up in the loft, and only going to get hotter as the day went on. By the time he returned to his makeshift bed, well after dark, it would have cooled enough to make sleeping bearable, but only just.
He really didn't have enough hours of sleep time to waste having bizarre dreams about cornfields.
He found himself signing her name (or his version of it) again as he got dressed, the way other people might hum or whistle. He'd known her, in the dream. Been desperate to find her, like if he didn't the world would end and he'd be stuck in that fucking cornfield forever.
He descended the ladder, and as he rounded the corner one of the farm hands sneezed into a bandana, three times in violent succession. Nick signed a quick bless you, and he nodded his thanks.
"Summer cold comin' on, I reckon," he said. "Don't got time for it, so let's hope it just passes on through."
Nick nodded in commiseration. They had fence to run up in the north pasture, something that would take most of the day, and then they had to move the animals out of the south pasture…but that would probably be tomorrow. One more night here, two more days, and he'd move on. He didn't like to overstay his welcome, and once the work moved more into cowboy stuff, that wasn't really his area. Cows and horses were fine, but they made him nervous.
He rolled up his sleeves and dragged a forearm across his sweaty forehead. Maybe at his next stop he could look for something indoors.
The hand sneezed again, twice, before he shoved the bandana into his back pocket, wiped his palms on his jeans, and headed toward the yard. Nick made a mental note not to shake hands with him today and followed him into the already blazing sun.
Notes:
Here's the endnote I promised. I want to clarify a few things, since we're dealing with a 42-year-old book with 2 adaptations, and maybe y'all are wondering what this is actually fanfiction OF! Easy question: all 3. Sort of.
MOSTLY this is based on the book and the 94 mini-series, but I've incorporated a few elements from the 2020 adaptation that I actually liked. A very few, because there weren't many I'm not gonna lie. Let's see...
- Some of the casting choices: Larry, Stu, the change from Ralph to Rae Brentner, and like...half Alexander Skarsgard. My Flagg is like a Jamey Sheridan/Alexander Skarsgard combo pack. You'll see later on. Also Nick. I'm imagining Nick as like if Dev Patel and Henry Zaga (as he looks playing Nick) had a love child. I know Dev Patel is a hearing actor, and I wouldn't want to see him playing Nick any more than Rob Lowe or Henry Zaga, but inside my own head, that's the look we're going for. If you'd rather imagine him looking like Henry Zaga alone, without Dev Patel genes, that's fine. If you wanna go Rob Lowe, that's cool too. I don't mind; it's your head!
- One or two of the plot choices. That'll be more apparent in the latter half of the story, so don't really worry about it right now.
Basically we're following Nick's story line as it unfolds in the book/94 miniseries, and eventually we'll make it to Boulder and etc with everyone else. But for now I'm leaving them out because I'm not rewriting the entire book. As I said.
I had like this whole long endnote planned out and now I can't remember any of it. Lordt. Oh well, if it's important I'll remember. On to chapter 2...
Chapter 2: Shoyo
Summary:
Nick gets his ass kicked, and Kai makes it to Shoyo.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
there's too much confusion
i can't get no relief
Bob Dylan, "Along Along the Watchtower"
June 20 - somewhere in AR
She'd been on the road several days, heading north and ever-so-slightly west, but mostly just wandering. That day, as the sun crossed the highest part of the sky, she crossed the border into Arkansas. Bill and Hillary country, once upon a time. How times have changed, she thought as she passed a trailer park flying an enormous Confederate battle flag out front.
She'd been sticking to back roads mostly, avoiding highways and cops and traffic cameras. She had no idea how badly they (whoever they were) might want to find her, or how hard they'd be looking for her, and she hadn't heard the warning voice again. She'd had the dream every night since the first, though, with the corn and the guitar and the searching for a man named Nick she knew-but-didn't-know.
At one point yesterday morning she thought she'd lost her goddamn mind, completely overreacted and left a sick man alone to possibly die. She'd stopped at a cruddy little store and bought a burner flip phone, and when she dialed Remy's cell a voice she didn't recognize picked up on the second ring.
"Remy Broussard's phone. Who's calling?" The voice was clipped, professional, and had no real accent to speak of. Definitely not a local.
"May I speak to Remy please?" she said.
There was a brief pause. "Mr. Broussard just stepped away. May I ask who's calling?"
"May I ask who's answering?"
Another pause, this one longer. Then, "Miss d'Arnaud, Mr. Broussard is very ill. You should get back here, quickly. You could be infected. It's imperative we examine you right away."
She made a low noise of amusement. "Do I sound infected? And it's Ms." She snapped the phone shut, pulled the battery, and tossed each piece into a separate trash can.
She had no idea how long it actually took to trace someone's phone—far less time than in the movies, she was sure—and she cursed herself for having to get the last, stupid word. At least she knew she wasn't paranoid, or crazy. They were looking for her. They were probably looking for everyone Remy had come into contact with between point of infection and Abilene.
Which only covered…fuck. Half of East goddamn Texas. If whatever Remy had was bad enough to get black helicopter types involved, how the hell could they possibly hope to contain it at this point? He'd flown from New Orleans to Dallas, then road tripped from Dallas back to Abilene. That was hundreds of miles of territory.
Anyway, all of that had been yesterday. She'd spent the night in a shitty motel and gotten back on the road before dawn. She was tired and cranky from lack of sleep. She missed real food. She missed her bed. But the dreams kept pushing her on, north, north, west a bit, and dream-Edie wandered a cornfield searching for a man she'd never met.
A few hours into Arkansas she stopped again and bought another phone and a roadmap. She didn't call anyone this time. She just wanted it for…comfort reasons. Habit. She wasn't sure. She wanted to call Sarah, but that was stupid. She was probably pissed as hell at Edie for running off without a word, leaving the restaurant in the lurch like she had. Well. What had she spent the last two years grooming Alma for, if not to take over for her one day?
Everywhere she went people seemed to be sniffling and sneezing. Probably her imagination. Confirmation bias, or whatever it was called. She couldn't get the memory of Remy's face out of her mind, the wheezing sound of his breath, that goddamn cough fit to rip him in two. So of course she saw sick people everywhere; it was all she could think about.
She tried to distract herself with the radio, but out in the middle of nowhere she just got Christian talk and country. At one point through the static she caught the bars of that new song everyone was calling the song of the summer. She had it stuck in her head the rest of the day, and she kept singing the chorus to herself: Baby, can you dig your man?/He's a righteous man… She had no idea what the next line was, so it was a little infuriating.
Sometime after dark she stopped at another shitty motel and checked in using her fake ID. Places like this took cash, which was good. You just had to make sure you kept your door locked and your curtains closed. Once safely in her room, she took a long shower, brushed her teeth, braided off her long dark hair, and crawled between the sheets.
Despite the groaning, spitting noise the AC made and the traffic sounds outside, plus the arguing coming through the thin wall from one side, and the coughing fits from the other, she fell asleep fast, and soon she was dreaming.
The corn field again, but this time when she called for Nick only silence answered. Where was he? Had he stopped looking for her? Had something happened to him? She shoved her way through the sharp stalks and stumbled out into a clearing, the dooryard of a small house. An ancient apple tree bloomed nearby and a tire swing hung from it. Everything was old, worn, but tidy. She was reminded strongly of her Grandmère's cottage in a forgotten, swampy corner of Louisiana. Different climate, same vibe: love, comfort, and, above all, home.
An old Black woman sat on the porch lightly strumming a well-worn guitar. She was tiny and white-haired and quite possibly the oldest person Edie had ever seen. When she saw Edie she smiled without teeth and beckoned her closer with one clawed hand. "There you are, li'l girl. Took you long enough to get here. Get lost in the corn?"
Edie's mouth fell open. She knew that voice. "It's you," she said. "You're the one—you told me to leave."
She wagged her head back and forth. "Mayhap I is, mayhap I ain't. The Lord works in mysterious ways. It ain't just an old sayin'."
She stopped at the foot of the porch and looked up into the dark, lined face. "Who are you?"
The woman let out a rough chuckle. "My name's Abagail Freemantle. Folks 'round these parts call me Mother Abagail. I'm one-hundred-eight years old, and I still make my own bread."
Her eyes brightened. Now they were speaking the same language. "Sourdough? Do you use your own starter? Have you been using the same one your whole life? What kind of flour do you use? I bet it's good bread-weather around here. Sometimes it's so humid in Louisiana I think it'll never rise. I had to have these special dehumidifiers installed in the bakery. Sarah was so mad, but some people just don't get it."
She paused. Flushed. "I'm sorry. I just really love—bread."
Mother Abagail laughed again, this time so hard she shook all over. "Never apologize for what you love, chile. Now listen: you go find your man, up Shoyo way, then you come to see me. I'm in Hemingford Home, Nebraska. I'll tell you anything you wanna know about my bread. My cornbread too!"
"My…man? Do you mean Remy? You told me to leave him, remember?"
She waved that away. "You know exactly who I mean, Ms. Eden. Nick Andros. He's waitin' on you."
"Where is he?" she said. She glanced around the empty yard. A chill breeze brushed her and a cloud passed over the sun. She crossed her arms around her middle. "Usually he's here. We're looking for each other. That's how—the dream goes. Usually."
"Hmmm." She sighed and pushed herself to her feet and leaned heavily on a cane. "Head on to Shoyo now, hear? This time he needs you to find him."
Nick wasn't sleeping. He'd just had the shit kicked out of him on the road outside Shoyo, Arkansas, and while he certainly wasn't awake, he wasn't asleep, either. He was, in fact, knocked senseless, passed out and sprawled inelegantly across a bunk in the Shoyo town jail.
Apparently being knocked senseless didn't interfere with dreaming, because when Nick opened his eyes he quickly had to screw them shut against the blinding sun. The corn field again. He didn't hear Kai, but the music was closer than ever.
He rose, wincing from some phantom pain (dream-Nick had no memory of the beating), and worked his way through the corn. He parted the last row and emerged into a dusty dooryard in front of a small, faded house with a deep front porch. He paused to study the old apple tree with its cloud of blossoms and tire swing. This place felt…good. Warm and safe and kind. It felt like home.
An old woman sat on the porch, and when she saw him she set the stringed instrument (a guitar?) aside and gestured him to her.
"Why if it ain't Nick Andros. I been waitin' on you. Come on, come in, I ain't gonna bite."
Nick took several hesitant steps closer. She was so tiny, so frail-looking. The oldest person he had ever seen in his life, and he was afraid even the gentle summer breeze might blow her away like a bit of dandelion fluff. But, maybe she had some answers for him. "Where am I?" he said. "Why can I hear? And talk?"
She lifted her hands in a shrug. "You always had a voice, Nick. But I don't know sign, so maybe this is the Lord's way of makin' sure we can understand each other."
He chewed that over. "And so I could hear her," he finally said. He looked around like Kai might be hiding in the corn. "Is she here? Why isn't she calling me?"
The woman chuckled, low and rusty. "She asked the same thing. No, she ain't here. You just missed her. I told her exactly what I'm gonna tell you, Nick. My name's Abagail Freemantle, but folks call me Mother Abagail. You ain't in no shape to go gallivantin', so you stay put right where you are. Ms. Eden's headin' your way, sure as Sunday."
"Eden?" His face twisted in a frown and he scrubbed a hand through his dark curls. "Who the h—uh. Who's that? That's not…her name. Not the one I know."
Her head tilted as she studied him.
"I call her Kai," he said, lamely. He shifted his weight and scuffed a little at the dirt. Suddenly he felt silly. Why was he talking to this woman like she was real? Like there was a real person attached to the name he called out in his dreams?
"Kai," she said as though it answered a question. She gave a satisfied nod. "That ain't her name so much as who she is."
His full mouth quirked. "A force of nature," he said.
She made a gesture of agreement, then tapped a fingertip against the arm of her rocker to make sure he was listening. "Now, Nick, you wait for her, and then once you're healed up a bit, you two come visit me. Hemingford Home, Nebraska."
"Why would I need to heal up? I'm fine."
A long, sad sigh. "You wake on up now, Nick. Remember what I said: Mother Abagail in Hemingford Home. I'll be waitin' right here."
After the Mother Abagail dream faded Edie had slipped into deep, dreamless sleep, but she was thrown out of it with a cry as she tumbled off the bed and onto the cheap carpet. For a few moments she couldn't move. Her breath came in rough gasps and pain radiated through every inch of her.
God what now?!
Slowly she sat up and climbed back onto the bed. Nick. Something had happened to Nick. Was that why he hadn't been in her dream? She pressed a hand to her aching back. The old woman—Mother Abagail—had told her to find him in Shoyo, so surely he wasn't dead. Just hurt. And badly, if her own condition was any indication.
She rose on sore, unsteady legs and dug around for the map. Flipping on the bedside lamp, she spread the map across the extra bed and figured out where she was now. She moved her fingertip north and west up 63 until she came to a tiny dot labeled Shoyo.
"Okay," she breathed. "Okay, so it's a real place. What about—?" Another few moments' searching, this time in Nebraska, and she found Hemingford Home.
"Mother Abagail," she said. "Hemingford Home, Nebraska." She sighed and sank down onto the mattress. She rested her face in her hands. Scraped tendrils of hair off her forehead and tugged on her braid before letting out a long breath.
Shoyo was maybe five or six hours' drive. She'd started this trip at the direction of a disembodied voice—Mother Abagail's, apparently—so she might as well follow her dreams halfway across Arkansas. She was pointed that direction anyway.
And she had to make sure Nick was okay. It was utter madness, but Mother Abagail had said he needed her to find him. And she knew, somehow, that the pain wracking her body was his pain, something he was experiencing. She hoped it wasn't the flu, but she didn't think it was. It had come too suddenly. Nick wasn't just hurting: someone had hurt him, and nothing pissed her off more than someone hurting people she cared about.
The fact that she cared about a disembodied voice from a handful of dreams maybe said more about her own nature than she cared to admit. She folded the map and tucked it back into her bag. It was only a little after midnight; she should try to get some more sleep. Four hours, at least.
She set the alarm on her phone and pulled the sheet up to her chin. Just a few days ago an extra thirty minutes of sleep would have seemed like a blessing: she got up at three-thirty every morning to be at the bakery by four. Start with that morning's muffins, cinnamon rolls, and Danish if she were so inclined. Next, bread, rolls, and whatever cakes she'd planned for the day. The restaurant served breakfast and lunch most days, except Friday and Saturday when they were open through dinner too. She worked two extra hours those days, making desserts for the dinner rush and pastries for Sunday brunch, and then as a reward got Sunday and Monday off.
Instead of counting sheep she went through the steps of some recipes she'd been working on recently, and as the familiar, repetitious work spun through her mind, she was finally able to drift off.
June 21 - Shoyo, AR
Nick's head and back were a storm of pain, but the pills helped a little. He needed to keep his head about him, so he just took one, rather than the allowed two, but it was better than nothing.
By noon they had three of the guys who'd jumped him in jail, but none of them would give up their ringleader, Ray Booth. The Sheriff, who was looking sicker by the hour, shrugged and sneezed into his handkerchief.
"He's a local boy; he'll turn up. In the meantime, you should stick around here. I'd hate for him to catch you out again. He'll know I'm lookin' for him, and he'll know why."
Nick frowned, but he saw sense in the advice—and, besides, the woman in the dream had told him to stay and heal. To wait for Kai. It was crazy to listen to old ladies in dreams, but he wasn't in any shape to move on just yet, so he might as well stick around.
None of it's real anyway, he thought with a grimace. It's just my brain playing tricks. Might as well stay here while I can, maybe figure out a way to make some money before I move on.
The Sheriff's wife brought them lunch, and Doc Soames stopped in for a chat. He gave Nick a quick exam, shone a light in his eyes and listened to his heart, before giving a satisfied nod.
"You're a very lucky young man, Mr. Andros," he said. "It'll take some time for all these bruises to heal up, but I don't think there's any permanent damage. No concussion. I think we got that nose set in time it won't show a break." He paused. "Though I doubt this is your first broken nose, is it?"
"I grew up in a group home," he wrote. "I'm also a deaf-mute. Take a guess." He drew a little smiley face to show he meant it in a more light-hearted way than it might sound.
The doctor read the note and gave Nick a long look over his glasses. "Like I said, a very lucky young man."
The Sheriff sneezed again and Soames scowled. "You sound like shit, John. You need to go home and get some rest."
"How'm I supposed to do that? Got them boys back in the can, and you know I ain't got a deputy. Can't leave the place unattended."
"It's not unattended. You've got Mr. Andros here. Deputize him and let him look after them."
Nick wasn't sure he'd understood correctly. Deputize him? He pointed at himself and lifted his brows in a question.
"That's what I said," Doc Soames said. "You got two legs and a good head on your shoulders. Those boys aren't going anywhere."
Before either Nick or Sheriff Baker could reply, the front door opened and a woman stepped inside. She tugged a pair of sunglasses off her nose and paused to absorb the sight of the three men gathered around the desk.
Nick felt something weird happen in his chest the moment he saw her, a click of recognition. She was tall and leggy, with dark hair a few shades lighter than his and warm golden skin. She wore faded cutoffs and an equally faded LSU T-shirt. Wide nose, full mouth, strong jaw, amazing eyes.
Her eyes, he saw with the sunglasses off, were the most extraordinary shade of blue. Or maybe gray. They were such a contrast to the rest of her coloring that he noticed them even from across the room, like the girl in that old National Geographic magazine cover.
She perched the sunglasses on top of her head and then didn't seem to know what to do with her hands. "Hi," she finally said to the room in general.
"Hi there, ma'am," the Sheriff said. "Somethin' I can do for you? I'm John Baker, Sheriff in these parts."
"Oh, good. I'm hoping you can help me." She paused. Her eyes darted to Nick and a tiny line formed between her brows. "I…" She trailed off like she wasn't sure where to begin and the line deepened to a crease.
Nick dashed off a note and passed it to the Sheriff. He lifted a brow and cast the girl a long look. "My friend Nick here wants to know if you're…Kay? By any chance."
She let out a little breath. "Kai," she said. "Like…eye, with a k in front. Yeah, that's me. I—" She broke off and shoved a hand through her long hair. Caught the sunglasses when they nearly tumbled to the floor. When she spoke again she addressed Nick. "I guess you were expecting me, huh?"
He gave a shrug and a sheepish smile.
"What happened to your face?" she said in a rush, then seemed to realize how that sounded and blushed and backtracked a bit. "I mean—that is—our friend Abagail?"
He nodded for her to go on.
"She told me you'd been hurt. That's why I came. But she didn't tell me what happened."
The Sheriff and Doctor were following this exchange with interest, but when the Sheriff coughed, her face went pale and her eyes zeroed in on him.
"Not feeling well?" she said.
"Just a—well, maybe a touch o' the flu. Listen, why don't you kids step in to my office to chat? Me 'n' the Doc got a few things to work out, then I might take him up on his idea. If that's okay with you, Nick. Might be you got plans now."
Nick shot a quick look at Kai, then scribbled a note for the Sheriff. "No, that's fine. I can stay. I want to stay until you get Ray anyway. I'll help you out any way I can."
Baker read it over and nodded. "That's fine, then. Ma'am, my office is just down that away."
"Thank you, Sheriff," she said. "Also, while I have you, I was wondering if you know of a place to stay in town? A hotel or a motel."
He chuckled. "Only motel's out on Route Five and it ain't no place for a lady." Once again he looked closely at Nick, then back at her. "I guess I ain't caught your name yet, though. Besides Kai."
"Oh, gosh, I'm sorry. Kai's actually my middle name. Most people call me Edie. Edie d'Arnaud."
"Well, Miss Edie, nice to meetcha. Like I said, I'm Sheriff Baker, and this here's Doc Soames. He's the one scraped your friend up off the asphalt and brought him in here. Patched him up, too. Apparently a group of local boys jumped him on the road outside town. Happened just last night." He paused, and despite his fever and the kind of swimmy feeling in his head, his eyes were sharp when they met hers. "He ain't made no phone calls—not that he could, I guess—but your friend Abagail sure got word to you fast."
Nick fished his phone out of his pocket and waved it at the Sheriff. "Texts," he wrote on his notepad. "Luckily phone was in pocket and not bag."
Baker grunted. "Yep, lucky."
"Thank you again, Sheriff," Edie said. "And you too, Doctor. I'm glad to know we still live in a world where strangers will help strangers."
"That's the kind of town this is, ma'am," Baker said. "Listen, I know my Janey would have my hide if I sent you out to that dump on Route Five. She's already mad enough at me since I'm huntin' her good-for-nothin' brother. Why don't you finish up here, and I'll take you to my house. We got a nice guest room you can crash in for a day or two, while Nick's helpin' me out around here."
She cast Nick a wide-eyed, startled glance. He tilted his head in a thoughtful gesture, then gave a little nod. He was telling her the Sheriff was someone she could trust, and that she should accept the offer. She knew that as though he'd spoken it aloud.
"I don't think I'll be getting a better offer than that. If it's really no imposition?"
"None at all." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, toward his office. "Y'all go on now. When you're ready we'll head out."
"Thank you," she said. "Truly." She glanced at Nick and lifted a brow. He tucked his hands in his pockets and led her down the hall, then closed the door behind them.
Notes:
So obvs I skipped some scenes that are in the book/94 miniseries because I didn't think I needed to just like...completely rewrite what had already been written. At least not where it fits into my own narrative.
Comments? Matches for comments?
Chapter 3: Blank Page
Summary:
Nick and Kai are each stunned to discover the other is, in fact, real. Bios are swapped.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
lead me to the truth and i will follow you with my whole life
Mumford and Sons, "White Blank Page"
She spun toward him, her eyes huge, and raised shaking hands to cup her face.
He was real. He was tall and lanky with curly black hair and skin a few shades darker than hers and a bruised and battered face. The thing last night with the pain—that had been because of him. That must've been when the guys jumped him. No wonder he'd needed her to come to him.
"Holy shit!" she breathed, for lack of anything better. She was so overwhelmed that coherent sentences seemed beyond her.
His mouth, full and wide and surrounded by a short, scruffy beard, quirked in agreement.
"So you're real," she said.
He lifted his hands to indicated that he was, indeed, real.
Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. She remembered how carefully he'd watched faces during the conversation outside. The notes he'd written the Sheriff. When she spoke next, she signed along with it. "Do you sign?" she said.
He blinked at her. A feeling of such profound surprise washed through him that he had to lean back against the Sheriff's desk. "How did you know?" he signed, shock written in every gesture.
"My parents were deaf." She hesitated. There was a whole lot more to that explanation, but sharing wasn't in her nature. Then, "It was you in the dreams, wasn't it?"
He ruffled his hair with a long-fingered hand, tugging it back off his forehead and tumbling the curls in wild directions. "Yes. If you're going to ask how I called out to you, I have no idea. Or how I heard you calling me. Mother Abagail said"—he gave a soundless sigh—"that it was God's way of making sure we could understand each other."
Her brows rose. "I see."
He made a face. "Didn't say I believe that! That's just what she told me when I asked."
She chewed her lower lip and paced away a moment. Turned back. "I met her in my dream last night. The first time you weren't there. She said you'd be here, in Shoyo, and that you needed me to find you. Also—later—I woke up…this sounds so crazy. I woke up in pain, major, serious pain, and somehow I knew it was you."
"I guess it would sound crazy if I hadn't dreamt of her too. She told me to wait for you." He indicated his battered face. "I guess it probably was me. You should see what I look like under my shirt."
She blushed and her eyes darted away. Was he—was he flirting with her? No. Of course not. He literally just meant he was covered in bruises everywhere. God she needed to calm the fuck down. Her brain felt like a scrambled egg.
Whoops. She thought he was flirting with her…which maybe he was a tiny bit, but not really on purpose. More like when she fixed him with those clear, startling eyes it caused a lag between his brain and his hands. A skip in the relay. "I didn't mean it like that," he said. "Sorry."
A quick laugh and a shake of her head. "No, I know you didn't. I'm sorry. I just—what is the proper etiquette in this situation? Hi, I'm—Kai, I guess you call me—and I dreamt about you. Nice to meet you!"
She spelled it out—K-A-I—and he replied in kind, but it felt strange. He preferred the water sign like he'd used in his dream. "Hi, Kai. I'm Nick. I dreamt about you too. Glad to finally—find you, I guess. Mother Abagail called you Eden."
"That's my first name. Like I told the Sheriff, Kai's my middle name, but—it's what my mother always called me. It's Hawaiian. So was she."
Was, he thought. So she'd lost her mother too. He got the sense she wasn't really the sharing type, but he wasn't either, so that seemed all right. He frowned and glanced over his shoulder, back toward the door. "The Sheriff's pretty sick. The Doc said he should go home, and since he doesn't have a deputy right now, I guess…I guess I'll be in charge for a little while. Which is weird. But he's in a bind, and I owe him."
She nodded thoughtfully. "Sick." She tugged at a loose string on her cutoffs. "Seems to be a lot of that lately."
He let out a long breath. "Have you seen the news? We were watching it earlier. There's some kind of flu, I guess. A lot of rumors, but…seems like nearly everyone's sneezing and sniffling these days."
"It's not a rumor." She stepped closer and stopped speaking aloud as she signed; she didn't want to risk being overheard. "My boyfriend came home from a road trip a few days ago sick as a dog. I've never seen anyone that sick in my life." She recounted the events of that morning as quickly as she could, and then told him about the man on the phone day before yesterday.
"Holy shit. Military?"
"I don't know. Someone official. Whatever's going on, it's bad. And clearly these dreams have something to do with it somehow."
He gave a slow nod. Her eyes jumped from him to the door behind him, and he turned to see Doc Soames poking his head in the room.
"Sorry to interrupt," he said, "but John needs to be getting home. If you aren't ready to go, ma'am, I can point you the right way once you are."
She cast Nick a look before she smiled at the doctor. "No, it's fine. I'll follow him home, and maybe come back after I get settled in." She brushed past Nick and squeezed his arm as she went. "I'll be back," she signed one-handed. Her gaze flicked down to her hand on his arm and when she looked up at him again her expression was…not troubled, exactly, but certainly confused.
He gave her as reassuring a smile as he could. "I'll be here," he said.
She left, shutting the door behind her, and he took a moment to rub the spot she'd touched. She'd felt it too, then. When her fingers brushed his bare forearm there had been something like a static shock, but…softer. Warmer. Not quite a tingle, but close.
He wondered if they touched in the dark, would it glow. He decided that line of thought wasn't productive and shut it off as soon as it emerged.
So she was real. A real person named Kai who'd dreamt of him, too, and also the old woman in Nebraska. She'd clearly been just as shocked to see him as he'd been to see her. He wondered if she'd felt that same…thing. Recognition, but like recognizing the source of a sweet, elusive scent that had been haunting you, or the taste of a food you'd been craving without even knowing it.
He was glad their first meeting had been so short, because he needed time. Time to think about the dreams and the old woman and Kai herself. What she'd told him would have made him worry for her sanity only a few days ago, but now he believed her without question. Though…maybe…he would've believed her anyway.
The office door opened and Sheriff Baker's bulk filled the doorway. He frowned at Nick. "You in here stewin'?"
Nick frowned back and scribbled out a note: "I thought you were going home. Dr's orders."
"I am, I am. I sent Am on his way and gave your girl directions to my place. Somethin' I needed to talk to you about."
"She's not my girl. Deputizing me?"
He read this and cocked a brow at Nick. "Whatever you say, babalugah. Yeah, that, and…her, while we're here." He lumbered past Nick and lowered himself into the chair behind his desk. Pulled the computer's keyboard closer and typed something. "While you two were in here catchin' up, I ran her name real quick."
Nick's heart sped up and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Whatever he'd found, it probably wasn't good. He started writing even as the Sheriff typed, and he finally glanced up from the paper to find stern dark eyes fixed on him. Baker pointed at the computer screen, and Nick read it, blinked, and read it again.
He ripped off the note he'd written, balled it up, and stuffed it in his pocket. In its place he wrote, "I don't think that's true, Sheriff. I know you don't have any reason to believe me, or her, but she said when she left her boyfriend was sick." He passed that one over and his mind raced to think of something else. "He was abusive. Hit her a lot. When he got sick she saw a chance to run and took it. But she didn't kill him. She wouldn't. And if she had, she would've told me."
Baker studied both these notes with all the care of a priest reading the gospel. He let out a long sigh and rubbed a big hand over his face. "You known her a long time?"
Nick hesitated. He didn't want to lie. Sheriff Baker was a good man who'd treated him, a random vagabond drifter, like he might an actual townie. He didn't have to go after his own brother-in-law like he had. He could've thrown Nick in jail and left him there to rot, but he hadn't. Nick owed him the truth, if nothing else.
"No," he wrote. "Not very. But I know her." He underlined know three times in bold, dark strokes. "She didn't kill her boyfriend. I'd bet my life on it."
Baker read this last note and folded it crisply in half. Tucked it into his shirt pocket. "If I thought she had I wouldn'ta sent her home to my Janey, you can bet your skinny ass on that. I wanted your take on the situation. I been a law man a long time, and I know murders, and I know people on the run—that girl looked a bit like the latter, but not at all like the former. And this number." He tapped the computer screen. "That ain't no phone number I recognize. Ain't for the state police, though I guess it wouldn't be since this happened in Louisiana. Ain't no FBI number I know either. This whole bulletin don't smell right. Girl's runnin' all right, but it ain't from no murder charge."
Nick's brow furrowed as he read the bulletin again. He didn't know enough about it to say either way, but he trusted the Sheriff's word. That number must be some military thing, the same people who'd answered Remy's phone when she'd called it yesterday.
"You say this boyfriend beat her?"
That…maybe wasn't a lie, but she hadn't given him any indication of abuse, and in fact had seemed upset at having abandoned him on his probable deathbed. But what other explanation could he give for her doing it? Well no not exactly you see the voice of a really old Black lady told her to go….
Obviously not an option.
Instead he gave a slow nod and kept his eyes steady on the Sheriff's. He mimed being punched, then tapped his broken nose and swollen eye. "He's probably looking for her," he wrote. "Maybe he has buddies somewhere in law enforcement. She didn't tell me much about him, so I don't know."
"That thin blue line bullshit," Baker said with a scowl. "A wife-beater's a wife-beater, don't care what he does for a livin'. I support other cops, sure, but not at the expense of innocent people. Fucker." He heaved a deep sigh that turned into a chest-rattling cough and waved off Nick's concern.
"It's fine, I'm fine. Let's get you deputized so I can head home 'fore Am Soames has my head." He hit a few buttons on the keyboard and the screen went black. "I'm gonna forget I ran her name, but if anything changes, you let me know. I'm trustin' her because I trust my gut, but also because I trust you. Don't let me down, Nick."
Nick felt a swell of pride in his chest, warm and bright and unfamiliar. He managed a smile and wrote, in his neatest handwriting, "I won't, Sheriff, and neither will she. You have my word."
He gave a satisfied nod and pocketed that note, too. "All right, then. That's good enough for me."
Jane, the Sheriff's wife, was all Midwest kindness and hospitality. She helped the doctor get her husband tucked into bed, then showed Edie her room and the bathroom, and put out some clean towels. She offered to make her a sandwich or some soup, then insisted when Edie's own Southern politeness made her decline.
"Doc Soames said John didn't eat a speck of the lunch I took down to the station. I've gotta get some food into that man come hell or high water, so I'm makin' it anyway. Might as well make enough for two."
"That's very kind, ma'am, thank you." She hesitated. "If you'd rather sit with him, you can show me what's what and I could do it. I really don't mind. I feed people for a living."
"Do you now?" She studied Edie with a shrewd, assessing eye. "Not often John brings home strays, but seems to be a theme of late." She sighed. "That poor boy. What my idiot brother and his idiot goons did to him—!" She broke off with a frustrated shake of her head.
"Family," Edie said. "What can you do?"
"Knock some sense into him is what I'd like to do, but that ship sailed a long time ago." She glanced back toward the bedroom with a frown. "I hate puttin' a guest to work, but I don't think I should leave John alone, and the Doc has other patients. All right, follow me. I imagine you know your way around a kitchen."
Jane showed her where to find everything, and she put together a couple bowls of tomato soup and a grilled cheese for herself. When Jane brought the bowl back to the kitchen later, it was nearly as full as when it had left. Her face was drawn and pale, and as she turned away she sneezed.
"Well don't that just beat all," she said.
"Go lie down," Edie told her. "You should rest before you get just as sick as your husband. Do you mind if I use your kitchen some more? I thought I might make some bread, or maybe muffins."
"Bless you, ma'am," Jane said. "My mama used to make fresh bread every Sunday and it was the best part of our week. Myself, I never caught the hang of it. If you need anything, just head on down to the market and tell 'em it's for me. They'll put it on the tab."
The tab? What was this, Mayberry? "Your cabinets are well-stocked, but I'll do that if I need to. Thank you. Go! Rest! I'll bring you both some tea with honey once you're settled."
Jane patted her arm, a maternal gesture that surprised and touched Edie almost to tears, and shuffled down the hall. Edie watched her go with her arms wrapped tight around her middle. Remy was dead, of that she had no doubt, and now Sheriff Baker and his wife were sick.
Maybe she'd been wrong earlier, with what she'd told Nick. Maybe it wasn't the same thing at all, or maybe it wasn't always fatal, and Remy had just gotten a really big dose of it. Tiny, kind Jane and her big, gruff husband would surely recover. None of this could be as bad as it seemed.
That evening Nick was sitting at the main desk flipping through a romance novel he'd found in one of the drawers when the door opened. He sat up fast, his feet hitting the floor with a thud he could feel even if he couldn't hear it. He stashed the book in the drawer and shoved it closed with his hip as he stood.
Kai watched him from the doorway, her mouth tilted in amusement. He wore a burgundy button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal leanly muscled forearms. Worn black trousers, rolled up a bit at the ankles, and black suspenders. Part hipster, part farm boy. Something about it worked. She wondered if his hair was as soft as it looked, then killed that thought dead only half-formed.
Oblivious to her study, caught up in his own distracting notice of her incongruous eyes and endless legs, he rushed forward to take the large box she carried and set it on the desk. Whatever was in there smelled amazing, and he took a moment to savor it, and pull himself together, before he smiled at her.
"Hi again," he signed. A scintillating conversationalist he was turning into. He scrubbed a hand through his hair in frustration.
She grinned. "Hey. Mrs. Baker is sick now, too, so she asked me to bring you and your buddies some supper. It's pot roast and mashed potatoes. She already had the roast going in the crockpot when I got there."
"How's Sheriff Baker?" he signed with one hand as he unloaded the box.
She sighed and shook her head. "Not great. His cough's worse, and he's running a fever." Her gaze drifted toward the hallway that led back to the cells. "Kinda like some of the boys you have here."
Nick shifted his weight and frowned down at the plates. "I checked on them earlier. Two of them are sneezing up a storm, but the other one seems fine. I don't know what to do. The doctor is busy, and these guys are my responsibility."
"Let's just get them fed for now. Come on, I'll help you."
They carried the plates back to the cells, and she paused at the sight of strawberry milkshake smeared all over the wall. Tilted her head toward it in a what happened here? gesture.
He slid one of the plates into the nearest cell and nodded at the guy sprawled out on the bunk. His breathing sounded almost as bad as Sheriff Baker's. "He wasn't happy with his lunch, or the establishment's service."
"Hmm," she said. "Some people just gotta act out."
"Thank you, ma'am," one of them said as he took his plate. "This looks real good." He sniffled. "Ma'am, I'm not feelin' so good. No good a'tall. Do you think I could maybe see the doc? Get somethin' for this headache?"
Nick had turned his back and missed what the guy said, but she didn't have to consult with him to know his answer. "That's up to Sheriff Baker, and he's indisposed at the moment." She turned to walk away, but his voice stopped her.
"We're real sorry 'bout what we did! It was all Ray's idea. We didn't know he was a dummy."
She spun on her heel and charged toward the cell. "What did you call him?"
The sudden movement caught Nick's attention, and he turned toward her in alarm. She stood gripping the bars with one hand and Vince Hogan's shirt with the other. She'd hauled him so close Nick couldn't see her lips, but whatever she was saying, the color drained from Hogan's face and he nodded like his head was on a spring.
"Yes, ma'am! Yes'm! I'm sorry!"
She shoved him away, not hard, but enough to make him stumble a little. "Apologize to him, not to me."
He glanced at Nick, face contrite. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean no insult. And I'm sorry I listened to Ray; we shouldn'ta done what we did to you. Weren't right."
Nick gave her an astounded look, but she just blinked at him. Finally, knowing she would translate, he signed, "I'll try to get the Doc in here to check you out. Eat your dinner."
"Yes, ma'am. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
All Midwestern-aw-shucks good ol' boy now. Edie rolled her eyes and stomped away, and after a moment Nick followed her.
"What did he say? Something about me, or something about you?" he said.
She dragged a chair from the other desk and sat down. Crossed one leg over the other and grabbed a fork and a plate. She stabbed at her pot roast so hard he winced, and for a long time she just sat, fuming and chewing.
He ate more slowly, waiting her out. The food was good, tender meat and gravy with carrots and those little pearl onions, all poured over real mashed potatoes, not that instant kind from the box. Jane Baker was a fantastic cook and a really nice lady, and he hated that she was sick too. Like everyone else, except himself and Kai.
He studied her between bites and decided no, whatever Hogan had said to set her off, it hadn't been about her. She looked like the type of woman who could handle a stupid catcall, and frankly Nick didn't think he'd have the courage to make one. The other guys, sure, but not weak little Vince Hogan.
Nick set down his fork and pushed back from the desk a little. "Called me a dummy, huh?"
She scowled down at her food.
"It's not like it's the first time someone's said it. Gets boring after a while."
Her fork hit the plate with a clatter and she glared at him. "That doesn't make it okay," she signed one-handed. Her fury was obvious in every vehement gesture. "You have to call people out on their bullshit or they never learn. Besides, I fucking hate bullies."
He shrugged and poured a cup of iced tea from the pitcher she'd brought. "He's not much of a bully, really. More the bullied. But it was pretty funny watching him almost piss himself when you got up in his face like that. What did you say to him?"
She put her plate on the desk and wiped her mouth with a napkin. He tilted the pitcher toward her and she nodded, so he filled a cup for her and set it near her elbow. "I told him if he couldn't act right I'd tell Mrs. Baker what he'd been up to and let her deal with him."
"Seriously?"
She shrugged. "Their ringleader is his sister, right? He might be able to knock her around, but I doubt anyone else is. If that kid's afraid of the one, I imagine he's afraid of the other. Seems like I was right."
He huffed out a silent chuckle. "Seems so."
They sat in silence for a time, watching each other with guarded, wary eyes. He'd decided that hers were the color of the bright blue Gulf of Mexico during a storm, darkened and tossed by wind and rain.
"You said your mom was Hawaiian?" he said, apropos of nothing but his own inner musings. He asked it tentatively, the signs a little unsure and his brows lifted not just in a question, but also as if seeking permission to even ask.
She nodded. Fiddled with her cup before setting it on the table. "Native," she signed. "We call ourselves kama'aina, people of the land." She spelled it out first, then used a sign he'd never seen, before explaining the meaning.
"My dad was part Creole, but only part, so I guess a light-eyed gene was in there somewhere. That's what everyone wants to know: how a light brown girl ended up with gray-blue eyes. What about you? What's your story, Nick Andros?"
He shrugged and signed it almost tiredly, like he didn't mind telling her, but he wasn't sure why she'd want to know. "My dad was Argentinian and my mom was Indian. India Indian, not Native American, but she was, you know. British. My parents came over from England when she was pregnant with me. They'd been here a month when they got into a car accident. My dad had a heart attack, died. I was born three months later. My mom never really said…" Another shrug. "I don't really know my family history."
She wasn't going to ask, because she didn't want him asking her, but her curiosity overcame her reluctance to share. "You talk about her in the past tense."
He smoothed his hands down his thighs before meeting her eyes again. "She died when I was eight. Hit by a motorcycle. His brakes failed. Stupid, freak accident." This last was jerky and heated.
She flinched in sympathy. "Jesus that's awful. Who took you in, after?"
"Group home. She was my only family in the US."
He signed it defiantly, chin raised and eyes hard. He was daring her to pity him.
She didn't accept. Sympathy, yes. Pity, no. There was a difference, and an important one.
He relaxed a little then, and his face softened. "I was a pissed off kid. My mom had taught me a little bit of sign and how to write my name, but that was it. I couldn't communicate with anyone there, so I acted like a little shit."
"You were a kid," she said.
"A little shit of a kid. Anyway, one of the counselors there was a deaf-mute too. He…got me straight. Taught me to sign, and how to read and write. Gave me my name sign. The minute I turned eighteen I got the hell out. Been wandering around ever since, picking up odd jobs all over. I like to keep moving."
She nodded. That was a sentiment she could understand. "How old are you?" she said.
"Twenty-six."
"Twenty-seven," she said, tapping her chest. She hesitated. "Not sure I should ask, but what's your name sign?"
He scowled a little. "It started out as Little Shit," he signed, sheepishly. "But when I was sixteen, before he left to go work for the Peace Corps, he changed it."
He paused. He'd never told anyone his name sign before, but that was at least partly because he'd kept himself removed from the Deaf community for most of his adult life. Rudy had gotten him into it, helped him become part of it, but he'd been so furious when Rudy left he'd turned his back on the entire culture. It wasn't that he resented being deaf or wished he were hearing; he just tended to run when he got pissed.
"Your parents were deaf," he finally signed, not a question.
"Yes. Mine is Water." She signed it just as he had in his dream, and his lips quirked in a sardonic smile.
"Yeah," he signed. "I knew that." He blew out a breath. Then, "Blank Page."
Her head tilted in a question, but he shook his head. "Long story. I'll…tell you sometime. If you're interested."
It was an unusual name sign, but obviously very personal to him. She decided to let it lie. It was her turn to spill some dirt. "My mom and dad met when she was young, like seventeen. He took off not long after she got pregnant, but honestly I think it was the best thing he could've done. She went back to school." She pointed at her shirt. "LSU. She met my stepdad there and they got married when I was two."
"So which parents…?"
"My mom and my stepdad. I kind of got the idea my biological dad…I don't know. That part of the reason he took off was because he didn't want to be stuck with a deaf kid. He was attracted to my mom because he saw her as vulnerable, and I guess she kinda was, all alone so far from home. Louisiana, from Hawai'i. But she was a lot tougher than he ever gave her credit for."
He gave a slow nod and ate a few more bites of pot roast. She referred to her parents in the past tense, too, like he'd noticed earlier. He felt like she wanted to tell him without him asking her, so he listened and waited.
"Anyway, I was fourteen when they died. Katrina. I was sent to live with my father, who was an abusive alcoholic asshole. He died two weeks before my eighteenth birthday, and like you, when that day dawned I got the fuck out."
"Wow, three parents dead. Guess you beat me by one." He grinned to soften it, and she couldn't help but smile back. He had crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled like that, even through the bruises and the swelling, and dimples on one side. She liked the slow laziness of that smile, like warm molasses poured onto hot johnnycake.
"Guess so," she said, once her brain kicked back into gear. "I wandered for a while, like you. Finally ended up in New York. Culinary school." She gave a little laugh. "But I hated the structure of it, all the goddamn rules about cooking. It was stupid. So I dropped out. Got married. Moved back to Louisiana and we opened a restaurant."
He blinked. Married? What about her boyfriend? Did she have both? Why wasn't she worried about running out on her husband, then?
"We've been separated about six months," she said in answer to his silent question. "The last time we talked we fought about signing the goddamn divorce papers." She paused. Chewed her lower lip as she remembered that last, stupid fight with Sarah, the night before everything in her life changed.
He watched her expression change, the darkening of her eyes and slight slump of her shoulders. She played with her hair when she felt unsure of herself, and the light picked out shades of red and gold among the dark brown. What did it look like in the sun, he wondered.
He shifted in his chair and focused on the conversation. "What happened?" he said. "Did he cheat?"
Her full mouth quirked. "I cheated on her, actually. But not until…not until things were basically over anyway. She…" She trailed off with a sigh and looked away. This was getting much deeper than she wanted to go, but what the hell.
"We'd been married five years or so, talking about kids for a while. We both wanted them, so that wasn't the problem. It had come down to how. Adoption, in vitro, surrogate. And if we went with either of the latter two, whose egg would we use?"
He sat back a little. He had a feeling he knew where this was going.
"Yeah," she said at his expression. "I don't think she meant…honestly, I don't think she meant it as bad as it sounded. But she said—" She broke off with a rough laugh. "If she'd stopped at your dad was an alcoholic I would've been fine, and agreed with her, but then she said, and your mom was deaf, and that was…"
He gave a slow nod. She didn't have to explain, not really. "She didn't want to be stuck with a deaf kid," he said.
"More or less." She threw her hair behind her shoulder and lifted her hands in a brief, rueful shrug. "I slept with Remy—our chef—for the first time a few months later. She and I had been fighting almost nonstop since that conversation, but she kept trying to…talk me back. Apologize and say she didn't mean it and all of that. But it was one of those things you say, you know? Like, she's not a bigoted person, and if we'd had a deaf kid I know she would've loved them just as much as a hearing one, but…I couldn't forget it. Apparently couldn't forgive, either. So I slept with Remy because I knew it would piss her off enough to finally give up and just let me go."
She waved a hand. "Remy isn't exactly my boyfriend. We weren't that formal or anything. But he crashed at my place sometimes and we were fucking, so…whatever. It's shorthand, I guess."
"Must've been awkward," he said after a moment, "owning a business with your ex."
Their eyes met, and her mouth moved in a small, grateful smile. Just as she hadn't offered him pity, he didn't offer judgment. It seemed they understood each other well.
"Yeah, sort of," she said. "But Sarah ran the business side of things and I mostly hid out in the bakery, so it was easy to avoid each other. The awkward part was when I started banging the cook."
He snorted a laugh. "Oops."
Her brow quirked at the wry glint in his dark eyes. "I didn't know that many eligible people. It's a small town, and like I said—I hide out in the bakery. Up at three AM, work till one or three, then in bed by seven or eight. It doesn't exactly lend itself to a thriving social life."
"Shit. I worked as a line cook at a diner one time. Some of the hardest work I've ever done in my life, and I've spent a lot of time on farms. You mean you baked for ten or twelve hours a day?"
"Five days a week," she said. She flexed her arms to show off the muscles there. "Look at that! Kneading bread and lifting heavy trays. Got some abs, too, but they don't really show."
He ignored the direction his brain wanted to go and instead offered a grin that she returned, though hers faded as she glanced toward the cells and back at him. "And now I'm here, after running out on Remy probably on his deathbed thanks to a disembodied voice telling me to. I came here because a woman in a dream told me you're here, and I've been dreaming about you for days. And you've been dreaming about me. And you dreamed about Mother Abagail. So, basically—what the fuck is going on?!"
He picked up his fork. Set it down again. Scrubbed a hand through his dark curls and slumped back in the chair. "I don't believe in any of this. Precognitive dreams and—disembodied voices and whatever that old woman is supposed to be."
"You think I do?" She frowned. "I mean, okay, I'm from New Orleans, so I believe in some things. My Grandmère taught me the basics. Brick dust across your door and salt over your shoulder. Ghosts, of course. But this?! I heard her, Nick! The same voice. It was her voice that morning, and she was right, because if I'd stayed…"
She trailed off with a shudder.
"I know," he said. "I believe you. I stood in a cornfield and called your name and heard you call mine, and I never saw your face, but how many women with the same dream as me named Eden Kai could there be in the world?"
Her mouth quirked. "Hopefully just me."
"Hopefully."
"D'Arnaud," she signed, spelling it out.
He blinked. "What?"
"That's my last name. In case you were wondering."
"Good to know," he said.
She stifled a yawn and rubbed a hand across her eyes. "Ugh. Not to be a cheap date, but I've been up since four and on the road for, like, four days. I'm beat, and sleeping somewhere without worrying about cockroaches sounds amazing."
He grimaced. Bakers kept even worse hours than farmers, and hay lofts rarely had roaches. "You should go. Check on the Sheriff and Mrs. Baker. Hang on, let me get you my number so you can text if you need to." He grabbed his notepad off the table and scribbled it for her. "You can call if you want," he said. "But I don't usually answer."
She cut him a look. "You know that phone has RTT software built in, right? Plus closed captioning and sound recognition. Like sirens or a doorbell."
He frowned down at it. "Seriously?"
"It's all in the accessibility features. You never used them?"
He shrugged. "I don't have anyone to call. I just use it for GPS and Google."
"What, no porn?"
"Only on Sundays. I like to blaspheme."
It surprised a laugh from her. "I'll make sure to give you some private time on Sunday."
"Thanks," he said. "I'll need it, after the week I'm having." He paused. "I should—let me walk you out. I can lock up behind you."
She nodded and he followed her to the door. "I'll text you with an update."
"Tell the Sheriff I've got this. He just needs to worry about feeling better."
"I'll tell him," she said with a brief, warm smile. "Be careful, and I'll see you tomorrow."
He stood in the doorway and watched until she backed out of the parking place and drove away, then he stepped back inside and locked the door behind him. A check on his prisoners and he resumed his position back at the desk. He made sure his phone was on vibrate (it was always on vibrate) before he fished the romance novel out of the drawer and leaned back in the chair to read.
Notes:
Com...ints??
I'm seriously WAY too invested in this fic, y'all, and I need feedback. Thank you so much for the kudos!!
Chapter 4: What You Lose
Summary:
Nick and Kai reflect on the flu, the things they've lost and stand to lose, and make plans for a trip to Nebraska.
Notes:
Just an informal poll: do you guys prefer shorter chapters, like 2-3k, or longer ones, like 4-6k? I ask because I'm struggling a little with where to divide the chapters, and I'm just curious.
ATTN: Obviously this fic deals with a humanity-destroying flu, so I hope all of you are proceeding with caution. THIS CHAPTER in particular features descriptions of news coverage that might be triggering or upsetting. Once Nick turns on the TV, please go carefully. If you need to skip that lil section altogether you won't miss anything plot relevant. Please take care of yourselves!
I love comments, and I love my readers. Have fun!
Chapter Text
some tragedies you know they have no explanation
and the word "everything" don't cover what you lose
The Avett Brothers, "I Should've Spent the Day With my Family"
June 22 - Shoyo, AR
It was hard to believe that just twelve hours ago they'd thought Sheriff Baker might be on the mend. Edie had been up at four AM to bake muffins (mixed berry, banana oat, and zucchini walnut) and a couple loaves of bread. She could hear him coughing, but at six he shuffled down the hall and into the kitchen, and he looked decidedly better than he had yesterday afternoon. Jane got up a few minutes later and they all sat down to a breakfast of eggs, bacon, and muffins warm from the oven.
He took a bunch of them down to the station, Jane directed Edie to the nearest library (county seat, next town over), and she spent the day researching random topics that she'd never thought she might need to know, but for some reason seemed important now. How to lay a fire. How to splint a broken bone. How to purify water to make it safe to drink.
By five her eyes were crossing and her head swimming, so she checked out a few books about identifying edible plants and fungi and headed back to Shoyo. Jane called and asked if she could pick some supper up for the boys at Ma's Truck Stop out on the highway. She was too sick to cook anything, and Nick and "those good-for-nothin's" needed to eat.
She heard coughing in the background, and Jane told her the Sheriff had once again come home early, and he seemed worse off than he'd been the night before. "How was the library?" she said.
"Quiet. But it's a weekday, so I guess that's normal."
What hadn't (and still didn't) seemed normal was how quiet everything else was. There was hardly any traffic. She saw maybe two people in the entire downtown area. Ma's Truck Stop, she found when she got there, had a parking lot full but a nearly empty dining room. There was one waitress on duty, and she spoke in a foghorn honk through her congestion.
"Gonna take a while. Jus' me 'n' Bobby here, and we got about a million to go orders. You takin' it down to the Sheriff station?"
"That's right. For the new deputy and the prisoners there."
She gave a brief nod. "You go on, then. I'll have m'boy bring it down when it's ready. Might be an hour or more, but it's comin'. I promise."
"Sure, that sounds great. Thanks."
On her way out she passed a burly man bent nearly double with the force of his cough. A woman stood filling her car at the gas pump and sneezed hard enough to nearly topple her.
Edie shivered and started her car. She got the AC going and opened a text to Nick.
- On my way to you now. Heard sjb had to leave early? Sick again?
The typing dots appeared. Then, - Doc sent him home. Said he had a nasty respiratory infection. Hoping Doc'll come back bc these boys are sick, esp Childress
- How're you?
- Fine. Worried. Stop typing and drive. Could use the company.
She lifted a brow at her phone. - Aye aye, bossy. omw now
"Fucker," she said, but she was half grinning as she said it, and it was almost a term of endearment.
The boy who brought the food from Ma's Truck Stop stared wide-eyed at Nick, and then even wider-eyed at Edie when she signed something to him.
"Thank you," Nick signed as he took the box.
"That means thank you," Edie said.
"Oh. Yeah, I know. My girlfriend read in some book that you should teach babies sign language before they can talk, so we've been learnin' it. I just never seen anybody talk like that in real life."
She signed what he said to Nick and he gave her a questioning look.
"I've read that too," she said. "About babies and ASL."
"Neat," he signed, and it was all she could do not to snort at the heavy irony on his face and in the gesture.
"Thanks for bringing this stuff," she told the delivery guy. "I know it's slammed up there, so you better get back." She handed him a twenty from her purse, and she thought he might have a stroke.
"Thank you, ma'am! Y'all need anything else, just give us a holler. Ask for Danny."
"We will, Danny. You have a good night." She waited until the door shut behind him before she burst out laughing. "God that kid almost shit his pants. And you! Neat." She rolled her eyes. "You're such an asshole."
He lifted his hands in a shrug. "It is kinda neat, I guess. But also it must be nice to teach your kid a little bit of sign as some sorta lark, and not because without it he's completely incommunicado."
"Hearing privilege," she said with a wry tilt to her head.
"Exactly." He set each takeout container on the desk before unpacking the plasticware and cans of Coke. "I guess it's not a bad thing if it means more people learn to sign," he said, grudgingly.
"I was taught to sign before I could speak orally," she said.
"Your mom was deaf. ASL was your first language. That's different. You know that's completely different."
He turned away before she could reply, off to deliver food to his noisy prisoners. When he got back his expression was thoughtful, and he sat down across from her and watched her with penetrating dark eyes. She watched him back, unflinching, and part of him admired her steady frankness.
"I envy you in a lot of ways," he finally said. "I was five before I understood that a tree was called a tree. I didn't start learning to speak fluently until I was eight, after my mom died." He pulled one of the styrofoam boxes closer but didn't open it. "She did the best she could, but she had to work constantly just to keep a roof over our head and food on the table."
"Didn't you go to school?" she said.
"We moved around a lot. She always…seemed to forget. About school. Then before she could get things straightened out we'd take off again."
His expression turned inward, and now he seemed almost to talk to himself. His gestures became slower, more distracted. "I used to wonder what she was running from. Not back then of course; I was just a kid. But as I got older, looking back. But now…" He trailed off with a frown.
"Now?" she prompted, gently, when he didn't go on.
He blew out a breath. "Now I think about him. You've seen him, right? In the corn?"
She shivered as though from a sudden draft. "I—no. I haven't seen him. Sensed him, though. I…know who you mean."
A grim nod. "Him. I think about him, and I think…that's it. She was running from him."
"Nick, that's—come on. That's impossible!"
He looked up to meet her eyes, and her mouth fell open. She could read his thoughts plainly on his face, and part of her couldn't believe what she was seeing—even as another part of her thought it all made perfect sense. "You think—it's been him. All along. My parents and your dad and later your mom."
He ran a hand back through his hair in a rough, thoughtless motion. "You said your parents died in Katrina. How?"
She gave a quick, jerky shake of her head. "It was—just—the water. They drowned. They didn't evacuate because everyone said the storm would turn, and then it didn't. We were in the car and there was too much water. We were stuck, trapped. A man came and got me out, and he was going to go back for them, but it was too late."
"A man."
"Not him! Jesus, Nick, not—that guy! Just a random good Samaritan."
He seemed to deflate a little, some of the furious determination leaving him as his chin dipped toward his chest and his shoulders sagged. "Yeah. I know. I know you're right, I just…want to make sense of it. Somehow."
She sighed and tugged at the end of her braid. "Maybe I'm not right," she said. "Mother Abagail seems to think we were chosen for something." She hitched a shoulder. "Maybe her God isn't the only one doing the choosing."
He frowned. "I'd rather be chosen by an invisible old man in the sky than…that guy."
"Me too." She paused to study him a moment. He looked exhausted. Bruised and battered and much too thin for his tall frame. "These are deep philosophical questions to be wrestling with on an empty stomach."
He gave a sardonic snort. "Is that your way of telling me to shut up and eat?"
"It's my way of telling you that there's very little in the world that can't be made better by country fried steak, mashed potatoes, and collards. Eat, and after, if you still have questions about your place in the great cosmic chess match, we'll figure it out."
He answered that with a brief half-smile and opened his box of food. "Is this the sort of thing you served at your restaurant?" he said with one hand as he ate. "Southern food?"
She shook her head. "Sometimes, as a special, but not really. We did breakfast and lunch every day but Monday, when we were closed, then we expanded to supper hours on Friday and Saturday. Breakfast all day was our biggest thing. Remy made the best goddamn pancakes you've ever had in your life. Then we had homemade soups, sandwiches, quiche. Dinner was exclusively French."
He paused with a bite halfway to his mouth and fixed her with a questioning look.
"Remy trained in Paris. He liked to show it off."
"Like the rat from that movie."
"Ha. Yeah, you can believe we teased him about that." She went quiet as the humor left her eyes. Picked at her food and took a restless sip of her drink.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"No, you didn't. It's fine. I just—wonder how things are back there. I just took off. Didn't leave a note. That's not like me." She set her can down and flicked the pull tab. "Not anymore."
He let that lie, because he knew what she meant. She'd been a runner, like him, but unlike him she'd found a place for herself and settled down. Now an old woman from Nebraska, prophetic dreams, and a killer flu virus had sent her running again, and she'd lost the feel for it.
It was another thing he envied about her.
The ate in silence for a while, each wrapped in their own thoughts, until finally she dropped her fork, shut the box, and pushed it away. "Not as good as Mrs. Baker's pot roast, but I wouldn't kick it outta bed for eating crackers."
He grinned. "One of the counselors at the group home where I grew up used to say that."
"My Grandmère. My father's mom. I spent a lot of time with her after I went to live with him."
He didn't recognize the sign, but she'd used it yesterday too. "Who?"
"Sorry. Grandmother. She spoke a lot of Cajun French, and more out of curiosity I taught myself a little LSF, French Sign Language."
"Curiosity?" he said, brow furrowed.
"Well, yeah. My mom and stepfather were—gone, and my father was hearing. So was my grandmother. But ASL was my first language along with HSL—Hawai'i Sign Language—then spoken English and spoken Hawaiian. So learning some LSF seemed sort of…natural."
He leaned closer, eyes wide. "Hawai'i Sign Language? I didn't know that was a thing."
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, neither did white people until 2013. It's dying, now. ASL is taking over and fewer people are learning it. That's why my mom taught me. I planned to teach my kids, but…" She trailed off with a shrug.
He tugged at his dark curls a moment. "You could teach me. If you wanted."
"Really?" she said, expression brightening. "You'd want to learn?"
"Yeah," he said. "I couldn't really communicate until I was eight; I figure I should make up for lost time by learning as many languages as I can."
Her mouth curved. "That's a fantastic goal. Sure, I'll teach you. It'll be fun."
He grinned. Fun maybe wasn't the word, but interesting for sure. "Is she who taught you to bake? Your…Grandmère?" he said, struggling to recreate the sign she used.
She showed him again, then said, "My mom first taught me, but Grandmère kept encouraging me. She taught me lots of other things: teas, simples, little remedies. She was a midwife and a kind of…witch woman, I guess, to the locals. That's how they thought of her anyway."
His brows rose, only half-mockingly. "Your grandmother was a witch? Does that make you a witch too?"
She threw a balled-up straw paper at him. "No! It goes through the mother's line, everyone knows that." She leaned forward. "She used to say the Lord burdened her with a good-for-nothing son because any daughter of hers would be too powerful and He was jealous."
"You know, that would've been funny before all this started. Now? Not quite as much."
Her mouth quirked in commiseration. "A little too much weird shit lately. Like today." She told him about how deserted everything was, and how it seemed like every single person she saw had some sort of cold. She tilted her head toward the cells. "Like those boys back there. Coughing," she said at his questioning look. "Sounds bad. Nick, what the fuck is going on?"
He blew out a long breath. "Have you watched the news at all the past few days?"
She shook her head. He frowned and motioned for her to join him in the Sheriff's office. "I was watching some earlier, but I had to turn it off because I got freaked out. It's…weird. I get the feeling they're not saying everything, either, and that just makes it worse."
He grabbed the remote off the Sheriff's desk and hit the power button. They stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the TV, and he felt her tense as images started to fill the screen.
Hospitals in major cities overflowing. Body bags starting to stack up outside morgues. A harried and exhausted-looking doctor who said the infection rate was something like 99%, and so far he hadn't seen anyone recover from it. His mic was cut as soon as he said that, and the screen went black for a few seconds before commercials started to play.
"Nick…"
He flipped the channel and a list of CDC guidelines was displayed on the screen: wash your hands, cover your cough, stay at home, wear a mask, stay six feet apart.
Nick felt her knuckles brush the back of his hand, and he flipped it over so that their palms met and fingers tangled.
On CNN they watched a reporter doing a standup outside a hospital get physically removed by men in uniforms carrying very large guns. Her cameraman was knocked to the ground and the camera fritzed out. The feed went back to Wolf Blitzer in the studio. He smothered a cough and called the reporter's name over and over, but she didn't answer. He stood, silent and clearly frightened, until they switched to commercial, too.
Kai squeezed Nick's hand, and he stroked his thumb across her knuckles.
MSNBC flashed between scenes from London, Tokyo, Paris, and Cairo. Russia and China had closed their borders and weren't saying much, but that was telling in and of itself. Australia and New Zealand were closed too, but they already had cases, which meant it was largely too late.
It seemed like it was too late pretty much everywhere.
"Holy shit," she breathed.
He turned the TV off and she tugged her hand free. Paced away, one arm wrapped around her middle and the fingers of her other hand tapping against her lips.
"It's a lot worse than it was yesterday," he said. "Even worse than this morning. Whatever the fuck this is, it moves fast, and it's pretty clear no one has any clue what's going on."
"Someone does," she said. "Someone absolutely does."
"What do you mean?"
She gestured toward the silent television. "That one guy said it has a ninety-nine percent infection rate and a one-hundred percent death rate. That means nearly everyone gets it, and everyone who gets it dies. So we're talking a ninety-nine percent overall death rate. Of the population. The Spanish Flu in 1918 only had a two percent death rate, and it decimated a generation. The Black Plague killed one-third of Europe's population and remade the Western world! Viruses that are this virulent and kill this thoroughly don't just happen, Nick. I mean, I'm just a baker, but I know enough about it to know that a virus's number one goal is to reproduce itself. How can it do that if it kills everyone it touches within forty-eight hours or so?!"
He absorbed that for a moment. "You're saying someone made this."
"That's what I'm saying, yeah. Because only human intervention creates a virus that does nothing but kill. Ebola has a ninety-nine percent death rate, but it spreads much more slowly and nowhere near as easily. This thing…it's pure scorched earth."
He gave her a long look, an ironic light in his dark eyes. "How does a baker know so much about viruses?" he said with a twist to his mouth.
She shot him a brief, toothless glare. "I watch a lot of documentaries, then I read a lot to fill in the blanks. No social life, remember? Also I spent the entire day at the library." She bit her lip, her eyes far away. "Remy went to Dallas to his food conference thing. He liked to fly out and then rent a car to drive back so he could stop along the way and eat. His own personal Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives, he called it."
He blinked, his expression blank.
"Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives? Guy Fieri? Rollin' out to Flavortown?"
"Where the hell's Flavortown?" he said.
She grinned, a real one that lit up her eyes and showed a dimple in her chin. "It's a show on Food Network where this guy goes around the country eating at little local places. He calls a place like the crown jewel of Flavortown, or, I don't know, the number one sandwich in Flavortown. It's one of his catchphrases, I guess."
His mouth fell open in a silent ah. "I don't watch a lot of TV, but I do like food."
"Yeah, well, so did Remy. Obviously. Pretty sure he wanted us on the show, but Sarah was dead set against it. Apparently places he visits become hugely popular immediately after, and she didn't want to deal with all the extra traffic. We were already a bit of a tourist destination as it was."
She waved it away. "Whatever. My point is he could've picked it up anywhere between Dallas and Abilene. That's a long ass stretch of road."
"If it was in bumfuck East Texas earlier this week…"
"Then who knows where the hell it started, or by whom."
He raked a hand through his hair. "So…what do we do with this information?"
"Nothing," she said. She gave a distracted shake of her head and tore her gaze from the blank TV screen to finally look at him. She hadn't missed the irony in his tone. "I just like to know how rigged the game is before I sit down at the table."
"That's fair," he said. "I just figure it's the only game in town and do the best I can with the hand I'm dealt."
Her mouth curved. "Or move on to the next one."
"Or that," he agreed. "Doesn't seem to be an option this time."
They stood facing each other, much less than six feet apart, and they'd both turned wary after the intimacy of the last hour.
"I guess—we're sort of meant to be in this together," she said. "If you believe in that sort of thing."
"I don't," he signed, emphatically. His face scrunched. "But we both had the dreams, and here we are."
"For now," she said.
He acknowledged that with a tilt of his head. "Hemingford Home, Nebraska. Mother Abagail." He signed it as Mom A, and her lips quirked in the flash of a smile. He frowned; glanced away. "I can't leave yet, though."
"No," she said, quickly. "No. I walked out on Remy when he was dying. I can't do the same to the Sheriff and Mrs. Baker."
"It sounds like you didn't have much choice," he said. "If you'd stayed you'd probably be in some lab right now being poked and prodded while they tried to figure out why you're immune."
She chewed her lower lip. "I wasn't going to say the I-word."
He shrugged. "That's what we are, aren't we? The guy said ninety-nine percent infection rate. That still leaves one percent, right?"
"God!" She scraped both hands back through her hair and spun a slow circle. "What's one percent of seven billion?!"
"Well…one percent of seven hundred is seven, so…extrapolate."
That earned him another sour look. He just shrugged again, unfazed.
"Are you always this much of a smart ass?"
"Yeah, pretty much. There's a lot more to me than just puppy dog eyes, you know."
It surprised her into a laugh. "Yeah," she said, "that's kind of the impression that I'm getting."
Their eyes met, and for a moment the brief space between them was charged. He watched her, his expression mild, and she watched him back. She seemed to be searching for something in his face, but whether she found it or not he couldn't have said. All he knew was that she looked away first, and he missed the warmth of her regard.
"Choice or not, I'm not doing the same thing with the Bakers. They've been too kind to both of us."
He tapped the badge on his chest and she nodded.
"And you've got your prison boys to look after."
"What do we do? Just wait for everyone to die?"
She flinched and crossed her arms again. "That sounds so cold."
"But?"
"But…" She lifted her chin and her jaw hardened. "But that's exactly what we're doing. We stay here so they don't have to die alone, and once they're gone, so are we."
"To Nebraska."
"Right." She hesitated. "Right?"
"Right," he said. He tugged at his hair. "You're right, Kai. It's pretty clear that's what we have to do."
Something soft and bright flared in her eyes. "How did you know my name sign? When I told you, you knew. My mother gave it to me. She used to call me Little Water."
"That's how I was signing it in the dream. When I called you." His brow creased. "I don't have to use it if you don't want me to."
She considered a moment. Like Kai, no one had used that name sign for her in years. After her father died her parents' old friends in the Deaf community took her in, first in New Orleans and then in New York. They'd given her a new name sign, but for some reason she'd told him the old one—and that was the one he'd used in his dream. "No," she said at last, "it's okay. I like it."
"Good," he said. "I do too." When his hands moved again the signs were hesitant. "You can use mine. If you'd like."
"Thank you," she signed. "As long as it wasn't meant as an insult."
"It wasn't. I really will tell you sometime."
"Okay," she said. "No rush."
She fidgeted a moment, then turned away to head back to the other room. He frowned after her in surprise before he followed. She stood staring out the windows into the street, and something about the set of her shoulders made him hesitate to interrupt her. After several long moments she faced him again, and he felt awkward for staring.
"I guess…come find me. After. I'll be here," he said.
She let out a jagged sort of laugh, and her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "This really sucks ass, huh?"
His mouth quirked and he did that cute nervous-hand-through-his-hair thing again. "Not as much fun being a one percenter as I would've thought, that's for damn sure."
"No shit." She moved to the table to start packing their trash away. She left his box there, but stowed hers back in the delivery box. "You should finish your dinner," she said with a little frown. "It's too good to waste."
"I will," he said. He watched her as she worked: her movements were quick and tense. Jerky. He'd only known her a few hours, all told, but in that time he'd noticed the free and elegant way she moved. It was hard not to, the way they communicated.
He tapped a fingertip against the table to get her attention. When she didn't look his way he reached out to touch her forearm, gently, and she froze. Closed her eyes a moment before her gaze dropped to his hand, then back up to his face.
He let go and took a deliberate step back. "I'm sorry. I didn't meant to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted to tell you…I know this is all weird and crazy and scary as hell, but whatever happens, you're safe with me."
Her head tilted. "Safe with you, or safe from you?"
He frowned. "I meant the second one, I guess, but…both, I hope."
"I know that. If I thought any different I wouldn't be here right now."
"Okay, so…I know you're scared. I'm scared, too. But as your designated apocalypse buddy, it's my job to look after you, just like it's your job to look after me. And, look, together we've got two working ears, four working eyes, and at least one recipe for blueberry muffins."
"More like forty," she said.
"I said at least."
"So you did," she said with a little smile. "What's your point? Teamwork makes the dream work?"
"Something like that," he said, his mouth moving in that lazy grin.
She shook her head, but he could tell she was struggling not to laugh. "It's the end of the world, Nick. I can't handle that and corporate retreat clichés."
"There's no I in team, Kai!"
"Oh my god. How can I switch apocalypse buddies?"
"Too late. Pretty sure you're stuck with me."
An amused huff that feigned frustration even as her brilliant eyes sparkled. But, slowly and as he watched, the brightness drained away and the shadows returned.
"I am scared," she said.
"I know. I am too."
She swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay. Okay, somehow that makes me feel a little better."
"That was my goal." He ducked his head and flicked a wayward curl off his forehead. She watched, momentarily fascinated, and he looked up just in time to catch her at it.
"Um," she said. "I should get back."
"Yeah, of course. It's late for you." He took the box of trash from her and set it back on the table. "Sheriff's paying me to keep the place clean. Least I can do is earn my keep."
She gave a distracted nod and he walked with her to the door.
"I'll see you for breakfast if the Sheriff can't make it in," she said.
He nodded. "Bring more muffins. It's no wonder your restaurant was a tourist destination."
"Sarah and I used to joke that she knew she was going to marry me the first time she tasted my pumpkin chocolate chip muffins."
"I believe it," he said.
She didn't want to leave, walk out onto that empty, eerie street and drive to the Bakers' to sit a death watch. She wanted to stay here, with him, and learn more about his life at the group home or as a nomad wandering small town America. She wanted to know how he took his coffee and how he felt about cilantro and if he had any weird ideas about chem trails.
Instead she said goodnight and crossed quickly to her car. Gave him a wave as she started it and imagined she felt his steady, assessing eyes on her until the end of the block, where she turned and was out of his sight.
Chapter 5: Today
Summary:
Sheriff Baker's death begins to bring the true reality of Captain Trips home. It's becoming more apparent that Nick and Kai are truly immune, and they need to plan accordingly.
Notes:
Like the summary says, here there be death. Proceed with all appropriate caution.
Love your comments and kudos, faithful readers. Don't be shy. :)
Chapter Text
what has happened will never be undone
but tomorrow i think i'll just try to keep the day wide open
and as much as they will have me be with people that i love
The Avett Brothers, "I Should've Spent the Day With my Family"
June 23 - Shoyo, AR
Nick wasn't asleep when he felt the vibration from his phone. It was nearly nine AM, and he hadn't heard from Sheriff Baker, Doc Soames, or anyone with any breakfast for his prisoners. Kai had texted a few hours ago to say Jane Baker seemed to have had a rally, but the Sheriff was going downhill fast.
He didn't want to check his phone. He knew what it would say, and if he just left it in his pocket, pretended he hadn't felt it, then he could go on living in a world where Sheriff Baker was still alive. A man who had been kind to him in ways he'd assumed human beings just didn't do. A man who'd treated him with respect and dignity and trust, given him a job and, more, a purpose.
He maybe could've found his place here in Shoyo, with these people. A place like Kai had in Abilene, but with less relationship drama.
He wandered back to the cells. Mike Childress was sprawled across the bunk, and he didn't look good. Vince Hogan was wide-eyed and pale, and Nick could see the telltale swelling under his jaw. Only his third guest, Billy Warner, seemed more or less okay, but he'd gone from defiant and furious to scared and begging.
Nick couldn't let them out. He'd made a promise to Sheriff Baker, and he wasn't going to let him down. He wondered if Kai could drive them all up to Camden, the Calhoun County Seat. He could ask her to call on his behalf to figure out the details, and then…
Except apparently she was wanted by the cops (or someone) for her boyfriend's "murder," and for all Nick knew there might be posters or something with her picture. Or one of the cops would recognize her from the bulletin. No, getting Kai any nearer to law enforcement than she currently was didn't seem like a good idea.
His phone vibrated again.
With a silent sigh he fished it out and checked the messages.
- Dr Soames just left. I'm sorry, Nick, he's gone. About 30 minutes ago.
- Hey, are you there? Pls let me know you got my message. Mrs Baker v upset, obvs. Gonna stay w her a little longer, wait for funeral home, then head your way. K?
He rubbed furiously at his eyes and dropped down into the desk chair. Gone. Almost an hour ago now. Nick didn't believe in God, and he wasn't the praying type, but he sent a thought out to the ether for someone to look out for John Baker, a good man who defied stereotypes and who hadn't deserved to die like that. He should have gone peacefully, as an old, old man, surrounded by all the people who loved him.
He needed to answer before Kai started to worry. Frowning down at his phone, he typed, - Fuck.
A few seconds passed before it vibrated an answer. - I know. I'm so sorry. I know he was good to you. He was good to me, too.
She didn't know just how good, because Nick hadn't told her about the BOLO. He'd figured it would just upset her, and he didn't need her to tell him she hadn't killed Remy. He knew that already. But Sheriff Baker had trusted Nick's word, and his instincts about her, and hadn't called the number or otherwise turned her in.
- How's Mrs B?
- Holding it together. Still feeling okay; just coughing/sneezing some. Do you think she could defy the odds and get better? Maybe that dr on tv just hadn't seen many patients.
He sent a fingers crossed emoji. Then, - I have to figure out some breakfast for these guys. Childress is sick af, Hogan's meh, but Warner's okay, and hungry.
- I'll call in an order at Ma's. I'll head your way after the funeral home gets here. There was a long pause, then the bubbles appeared again. - I think they're backed up. A lot.
He fought a shiver. - Fuck.
- Again, both succinct and accurate. Gotta go, Mrs B's tea's ready. Talk soon.
He typed and erased four or five emojis before deciding on a peace sign. He wished she were here or he were there. Something about her made him feel steadier and more sure of himself, like a type of psychic ballast.
He tucked the phone back in his pocket and wandered toward the Sheriff's office. It probably wasn't a good idea, but he wanted to check the TV. Maybe there'd been some kind of miracle cure discovered, or the talking heads were saying something new about survival odds. He turned it on and stood back to watch, but what he found dismayed him.
Most channels were playing infomercials. CNN was broadcasting a rerun of Anthony Bourdain: Parts Unknown. MSNBC had on Rachel Maddow from a week ago. Even Fox News was showing some old interview with President Orange. Soap operas or game shows on the major networks and Downton Abbey (of all things) on PBS.
Apparently that avenue of information had been shut down.
He turned it off again and pulled out his phone. When he hit the web browser, a spinning wheel appeared and went round and round until he got a time-out message. Every website he tried gave him the same. He frowned at the symbol in the top right corner: no signal. Wifi, but no cell service. He had just been texting with Kai!
- Hey, are you getting this? My phone's showing no signal. I've got wifi, but can't get on any websites or anything. Also tv is showing nothing now, reruns and crap.
He hit send and waited. And waited. After about two minutes a little red exclamation point appeared next to his message. Send failure. She didn't have an iPhone, so the messages couldn't send over wifi.
"Fuck," he mouthed, silently, and shoved a hand through his hair. It seemed to be the sentiment of the day.
That fast, someone somewhere had flipped some kind of switch, and they were cut off. No cell signal meant a lot people didn't have any sort of phone, and apparently somehow the internet had been shut down too. He had no idea how that worked, or why they'd bother leaving people with wifi that didn't do much good, but maybe the latter was to keep everyone watching Netflix while the world burned.
Nick didn't have Netflix, but he did have what felt like a front row seat to the apocalypse. It was a shitty show, all told, and he wished he could get his money back.
"Goddammit," Edie muttered at her phone. Yes, it was a cheap piece of shit burner, but it had worked fine up until now. It had been a few hours since she'd talked to Nick, and the funeral home had just called to say they were finally on the way. When she tried to text to let him know, she got a send failed message…and she had no cell service.
That seemed ominous.
She knew the home phone worked; that was what the funeral home had called; but fat lotta good that did her trying to talk to Nick. Maybe if Mrs. Baker had an iPhone she could text him over wifi and tell him to download some kind of instant messenger app that she could use on her phone too.
She tiptoed down the hall to the Bakers' bedroom. Jane hadn't left her husband's side in the hours since he'd died early that morning. Edie had been bringing her tea, and toast with honey, but the food largely went uneaten. She waited in the doorway until Jane lifted her head and offered a wan smile.
"Somethin' you need, hon?" she said. Her voice was scratchy and a bit weak, but that might just be from crying. She didn't seem to be running a fever, and her cough wasn't as bad as it had been.
"Sorry to bother you. I was just wondering if your cell is working? I was trying to text Nick, but I don't have any service and my messages are bouncing back."
"Hmm." Jane picked her phone up off the nightstand and inspected it. "I'm not showin' a cell signal either, but I do have wifi. I think I have that iMessage thingie, if Nick does. That works over wifi, doesn't it?"
Edie relaxed into a smile. "Yeah, it does. Do you mind—?"
"No, of course not. You tell him I said hello, and to take care of himself. I don't want him gettin' sick too." She handed the phone over, and Edie stepped closer long enough to put a fresh mug of tea at her elbow and to take the old one away.
"Thank you, ma'am. I'll get it back to you soon."
"No rush, sweetheart. I'm just sayin' goodbye to my John before the funeral home gets here." She sniffled and squeezed his hand. "Not too long now. Oh!" she said. "I hear a car outside. It might be them now. Be a lamb and go see for me?"
"Of course, Mrs.—Jane. I'll send them back."
It was them, two large men in suits and one thin one. Edie pointed them toward the bedroom and could hear the thinner man speaking to Mrs. Baker in hushed tones. She offered them all tea or coffee, but they declined. They were obviously in a hurry, but still they were respectful and kind.
They looked exhausted, and all three had some version of the sniffles.
They wheeled the Sheriff's body out on a gurney and boosted it into the back of a van with the home's logo on the side. Jane signed some papers and stood on the porch with Edie until the van was out of sight.
Jane let out a strangled little breath. "Well. After all that."
"They were…efficient," Edie offered, gently.
"Yes. Which I appreciate. I can pick out a suit for the funeral and—" She broke off into an abrupt, violent cough that staggered her tiny frame. "Dear me," she said when the fit passed.
"You should go lie down," Edie said. "I'll take Nick and his prisoners some lunch while you rest, but if you need anything at all, call down to the station. The landlines still work."
"Were you able to get through to him with my phone?"
"I didn't have a chance to try." She pulled the phone from her pocket and typed in Nick's number.
- It's Kai, on Mrs B's phone. Mine own't send texts.
The wait for an answer was a short one. - I tried to msg you and they all bounced back. Cell phones are down. Wifi here still works, but tv is just reruns. What the hell is going on?
Edie let out a relieved breath. "It went through. He said he doesn't have a cell signal either, but wifi down at the station still works."
She replied, - Trying to prevent panic, I guess. More panic. I'm going to make y'all some lunch and head down there. The funeral home just came for sjb.
The phone was silent a long time, to the point that Jane craned her neck to peer at the screen. "Where did he go?"
"Good question. The message went through."
Then, - Only need lunch for 3. Mike Childress is dead.
"I got here as soon as I could," she signed as she burst through the station's front door. "Are you okay? Where is he? What about the other two? Nick, Jesus, I'm so sorry!"
He was amazed that her hands could move that fast, especially with a basket looped over one arm. "He's still in his cell. I'm not sure what to do with…the body. Vince Hogan is sick as hell, but Billy Warner doesn't seem much worse than earlier. Scared, more than anything. Don't blame him."
He paused. Then, "Also hi."
"Sorry," she said. "Hi. I'm just—" She broke off with a gesture of frustration. She wasn't sure what she was. Exhausted. Terrified. Heartbroken. Too many things to put into words.
"You don't have to explain. I am too."
She set the picnic hamper of food down on the desk and boosted herself up beside it. Pulled her feet up to sit cross-legged and reached into the basket for a sandwich, which she tossed to him. He caught it with one hand and thanked her with the other.
"I hope no one's allergic to peanuts. It seemed like a peanut butter and jelly sort of day."
"Works for me," he said. He sat in the chair she normally took, the one next to the desk, and moved the hamper so he could see her while he ate. "Aren't you hungry?"
"Not really," she said. "I've been trying to get Jane to eat all morning, so I've been nibbling."
He eyed her, then passed her half his sandwich, which she took with a brief smile. She was touched by the simple kindness of the gesture, and for a moment tears threatened, but she managed to blink them away.
He noticed, of course, but he didn't comment.
They ate in silence, punctuated for her by the sound of coughs and sneezes coming from the cells. For him it was just quiet, and, for the first time all day, peaceful.
"You could call the same funeral home that took Sheriff Baker," she said after a time, "but it took them seven plus hours to get to us, and that was for the Sheriff."
"A dead prisoner wouldn't exactly be a priority."
"Nope."
He chewed a bite of peanut butter and jelly. Crunchy, with strawberry. His favorite. The bread was some of the best he'd ever had. "Did you make this? It's good."
"Just spreading peanut butter and jelly on bread, Nick. Not that hard."
He shot her a glare. "You know what I meant."
Her mouth twitched. "Yes, I made it. Honey oat with walnuts. You like it?"
"Fucking amazing. Didn't know bread could taste like this."
She ducked her head to hide her expression from him. Her hair fell in a curtain so he couldn't see how her cheeks glowed at the praise. The quickest way into her good graces was to enjoy her food, and she was especially proud of her bread.
"Maybe if we make it through this I'll make you cinnamon rolls."
"You mean those things that come in a can? With the little cup of icing?"
It was his turn to tease her now, and she stuck her tongue out at him. "Smartass."
He lifted his brows in an innocent shrug. Then he smiled, sweet and slow and almost wistful. He reached over to tap her knee with two fingers. "We'll make it, Kai. I'm not dying of some fucking flu with a stupid name, and neither are you."
"Stupid name?" she said. Her eyes flicked to where he touched her, then back to his face. "What name?"
"Apparently they're calling it Captain Trips," he signed, with both hands, and missing his easy, casual touch made her restless. She pushed off the desk and took a moment to peer through the blinds out into the empty street.
"Captain Trips," she said with a snort. "That is a stupid name."
"Told you," he said. He stood and joined her at the window. "I was exploring some earlier. There's a basement that's cooler than up here."
Her mouth fell open. She shut it again with a snap and swallowed hard. "Yeah. That's a good idea."
"I can probably do it alone," he said.
Her head tilted as she studied his earnest expression and shadowed eyes. "No," she said, slowly, and with a troubled shake of her head.
"I don't mind. I mean—I can handle it."
"I'm sure you can." She touched his cheek, a feather-light brush of her fingertips across the butterfly bandages there. "No doubt you can. But you're not."
He looked down—not very far; at six feet he probably only had four or five inches on her—to watch her face rather than her hands as she said it. He felt for her then an overwhelming, oddly familiar wave of trust and…something else. Hope, maybe. That thing with wings that was normally such a stranger to him, except for lately. When he was with her. He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and gave it a little tug. His mouth quirked in a rueful half-smile.
"I wish—"
She stopped him with a quick tap of her fingers against the back of his hand. She wasn't sure what he was about to wish, but she had an idea, and thought it was better left unsaid. "None of that," she signed, brisk and clipped. "We're here, now, in this up to our goddamn eyeballs. Only forward, Nicky. Never back. Or—sideways."
She'd used his name sign and said Nicky—he recognized the shape of it on her lips—and for a moment he had to close his eyes, to just breathe in the silent dark, and when he opened them again she was giving him a curious look.
"You're right," he said. He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin in the stubborn way she'd already come to recognize. "Only through."
"Good." She took a deep breath and stepped back to tie her long hair up in a ponytail. "Which means we should get this over with. It's not going to get any more pleasant the longer he lays there."
He grimaced in acknowledgement and gestured for her to follow him back to the cells. She grabbed the two other bagged lunches and a couple of bottles of water on the way. Billy Warner accepted his with a mumbled thanks, but Vince Hogan barely stirred off the cot.
"He's real sick," Warner said. "Doc ain't been in since last night."
"The doctor's a little bit busy right now," Edie told him. "Lots of people are sick."
"You just gonna leave me in here with him? And with Mike?! He's dead!"
She glanced at Nick, then back at Warner. "We're moving him right now. Eat your lunch. Make sure you drink all your water. Try to get some water in your friend, too."
He gave a phlegmy snort. "Look at you, talkin' to me like you give a goddamn shit. I kicked your friend's ass, Miss Highfalutin', and I'd do it again gimme half a chance."
She put on her sweetest smile and leaned in close to the bars. "I know you would, sugar. That's why he's not opening this cell for you any time soon. Maybe change your fucking attitude and you might get lucky."
He might have reached for her then, grabbed her, but he was slow with fever, and she pulled back before the thought fully formed in his fogged brain. "Come back over here, sweetheart, and we'll see who gets lucky," he said with a leering wink.
Nick took her arm and pulled her away. "Don't," he said. "Guy's mean, stupid, and scared. It's a bad combo."
"I'm feeling at least two out of those three," she signed without speaking it aloud. "I'll let you guess which two."
His face scrunched in commiseration before he waved her toward the other cell. Mike Childress lay where Nick had found him, sprawled out on the floor, his head against the bars and his feet against the can. The glands under his jaw and in his arm pits were hugely swollen, and flies collected in the snot that covered his face.
"I'll drag him out," Nick said. "Then you grab the feet and I'll get the head. Okay?"
She couldn't take her eyes off his body. Jane Baker had kept her husband cleaned up, and he'd looked almost peaceful when the funeral home boys arrived to take him away. Childress looked like he'd died exactly as he had: alone and afraid, a rat in a cage.
"I think you have to let them go," she signed. "Especially if Hogan…it's not right, Nick. People weren't meant to die like this."
He took one of her hands and turned her face away from the gruesome sight. Her eyes followed more slowly, but finally they darted up to meet his. "I will," he said, patiently and gently. "But right now we have to take care of Childress. You don't have to do this, Kai. I told you that."
"No," she said. She closed her eyes and took a slow breath in and out. Gave herself a little shake. "No, I'm here. Let's do it."
He nodded with far more bravado than he felt. Inside his stomach quaked and churned. It was all he could do to keep from bolting. But he had a responsibility, and this was part of it. He gave her shoulder a reassuring pat and turned to unlock the door.
When he grabbed Childress' shoulders, a small cloud of angry black flies erupted from his mouth. Nick stumbled back; would have fallen if she hadn't been there to catch him. She shot a glare over her shoulder, no doubt at Warner and some smart remark that Nick couldn't hear, and then offered Nick a reassuring smile.
"That was gross as shit," she said.
He nodded adamant agreement and took a moment to collect himself before he reached for Childress again. The body was stiff, but the smell wasn't as bad as he was expecting. He dragged him clear, and Kai moved around to his feet. She knelt, grabbed his ankles, and lifted.
The steep stairs to the basement were tricky, but they managed it without incident, and finally they had him stretched out on the basement floor. Nick crossed Childress' arms over his chest while Kai found a tarp to drape over the body.
"Should we say something?" she said.
He shrugged. "Fuck Captain Trips."
"Fuck Captain Trips."
They stood shoulder to shoulder looking down at the draped body, until at last she pulled away and mounted the stairs. He lingered only a little longer before following. He flipped off the light and shut the door behind him, and when he walked out to the main office she was nowhere to be seen.
He frowned and glanced down the hall. The bathroom door was open, the light on. He wandered that way to find her bent over the sink soaping and scrubbing her hands. He took the sink next to her and washed his, counting to thirty in his head as he did so, but even after he'd finished and dried them she was still scrubbing.
Steam rolled up from the tap and when he caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror he saw that she was crying. Shit, he thought. He reached around to turn off the water. Gently turned her toward him and patted her hands dry with a paper towel.
"I think you got it," he said.
"I'm sorry."
He wiped the tears off her cheeks and tossed the towel in the trash. "What for?"
She sniffed. "I'm really not losing it. I promise."
"I know," he said.
"You're very calm."
A laconic shrug. "I have lots of practice acting like things don't bother me."
"Of course," she said. "Bullies can smell weakness like sharks smell blood." She slumped against the wall next to the sink and let her head fall back to rest on the cool tile. "I should get back to Mrs. Baker."
"You should try to get some rest," he said. "I don't think anything'll be any easier for a while."
"You should too. Your prisoners aren't going anywhere."
"Okay. I'll take a nap if you will."
Her lips curved, briefly. "Deal." A long sigh and she hauled herself upright. "When Dr. Soames came by to pronounce Sheriff Baker he told me he has a little cabin up by a lake about an hour from here."
"Is he going there?"
"No," she said. "He said he's sticking it out until every last patient is either recovered or gone. He said we should go there."
He frowned. "I don't understand."
"He knows we aren't sick. Whether we're immune or not is a different question, in his mind, but since we haven't caught it yet, he thinks we should get away from people until things die down. He said he keeps it pretty well stocked with non-perishables, and fishing in the lake is good." She peered at him. "Do you fish?"
He gave a silent laugh and shook his head.
"That's okay; I do. There's a solar generator in case the power fails, and it's on well water."
"What about Nebraska?"
"We're still going to Nebraska," she said. "But…things are going to be hairy for a while. You saw the news before they cut it off. People are rioting, the military is out there doing God knows what. Until…" She paused for a deep breath. "Until the flu does its work, it'll be mayhem out there, and it might be better to find a place to lie low for a week or two before we head for Nebraska."
He hadn't thought of that, but she was right. Scared, desperate people did scary, desperate things, and he'd already had his monthly ass-kicking. He wasn't looking for another one any time soon. He had no doubt Kai could defend herself, but he didn't want her to have to unless absolutely necessary. He felt a quiet, distant urgency to reach Hemingford Home and Mother Abagail, but the feeling probably wouldn't be either quiet or distant if their presence was immediately required.
"Do you know how to find it?"
"He gave me directions. And the keys."
"You're right," he said. "It's a good idea." He scrubbed a hand down his face, wincing at his busted nose, swollen eye, cut cheek, and split lip. "I feel like fuckin' Frankenstein."
"Look a little like him too," she said with a sympathetic grimace. "But, like, in a cute way. Soft Frank."
"My face is normally kind of okay. At least"—he shot her a quick smirk—"no one's ever kicked me out of bed for eating crackers."
It made her laugh, as he'd meant it to. "Who could, with eyes like those?"
Funny, he wanted to say but didn't, I've thought the same thing about you. Instead he just grinned and shrugged. Then, "Go check on Jane, then lie down. I'll text her number if anything happens."
She nodded. "Yeah, okay. And I'm sorry again about…" She waved a hand toward the sink, but he just shook his head.
"Don't. No need." He stepped closer, as though to put his arm around her, but at the last minute twisted away and gestured for her to precede him. "I'll walk you out," he said.
She hesitated. Then, in a rush, "I don't like to be touched. Casually."
A thoughtful tilt of his head. "I got that impression. If I made you uncomfortable—"
She held up a hand to stop him. "I don't mind. When it's you."
His full mouth eased into one of those slow, wry smiles. "I don't much like to be touched either," he said.
"Okay," she said. "As long as we're clear on that."
Their eyes met, dark brown on brilliant gray-blue, and he held out his hand. The tension drained from her shoulders. She laced her fingers loosely through his. He ran his thumb across her knuckles, and neither of them let go until she walked out the door and onto the hot, empty sidewalk.
Edie was in the Bakers' kitchen working on a batch tea cakes when the doorbell rang. Jane was finally asleep after a long, restless afternoon of fever-driven hallucinations punctuated by periods of lucidity when she mourned for her husband. Edie had slept a little, but only an hour or two, and at this point she was running on caffeine and adrenaline, so the sound of the bell nearly gave her a heart attack.
She pressed a hand to her chest and took several deep breaths. Calm the fuck down, d'Arnaud, she told herself. It's only the end of the world.
That thought made her giggle (she was very tired), and she dropped the spoon into the bowl and went to answer it. She checked the peephole, and when she opened the door her eyes were wide with surprise. "Nick! How did you get here? Are you okay? What's going on?"
He shook his head and gestured inside.
"Yeah, of course, come to the kitchen. Mrs. Baker's sleeping and I've been working. Do you want something? Coffee? Tea?"
He felt some of his exhaustion slip away the second he saw her, and at the mention of hot caffeine he perked. "If you have fresh coffee I'll love you forever."
"Ahh…" She laughed a little and looked away. "You must be as tired as I am. This way."
He followed her down the hall, his steps slow and shuffling, and sank gratefully into the chair she offered. She brought him coffee, but he shook his head at the milk and sugar. He did shove two entire still-warm teacakes into his mouth and let his head fall back as he chewed. He gave her a thumbs-up before taking a long sip of coffee and swallowing it all down.
"Well," she said. "I guess it has been a while since pb and j."
"Sorry," he said with a grimace.
"Nothing to apologize for. They were made to be eaten. Can I make you something more substantial?"
"Maybe in a little while. I need to…" He blew out a breath that ruffled his hair and drank some more coffee. "Vince Hogan died a few hours ago."
"Shit," she said.
"Yeah. It wasn't really a surprise, but…" His face scrunched. He made a pattern in the crumbs on his plate and studied it like a Rorschach test. "Why am I so bothered by it? Those guys could've killed me. Booth wanted to kill me, because I punched him, but Doc Soames drove up and they ran off. I might be in traction or the morgue right now if not for him, but I feel sorry for these two dead idiots rotting up the Shoyo jail!" He threw both hands out in a gesture of frustration and slumped back in his chair. "It's fucking stupid."
"No it's not. It's compassion, Nick. Those assholes couldn't beat it out of you."
A frustrated snort. "They sure as fuck tried."
"For what it's worth, I'm glad they didn't."
He shifted restlessly. "Yeah. I guess I am too."
She replaced his empty plate with her own. He gave a nod of thanks and nibbled one of the cakes before setting it down again. He had the urge to get up and pace, but he was too tired.
"What happened to Billy Warner?"
"Let him go," he said. "Like I said I would." He frowned. "I would have anyway. I know Sheriff Baker gave me an important job, but I think even he'd recognize that these are unprecedented circumstances."
"I think he would," she said, mildly.
"How's Mrs. Baker?"
Now it was her turn to get restless. She rose from the chair and went back to her mixing bowl. Gave it a few halfhearted stirs. The oven timer went, and as she opened it the room filled with steam and the delicious scents of strawberry and…roses? Yeah, roses. The two he'd devoured had been vanilla, but apparently she had more exotic recipes on deck.
"Not great," she finally said. "Her fever came back. Worse than ever, I think. I've been giving her Tylenol for it, and bathing her in cool water and alcohol, but it's not helped. She's finally sleeping now." She slumped against the counter with a grimace. Rubbed the back of her neck. Squeezed it and arched her back to stretch the aching muscles there.
Nick was proud that even in his worn-down state he still managed not to ogle her chest as she did it. She must have noticed, because when he finally did look at her, she was giving him a knowing sort of smirk.
"How did you get here?" She knew he didn't drive. Maybe he had a bicycle she didn't know about? Or had managed to hitch a ride?
He thrust a hand into his hair and then waved it toward the street. "Walked," he said. "It was only a few miles, but after carrying Hogan to the basement—"
"Alone?! Nick, I would've helped you!"
"And getting my ass kicked the other night," he continued like she hadn't moved, "it seemed a lot further."
"Were you able to sleep this afternoon?"
He shrugged. "A few hours. You?"
"About the same."
He finished off his coffee and pushed to his feet. "You go rest. I'll sit with Mrs. Baker for a while."
"Are you sure?"
"I'll come wake you up when I need you to spell me. We can trade off, so she's not alone."
She shifted her weight uncertainly. Glanced over her shoulder at the counter full of finished teacakes and raw batter. "I was going to make you something to eat."
"I can manage. Go to bed!"
"You're so fucking bossy," she said with a scowl.
"Only sometimes." He flashed a tired, drunken grin. "And I don't think you mind as much as you pretend to."
She lifted a brow but decided to let that lie. "Fine. Their bedroom is at the end of the hall, third door on the right. I'll be in the guest room, first door on the left. They have their own bathroom, but there's also one across the hall from the guest room. Don't let me sleep too long, Nick, I mean it."
"I won't. I promise." He waved her off, out the door and into the hallway. "Go!" He followed her down the hall, shooing her the whole way, and just before the bedroom door closed behind her she shot him the bird. He grinned at the shut door a moment before giving himself a little shake and continuing on to the Bakers' bedroom.
Kai had left a small lamp burning on Jane's vanity. It was just enough to keep the room from being dark without disturbing her as she slept. Nick stepped closer to the bed and pressed the back of his hand against her forehead, but before he even touched her he could feel the heat radiating off her skin. There was swelling under her jaw, too. That was usually the last stage, but it wasn't too bad yet, so that gave him a sliver a hope.
Jane stirred, shoving the covers off with an irritated gesture, and opened her eyes. "Nick," she said. Her lips moved in a beatific smile. "How wonderful to see you."
He smiled back and pointed at her. Then he frowned and pressed his hand to his forehead. Waved like he was fanning himself.
"Fever's bad," she agreed. "Edie brought me a cool cloth earlier. Could you rewet it for me? It was helping, I think."
He nodded and grabbed the washcloth and basin off the nightstand. In the bathroom he let the tap run until the water was as cold as it was going to get before filling the bowl and adding some rubbing alcohol. He hated the smell of it, alcohol. It reminded him of those days in the hospital after his mother's accident, sitting by her bed wondering if she'd ever wake up. More recently it recalled the fresh pain of his beating, and Doc Soames' well-meaning but stinging first aid.
Back in the bedroom Jane was shifting restlessly in bed. "Can't get comfortable," she said. "Everything hurts."
Nick nodded in commiseration and handed her the wrung-out cloth.
"You're an angel. Where did Edie get to?"
He folded his hands against his face to mime someone asleep.
"Good. That poor girl is running herself ragged." She eyed him. "You don't look much better. I know you children are young, but you still need your sleep." She sighed (or so he thought) and her expression turned dreamy and faraway. "Of course, you don't get much sleep when you're young and in love. John and I sure didn't."
He gave her an odd look. Pointed at himself, then over his shoulder toward the hall and shook his head.
"I know John's not here," she said. "You don't have to tell me that. He's down at the station. Winning that election means so much to him. He really wants to do right by this town."
That, of course, wasn't what he'd meant, but he had a feeling Jane didn't know exactly when or where she was, so he let her talk. She meandered on about John and their courtship. The wedding. The honeymoon.
Her eyes began to drift closed, and Nick gently took the washcloth from her limp hand. "My honeymoon dress," she said.
His head tilted in a question.
"It's there, in the closet. Pale blue with lace. You'll know it from the lace." She turned her head to cough, then looked at him again. "Bury me in my honeymoon dress, Nicky. Please."
He gave a firm shake of his head and pointed at her. Wagged his finger like he was scolding a child.
She smiled just a little, a wavering curve of her chapped lips. "That's very kind, but we both know where I'm headed. It's okay." She patted his hand. "It's okay. I'll be with my John." Her eyes closed. "My John…"
He watched carefully to make sure her chest still rose and fell, and when he saw it he sat back with a relieved gust of breath. He'd thought that was it, that he'd have to go wake Kai and tell her Mrs. Baker had died while she (finally) slept, and she'd missed it.
She began to shiver, so he pulled the covers up over her again. Gradually she relaxed, but her breathing remained rough and irregular. He was glad he couldn't hear how it sounded; that would probably make things worse. He shoved his hands into his pockets and wandered to the bedroom window. Outside the street was empty, illuminated by cold, impersonal LED streetlights that cast wide white pools on the asphalt. In the distance lightning flashed, a great fork of it.
Maybe it would rain and break some of the heat. That was always the wish as June spun toward July, and the number of hot, endless days stacked up behind you seemed the same as the number ahead.
Hopefully there wouldn't be a tornado, since there wasn't anybody out there to warn them about it. Would his phone do its warning thing? Or did someone have to push a button somewhere for that?
Something moving out on the street caught his eye. A dog? A healthy dog?! It stepped from the shadows into the light and he saw at once that no, it wasn't a dog. It was a coyote. Just one, alone, mangy-looking and skinny. Its gold eyes seemed to fix themselves on Nick, as if such a thing were possible through a window, and he thought he saw an old, wicked knowing there, even from such a distance.
He was imagining things. Spooked by the day and the days and the coming storm. The coyote watched him, calmly, and Nick reached up to close the blinds.
Imagining things or not, coyotes were his, and Nick wanted no part of them. He'd had no idea coyotes even lived in Arkansas. And didn't they usually run in packs?
I'm not your roadrunner, motherfucker, he thought. I'm your anvil from the clear blue sky, and I'm not afraid of you.
Chapter 6: Tomorrow
Summary:
Nick and Kai keep watch over Jane Baker's final hours, then grow closer in the aftermath.
Notes:
If you read ch5 within like...2 hours or so of me posting it, you might wanna go back and check, because I added a bit at the end, because I decided I wanted this whole part to stand alone. The "new" section starts when Nick gets to the Bakers' and ends with the coyote, so if you read that, you're good. If not, you might wanna hop back and check it out.
I'd love to hear what y'all think!! :) Also, I think from now on I'm going to try to stick to publishing Friday and Saturday. I've got through chapter 13 completely written, and that schedule gives me time to keep ahead of things. This one's gonna be long, kiddos.
Chapter Text
teach me how to use
the love that people say you make
The Avett Brothers, "Laundry Room"
June 25 - Shoyo, AR
Hours later they sat in the bedroom together, one on either side of the bed, and kept their final death vigil for Jane Baker. She thrashed in her sleep, and when she woke she called out for John in a thick, choking voice. Nick or Edie would try to soothe her, and she might doze off again, only for the whole thing to repeat a few minutes later.
They watched her struggle for every breath and they just wanted it to be over. Edie couldn't stop thinking about Remy and Nick kept getting up to pace laps around the room. He'd stop sometimes and peer out the window like he was looking for something, but when she asked him what, he just shook his head and kept walking.
It was nearly noon, and Nick was at the window again. Jane's eyes opened, and for the first time in hours she seemed lucid. She turned her head and saw Edie, and a brief smile flickered across her lips.
"You're still here," she gasped between breaths.
"Of course I am. Nick's here too. We're not leaving you."
"Not too much longer."
"Please don't say that," Edie said. She took Jane's hand between her own and squeezed, gently. It was hot and dry, the skin thin as paper. She ran a cool cloth over Jane's forehead and down the side of her face, but she pushed her away with surprising strength.
"None of that now. I need to say something."
Edie glanced up at Nick, but Jane shook her head. "This is for you alone, not him." She closed her eyes, and for a moment Edie thought she'd fallen asleep, but she was just gathering herself. She opened them again and fixed Edie with a firm glare. "Love isn't built on lies, Kai. You know that."
Her mouth fell open. First of all, how did Mrs. Baker know her middle name? Secondly, what the hell was she talking about? She swallowed, and when she spoke again her voice was shaky and rough. "You mean—you mean Sarah and me?" she said.
"No, sweetheart, not your wife. I know you loved her."
How? I never even told you I was married, much less to a woman!
"But she's not who I'm talkin' about." She gestured her closer, and with a pounding heart she leaned in. "You have to tell him, Kai," she whispered. "You have to tell him what you did."
A single tear slipped down Edie's cheek, but she barely noticed it. "I can't," she breathed through lips gone numb. "I've never told anyone. He'd—hate me."
"He could never hate you. Just as you could never hate him. It's not how you're built, my little wave."
She let out a cry and shoved back from the bed so hard the chair toppled. Nick spun toward her, alarmed by the sudden, violent movement.
"What's wrong?! Is she—?" No, he could see that Mrs. Baker's eyes were open and her chest still moved. "What's wrong?" he said again.
She could only shake her head, eyes huge and face pale.
"Aloha au ia 'oe, my little wave. I love you, and don't be afraid. Don't be afraid. John! Don't be afraid, he's coming, he's comin', the coyotes are his!"
Kai pressed a hand over her mouth to muffle a sob and Nick stared first at Jane, then at her, then back to Jane. The woman in the bed grew more agitated with each word, building to what seemed like a scream from the way her face contorted and cords stood out on her neck. She fell back against the soaked pillow, spent, and let out one last, long breath before she went completely still.
Kai stood frozen, both hands over her mouth now, and her entire body shook as she cried. And maybe screamed, he couldn't be sure. He pressed gentle fingers against Mrs. Baker's neck, but nothing moved there. He held his cheek just above her mouth, but he felt no flutter of breath.
Finally he straightened. "She's gone." He waited for a reaction, but Kai's eyes were still fixed on Jane. "Kai?" He went around the bed and touched her arm. Pulled her gently around so that she faced him instead of Jane. Her hands fell away from her mouth but she was white as a sheet and she trembled all over.
"Kai, what happened? What was she talking about?"
She gave herself a rough shake. Her eyes were wide and dazed and staring, but not at him. "I don't—I don't know." Her fingers seemed too stiff to form the words. He took her hands in his and rubbed them, hard, as though restoring circulation.
"Kai, please. Tell me what's wrong. I didn't understand part of it. Was it English?"
A quick jerk of her head. "Hawaiian. I love you. She…she called me little wave."
His brow creased in confusion. "You mean like—like your mother called you? You said little water, but—"
"Either or, she'd sign water but sometimes write or orally say wave," she said in a rush. "She called me Kai and little wave and she spoke 'Ōlelo and she knew about—" She broke off and shook her head again, trying to deny the truth of what she'd seen and heard.
"Knew about what?"
Finally she looked at him, and some focus returned to her glazed eyes. "What did she mean about the coyotes?"
He frowned. Glanced behind him at the window and tugged at his hair. "Last night, after you went to bed but before the storm hit…" A silent sigh. "I thought I saw a coyote outside. Just one. It seemed to look right at me. Creeped me out a little."
"That's why you keep staring out the window. Did you tell her about it?"
"No, of course not. It was too…ephemeral. She would've thought I was nuts."
"I don't think you're nuts," she said.
"I know you don't." He paused. "You didn't tell her anything about your mom?"
"No, nothing. I told her I'm from Louisiana, and that I'm a baker. She also knew Sarah was my wife, but I didn't tell her anything about Sarah at all."
He rubbed a hand over his face, for once enjoying the tug of pain from his injuries. At least he knew that was real. "Okay, so. You said Remy sounded just like your dad before he died, so maybe it was the same kind of thing. Only—nice."
She frowned. "Why didn't you get to hear from your mom?"
"I'd rather not, thanks," he said, dryly. "Freaky coyotes and scary dreams are enough otherworldly weirdness for me."
"You dreamt about him last night?" she said. "During the storm?"
He gave a grim nod. "A bad one."
"Me too."
They stood watching each other a long time. Some of the color had returned to her face, but he could tell she was still badly shaken. He couldn't blame her.
Finally, "Did she tell you about the dress? Her honeymoon dress?" she said.
"Blue with lace."
"I looked in the closet earlier. It's there." She glanced at the bed and her face creased with emotion. "We should clean her up. Get her ready."
"Take her to the funeral home to be with her husband."
"Yeah," she said on a nod. "That's a good idea." Her head moved on rusty hinges until their eyes met. "I'm going to clean up a little bit, then we can get started. Okay?"
"Take your time," he said.
Another brief, distracted nod. She slipped past him and toward the bathroom, and he turned to watch her progress until the door shut behind her. For several long moments he couldn't move. His worn-out mind tried to process what had happened in the last ten minutes or so, but he honestly wasn't sure. He knew he hadn't imagined it, and he believed in a lot more weird shit than he had just a week ago, but….
The bathroom door jumped in its frame as something heavy and solid hit it from the other side. Startled, concerned, he rushed over and knocked. Of course he couldn't hear whether or not she wanted him to come in, so he waited a few seconds and pushed it open.
She sat on the floor, her back against the tub, her head bowed. He frowned and stepped toward her. Something shifted under his foot, and when he looked down he saw a large pair of metal scissors. Frown deepening, he bent to retrieve them before approaching her. There was no blood anywhere, on the scissors or the floor or her, so that was good. But something was different.
His eyes narrowed as he studied her, then went wide as he realized. Her hair!
She tipped her head back to look at him, and it swung around her shoulders, jagged and uneven. A long dark rope lay curled in her lap. She'd cut off her hair.
"Kai…?"
"It was in my way," she said. "Stupid to have hair that long now anyway. Soon we won't have access to a regular shower and it'll just get all dirty and gross. It's hot and it catches on things and—" She broke off and heaved in a breath. "Sometimes I do impulsive things when I'm upset."
He gave a slow nod and lowered himself onto the floor next to her.
"How bad does it look?" she said after a moment.
He waved his hand in a so-so gesture, then nudged her and flashed a quick smile to show he was teasing. "I can maybe help you even it up some," he said.
"That would be nice. Thank you." There was a long, long silence. She bit her lip and thought about what Jane—her mother?—had said. Lifted her hands to say something, but then let them fall back into her lap.
Love can't be built on lies, she thought. Internally she snorted. Good thing we're not building anything, then.
She looked down at the braid in her lap and held up the severed end with a rueful little laugh. "Honestly it was either this or try to seduce you, and fucking on a bathroom floor isn't one of my top fantasies."
He almost choked on his own spit, and he had to cough a few times before he had himself together enough to sign. "I'm sorry?" he said, because any of the other options that flashed through his head were out of the question.
"I tend to use sex as a distraction from feeling my emotions." She paused. "Hence cheating on my wife rather than just telling her I wanted a divorce."
"Ah." He frowned, then tilted his head in a shrug. "You know I'm here for you in any capacity you might need."
"Ha! Yeah, I'm sure you are." But she grinned as she said it, and he grinned back.
His expression sobered as he glanced around the room. Studied the linoleum so clean it almost sparkled. The matching towels. The fancy soap and the tray with candles and pretty little decorative rocks. At last his mouth quirked. "I've fucked in worse."
Her eyes followed his before landing on his face. "Hm," she said. "What, the unquenchable hormones of a twenty-something cis man?"
"Sort of. Not exactly." He settled in more comfortably and pulled his knees up, feet flat on the floor. "I told you I took off when I was eighteen. Wandered around and picked up odd jobs here and there. Sometimes the jobs weren't as easy to come by as others, and, well. I needed money." He spread his hands to indicate the bathroom, as though to say you do the math.
She did, quickly. "Hm," she said again. She eased herself into a mirror of his posture and for several long minutes she was quiet.
He wondered if he'd just blown it. Maybe some things were better kept secret.
In truth she wasn't sure what to say. She had questions, but she didn't want to insult or upset him. Or pry, though she felt that point between them had passed. At last she said, "Did you…" She frowned. "I mean…you…it was because…" An annoyed sigh. "No one forced you, right?"
"Oh." He shook his head, quickly. "Nah. I mean, another kid I knew suggested I try it, because he said it was usually easy money, but it's not like I had a pimp or anything. Just sometimes when I needed some extra cash I'd…" He trailed off and cast her an uncertain glance, but she waved a hand.
"Don't worry about being delicate on my account."
He let out a breath. "I'd suck a few cocks, or maybe get mine sucked, make a couple hundred bucks, and then I could afford a place to stay and something to eat. It was never a big deal, really. I was selective. A lot more selective than some of the guys I knew who did the same thing. And I was safe, always used protection and got tested a lot. My only real worry was that some guy'd pull a badge some time and then I'd really be fucked."
Her mouth quirked. "Did that ever happen?"
"Yeah, once." He scowled. "I should've known from that stupid cop haircut he had, but I was careless." A brief shake of his head. "I was charged, but the judge let me go because my record was clean, and I think she felt sorry for the poor deaf mutey out on the street."
"You gave her the puppy eyes, didn't you?"
"Maybe a little. You gotta play to your strengths, right?"
"Truly," she said with a wry smile to match his.
"Sheriff Baker must've seen it when he pulled my sheet, but he didn't say anything."
"One measly solicitation charge that was dismissed?" She flicked her fingers. "I wouldn't have said anything either. He might've thought it was just a misunderstanding."
"It wasn't." He eyed her a moment, then turned his head to look her full in the face. "You get that, right? It was never a misunderstanding. It's not something I'm ashamed of, but it's not exactly something I'm advertising, either."
She did get it. He'd told people before only to have it bite him in the ass, so he'd learned to keep it close. He'd learned to keep everything close, just like she did. But he'd told her because he trusted her—not to keep his secret (because who the fuck was there to tell?), but to not judge him for it.
"Nick…" She shook her head, lips curved in a soft smile. "Good for you for utilizing your talents in a lucrative way."
"Ha. You sound like a résumé."
The smile widened. "I know." She nudged him. "Look, it doesn't matter. It wouldn't have mattered even if the world weren't ending, but now that it is, who the fuck cares? If you're looking for someone to judge you, you've come to the wrong bathroom."
He nodded slowly, expression thoughtful. "I like this bathroom," he said, finally.
"I do too."
Their eyes met. Held. He knew there was something she wasn't saying, something that he'd missed back in the bedroom. Whatever it was had scared her more than any of the rest of it put together. She'd said Jane had known about something, but then dodged when he'd asked her what it was. She didn't want to tell him. Wasn't ready to, he supposed.
That was all right. He could wait. She might be afraid of her secrets, but he wasn't.
In that moment the air between them changed with an almost physical sensation, like ears popping in an airplane. Pressure eased, rearranged itself, settled in differently. She drew in a little breath, and the shadows in her stormy eyes seemed to thin a bit.
He smiled with half his mouth, just enough to show the dimples on that side, before he settled himself against the bathtub and let his head fall back to rest against the shower door. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the dark, empty silence. There was movement next to him, but he stayed still, and after another few moments her head dropped lightly onto his shoulder. He scooted down so she'd be more comfortable. Draped an arm around her and tilted to press his cheek to her silky hair.
She closed her eyes and wrapped both arms around his waist, but was careful not to squeeze. She didn't want to hurt him. He smelled of sweat and maybe a little bit of death, but she didn't care, because he was solid and warm and real. His breath moved in and out and his heart beat in his chest and he wasn't a ghost or a dream. He was Nick. Just Nick.
He ran a hand through her uneven hair and brushed his fingers against the back of her neck. Her shampoo smelled vaguely herbal and sweet, and beneath that was plain ordinary sweat and just then it was the perfect combination. He'd had enough of the uncanny to last a lifetime (though he knew the uncanny wasn't anywhere near as done with him as he was with it), and for the moment he was perfectly content to sit on a hard bathroom floor and hold this woman and not think about anything else but how soft and good she felt pressed against his side. Kai. Just Kai.
They stayed like that for a long time. Long enough that he dozed off a little, and when she stirred he jerked awake and gave a silent groan. Snoozing on bathroom floors was not for the bruised and battered. She pressed a hand to his chest in apology, then jerked it back when he flinched.
"What's wrong? I hurt you?"
He gave a little grimace and took his arm back. Hesitating, his eyes asking her to understand what he was doing, he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. He stopped about halfway down, then pulled his undershirt aside to expose the deep, sickle-shaped gash above his left nipple.
"Oh shit," she said with a wince. "They did that?"
"Booth," he said.
"Christ, he almost took your nipple off."
He tugged his undershirt back into place and redid the buttons. Flashed a sardonic half-smile as he remembered. "Doc Soames said I nearly lost my tit."
"Stabbed in the tit. What a way to go."
"Just like in Jennifer's Body," he said with a grim nod.
Her brow quirked. "You're so butch."
He shrugged. "All my murder weapons do come from Home Depot."
They shared a pair of dumb grins before she pushed herself upright. She shook herself to get the stiffness out, then stretched her arms above her head and arched her back. Bent at the waist to touch the floor. Straightened and twisted her torso first one way, then the other. She glanced down at him and reached out a hand, which he accepted gratefully, but when he attempted to imitate her stretching routine, he was less than successful.
"Ow," he said.
"Poor baby," she said, patting his cheek. "There's some aspirin in the cabinet there."
He waved a hand to indicate he would get some later, then pointed at her. She frowned. Turned to look in the mirror and made a face. He forestalled her with a gesture. Waved the scissors before pointing at her, then at the spot where she stood.
She waited while he dragged one of the chairs in from the bedroom and positioned it in front of the sink. He presented it to her with a little bow and an offered hand. She fought a grin as she curtseyed and allowed him to seat her. He draped a towel over her shoulders and then studied her hair from different angles.
"I think this should be wet first," he said with a brief frown.
She bit her lip. "That's what she said."
He shot her a Look. "Funny. Stay here." He disappeared for a while, and when he returned he had the spray bottle Jane used to mist her plants. He emptied it into the sink and refilled it with fresh water before spraying her hair damp. Satisfied at last, he started to cut.
It took longer than she'd thought it would, and when he finally stood back to let her inspect his work, she was impressed. "Wow," she said and ran her hands through it. "It actually looks good. You did a great job."
He tilted his head back and forth. "It's not bad. I worked one summer at a barber shop, mostly just sweeping and keeping the place clean, but I paid attention."
"Hmm," she said. Her lips moved in a droll moue. "When you weren't sucking dick in the back room, that is."
"Haha. I didn't suck any—well, no, that's not true. I had a weird on-again-off-again thing with a closeted bartender at the place down the street. But that was different."
"Closeted?" she said. "Or straight?"
He shrugged. "Either or. Ended the same."
She winced in sympathy. "Never fall for the straight ones. It always ends the same."
"I know that now, but back then I was young and dumb."
"And you're a regular Methuselah these days," she said.
"Well I'm not as old as you, of course, but I've learned a few things over the years."
"Touché," she said with a dry quirk of her brows.
Another shrug and a grin before he rested a hand on either side of her face and held her head still so that he could give her hair one last look. He stood behind her, expression intent, and she watched him as he studied her. Some of the bruises were fading to yellow, and the swelling around his eye was almost gone. It was easier to see what he really looked like now, with his expressive, slightly down-turned eyes and his wide mouth. His beard needed a trim, and his hair too, but she suspected he stayed scruffy because without it he'd look about seventeen. Puppy eyes and a baby face. Only his nose, long and just a bit too big for his face, and that messy beard saved him.
He finally noticed her regard and smiled at her in the mirror, soft and a little tentative. She reached up to grip his wrist. Squeezed it and pressed her fingers lightly against the pulse there. He ran his thumbs along the strong lines of her jaw and behind her ears in a way that made her shiver. They held on a little longer, each enjoying the warmth and connection of skin against skin, before they both let go and he took a step back.
"It looks good," he said about her hair. "If you want it shorter or anything, let me know."
"It's good like this. There's still enough to pull it back, but it's off my shoulders." She ran a hand over her face and cast a sober look back toward the bedroom. "We should—get her ready. I can do it if it makes you uncomfortable."
He shook his head. "No. Both of us." He hesitated. "I should have asked your help with Vince. I just thought…it was awful enough the first time."
"It's okay. Just from now on…"
"I know," he said. "From now on." They shared a smile, and he held out a hand. "Come on. She needs to be with John."
She laced her fingers through his, and they went to take care of the woman who had taken such good care of them.
Chapter 7: Tomorrow, con't
Summary:
Nick and Kai take care of Jane's body, and then Ray Booth returns to finish what he started with Nick.
Notes:
Thanks so much for the kudos since last time, y'all! I'd love some comments if you're so inclined. :)
Chapter Text
all i'm doing is trying to get by
the road is getting narrow
i'm flying through the arrows
your sentences are sparrows flying through the sky
Bob Schneider, "Dirtmouth"
Together they stripped off Jane Baker's sweaty nightgown and wiped her down with rose-scented water. The honeymoon dress was much too big, but Kai pinned it up the back and around the waist. Nick added a string of pearls from her jewelry box, and then they took turns carrying her the two miles to the funeral home, because they didn't have a car that would take her lying down.
It was hot and humid and so goddamn quiet it gave them both the chills. They passed more than one wrecked car, the inhabitant dead or missing. Three churches so full of people they spilled out into the lawn, where they lay roasting in the blazing sun.
When they got there the funeral home was locked, and no one was around. Nick banged on the door while Kai yelled for someone to come, but it was as silent as the rest of the town had been. Just across the road was a pretty cemetery with lots of shady trees and solemn statues. Without discussing it, they took her there, found a spot under a spreading oak with a sweet looking angel nearby, and laid her out on the grass.
Neither spoke the entire trip back. Occasionally their shoulders brushed or their hands bumped, but otherwise they walked without touching.
Finally, a few blocks from the Bakers', Kai broke the silence. "We have to stop by the pound," she signed.
He blinked. "What?"
"The pound. The Humane Society! I know dogs"—she winced—"get the flu, but! But, if we're immune, maybe some dogs are too. What if there's a perfectly healthy dog trapped in a cage right now? And also we have to free the cats."
He stared at her a moment, at the conviction in her eyes and the stubborn slant to her mouth. He shrugged. "Yeah, okay."
Now it was her turn to blink. "That easy?"
"It would be both mean and stupid to try to talk you out of it. I'll check on the dogs, and you can take care of the cats. Okay?"
She knew he was protecting her from having to see a bunch of sick dogs, and for that she was grateful. "I'll figure out where it is. We'll stop on our way out of town."
"Okay," he said again. Then, "Mrs. Baker told me we should take anything we need from the house. She said the Sheriff liked to be prepared, so there are a lot of supplies in the basement."
She nodded. "She told me the same. Also she mentioned camping, so there might be tents and stuff too."
"Did she mention the car?"
"A hybrid, she said. It would help with the gas problem."
He hesitated. "Does it feel weird to you, scavenging their house like that?"
She glanced at him, brow crinkled thoughtfully. "A little. But she was adamant. We should think of it less as scavenging, and more as…them helping us one last time."
They'd reached the house by now, and they ambled up the walk and onto the front porch. She paused to glance around the neighborhood and wrapped her arms around her middle. Shivered despite the baking heat.
"I'd like to take a shower before we do anything," she said.
"You do that, and I'll check out the basement. Then we can switch."
"I'll make us something to eat, too."
His mouth quirked. "You really do love feeding people, don't you?"
She lifted her hands in a helpless shrug. "It's how I show I care. The only thing not improved by a good meal is a stomach virus, and luckily neither of us have that problem."
"Can't argue with that." She offered a tired smile and turned to go in the house, but he stopped her. "One thing…when he deputized me, Sheriff Baker showed me the gun cabinet at the station. I need to go back for my stuff anyway, and I think…it would be a stupid risk to go unarmed. We have no idea what's out there, and we might need to protect ourselves."
It seemed like a speech he'd been planning, perhaps on the walk back, because he expected her to argue. But she didn't. "I don't really like guns, but I was going to ask about something like that. Or about searching their house for some. Do you know how to shoot?"
He wagged his hand back and forth. "Some. You?"
"Not handguns, but my Grandmère taught me to use a shotgun when I was a kid." She paused. "She always said a woman should know the most effective way to get rid of a troublesome husband."
It surprised a silent laugh out of him. "She did not."
"She absolutely did. The woman was a character. Anyway, I'm sure there's at least one shotgun in there, so I should be good."
"Okay, so, we have a plan?"
"We have a plan."
They'd had a plan, and it was a good plan, and for the first part of it everything went fine. They got cleaned up, had something to eat, raided the frankly mind-boggling stash of supplies in the basement, and loaded up Jane's car, a small SUV hybrid that still smelled new. They decided to leave that afternoon, since nightfall was still hours away, and so they headed for the station.
"Maybe there's still wifi there," she said. Service at the house had cut out sometime during the day—they weren't sure when, because they hadn't exactly been paying attention—and Kai wanted to set up Jane's phone with her info, to see if she had any missed texts or voicemails from anyone back home.
At the station Nick retrieved his backpack and they hit the gun cabinet. He belted a .45 onto his hip and felt like Doc Holiday. She chose a shotgun and several boxes of ammunition. He took everything out to the car while she worked on her phone, and when he came back in she was staring down at the little screen with a look of horror.
"What? Did it work? What's wrong?" he said.
She gave a slow shake of her head and thrust the phone at him so he could see for himself. He ignored the voicemails and went for the texts instead. There were probably a dozen from Sarah, a few from Remy, and several from numbers that weren't in her contacts. Sarah's grew increasingly desperate, first angrily demanding to know where Kai (she called her Edie) was, then begging her to answer.
"They shut down the restaurant that first day," Kai said.
He nodded and kept reading. It sounded like they shut down the entire goddamn town. Military blocking roads in and out. Communication cut off. Internet down, where you could get a wifi signal.
"How the hell did she get these texts through?"
"I don't know. Maybe they wanted her to, in the hopes it would get me back."
"Have you listened to the voicemail yet?" The texts ended abruptly the day Kai got into Shoyo, but there were two more recent voicemails from Sarah's number.
"I…" She closed her eyes. "Go ahead and play them. Put it on speaker."
He did as she said. She didn't open her eyes as she translated the first message. It was more of the same from the texts, asking where she was, begging her to respond, but then a change. Kai's head tilted and she gestured for him to rewind it.
"She's whispering," she said. "Don't answer and don't come back. I can barely hear her. Fuck, now she's coughing. Fuck! Play the next one."
She started to translate that one, too, but she stopped partway through. Finally, "She was sick," she said. "Hard to understand." She took the phone from him and tucked it into her pocket. Wiped the back of her hand across her cheek. "She was saying goodbye. That was so stupid! Why did I do that?! I knew they were all dead. I didn't need to hear it for myself!"
"Maybe you did," he said, gently. "It can be hard to accept things we don't see for ourselves. Now you know. For sure." It felt like a lame platitude, some sort of bullshit psychobabble about closure, but he didn't know what else to say. Maybe she should've left it alone. But some part of him thought that, in the long run, hearing her former wife's goodbye would be good for her.
She gave a brief, hitching nod. "Yeah. You're right, I just…"
"I know," he said when she didn't finish the thought. "I'm sorry, Kai. Really."
"I am too," she said. She pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers and scrunched her face. "Let's just—get on the road. I'm gonna go pee, and I'll meet you at the car."
"Sure, sounds good." He figured she might want to talk about it some more later, but for now she needed to put it aside. He watched her disappear down the hall, and that was why he wasn't looking at the front door when it opened. It was why he didn't see Ray Booth come staggering in, neck swollen and face contorted with rage.
It wasn't until a pair of beefy hands closed around his throat that Nick even knew he was in danger.
Kai couldn't get the hoarse, thick sound of Sarah's voice out of her head. She had apologized for everything, told Kai she forgave her for Remy. Told her she loved her and she always would.
She had believed Sarah was the love of her life when they got married, and feelings like that didn't just vanish, no matter how bad things got. And now Sarah was dead, and Kai supposed she was technically a widow. No divorce papers had been signed, after all. Widowed at age twenty-seven in the pandemic apocalypse. That wasn't something she'd ever imagined for herself.
She carefully propped the shotgun between the two sinks and sat down on the toilet. Her mind wandered, remembering good times with Sarah and the life they'd built together, and how it had all gone so fucking wrong. She was really getting into a good brood when a noise from outside caught her attention. It sounded like something heavy hitting the floor. Had Nick knocked something over?
That wasn't like him. The only time she'd ever seen him close to clumsy was last night, when he'd come stumbling in at the Bakers' exhausted half to death. Otherwise he moved carefully and gracefully, like someone accustomed to hiding in plain sight.
She finished up quickly and washed her hands, and only just remembered to grab the shotgun on her way out the door. She slung it across her back, and as the bathroom door swished shut behind her she heard the definite sounds of a struggle: deep, choking grunts and rhythmic thumps that might be something hitting the floor over and over. Like a kicking foot, or a skull.
Adrenaline shot through her and she surged toward the commotion, skidded around the corner and came to a halt as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing.
Nick was on the floor, and a huge man straddled his much thinner form. The guy was clearly sick, in the end stages of the flu, but somehow he had enough strength to strangle the shit out of Nick. He let go of his neck and wrapped his hands around Nick's face instead, and she watched in frozen horror as he screwed his thumb into Nick's eye.
Her brain clicked into gear again and she let out a wordless scream. "No!" she cried. "Get off of him, get off!"
She started toward them and then remembered the shotgun. She swung it around, flicked the safety off, and pointed it directly at the asshole's head. "Get off of him or I swear to God we will find out if you have a single fucking braincell in that thick skull of yours!"
That got his attention. He turned his head slowly on a neck grossly swollen, and the look in his eyes when he spotted her sent a jolt of pure terror through her.
She didn't give him a chance to reply, or to move, and instead squeezed the trigger.
The gunshot was deafening, a roar that seemed much louder than one shotgun could produce, and for a moment she was staggered. The guy's head exploded from the first shot, but she pumped another round into the chamber and fired into his chest just to make sure. Blood, bone, and brains flew everywhere, and without making a sound (not that either of them would have heard it), he slumped sideways to bleed all over the floor.
Nick thrashed and flailed, desperate to get the weight off of him, and as soon as she realized what was happening, Kai hurried to help. She kicked and shoved at the man's dead weight, and Nick managed to squirm away.
She set the shotgun on the floor and dropped down next to him. His eye was a mess, and he had both hands pressed to either side of his head as though he were trying to keep it from splitting in half.
"Who the fuck was that?" she signed, her hands shaking so badly and moving so fast he could barely understand her. "Are you—stupid question. Of course you're not okay. God, Nicky, your eye. We have to—we've got—" What?! What did they have to do? There weren't any doctors, there was no hospital.
"Ray Booth," he managed. "It was Ray fucking Booth. Kai, fuck, my eye, fuck!"
"I know," she said. She had to stay calm. He was on the verge of outright panic, and she could tell the pain was enormous. "I know, honey, I know. We've got—we've got to get you to Dr. Soames' office."
"Doc Soames is dead, Kai!"
"I know," she said again. "I know he is, but his office will still have supplies. Bandages and antibiotics. We've got to get that eye cleaned up or it's going to get infected."
His signs were sloppy and frantic, and tears streamed down his cheeks. "I'm gonna lose my eye I'm gonna have one eye fuck goddamn I need to see!"
"Hey!" She took his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. "I'm not going to lie to you. It looks bad. Really fucking bad. But he's dead, Nick. He can't hurt you again, and your other eye is fine. You're not going to be blind. You're not."
He nodded like his head was on a spring, then his face contorted with pain. "Fucking hurts!"
"Let's go," she said. "Come on, you just have to get to the car. Can you stand up?"
With her help he staggered to his feet, but when he tried to take a step he almost fell again. She wrapped an arm around his waist and let him lean on her shoulder. Together they stumbled to the car and she got him into it, then a few minutes later out again and into Soames' office. She had to bust out a window to get them in, and he leaned against the building like a drunkard while she did it.
They made it to an exam room and she sat him in a chair instead of trying to get him up onto the table. She gestured for him to stay put and went rummaging for supplies. A pair of gloves, bandages, tape, a little squeeze bottle with a pipette on the end. Some saline solution.
Back in the room she dropped the armload onto the counter and knelt in front of him. "Hey," she signed. "You still with me?"
He gave a slow nod.
"Good. I have to wash this out. I think it's going to hurt. Maybe a lot. I'll only need one hand, so you can squeeze the other as hard as you want, got it?"
"Do you know what you're doing?" His signs weren't entirely coherent, but she got the gist.
"Not…exactly. But. What are your options?" She held up the squeeze bottle of saline. "Do it yourself?"
He waved at her, then toward his face in a sort of have at it gesture.
"Good choice." She held out her left hand and he took it in his. With a long, fortifying breath, she began to spray the blood-slicked skin around his eye. She set the bottle on the counter and dabbed the wet areas with a bit of gauze.
She offered an encouraging smile. "Not too bad, right?"
He shook his head, but then pointed at the bad eye and twirled his finger.
"No, I haven't really gotten into it yet. Keep still, okay? And I think I'll need my other hand after all."
He let go with a brief smile that was more like a grimace. She carefully lifted his eyebrow. He clenched his jaw so hard the muscles danced and jumped. Finally she sprayed the water into the bloody, messy socket.
He grabbed her wrist and reared back like he'd been shocked. His face twisted into a rictus of pure agony and his breath came in rough, uneven gasps.
"I'm sorry! Fuck, I'm so sorry!"
He shook his head and loosened his hold on her. "Keep going," he signed.
"Are you sure? I can—"
He squeezed. "Please. Keep going."
"Okay." She didn't have any clue how much to spray. Till the blood was gone? It didn't really seem to be bleeding much. Should she try to put Neosporin on it? Surely that didn't go on your eyeball!
He touched her chin with light fingers. "I trust you, Kai."
That makes one of us, she thought. But she just nodded, bit down on her lip, and sprayed his eye again. His reaction wasn't as extreme this time, but only because he was more prepared for the pain. Finally she set the bottle aside and dabbed the water away.
"I have no idea if that's enough, but it looks a lot better."
"Better?" he signed with a frown.
"Cleaner, anyway." She cut some gauze to the proper size and taped it into place. "There, how's that?"
He sat very still for a moment. Then, "Pretty sure I need to throw up," he said.
"Oh! Okay! Right!"
She jumped to her feet, grabbed a basin, and thrust it against his chest. He caught it just in time.
"Okay," she murmured, even though she knew he couldn't hear her. "It's okay." She rubbed his back with one hand and held his hair with the other. It was as soft as it looked, and now was not the time to notice that.
Finally he slumped in the chair and let his head fall back. She took the basin from him and set it aside before wetting a paper towel and wiping his face.
"There was a Coke machine in the hall. It'll help settle your stomach."
A weary nod, and he closed his good eye as he leaned forward to rest his forehead in his palms.
Nothing in her entire life had felt as absurd as feeding a dollar into the fucking Coke machine at the office of a dead doctor. Probably she should've checked for a break room. The fridge might be stocked with drinks. It felt morbid digging through dead people's things, but she figured she should start getting used to it.
She stopped back in the room to drop off the drink, then went searching for pain meds. There was nothing besides sample packs of Advil and Tylenol. No antibiotics, either. What kind of doctor's office didn't entertain drug reps night and day?
Dr. Soames must not've been a prescription factory like so many doctors in so many small towns. He'd given Nick some pain pills after the beating, though. Maybe he still had some left. She paused for a moment in the drug closet and felt, suddenly, the weight of what had just happened.
Nick could have been killed. He could be lying on the station floor dead right the fuck now. As it was he'd probably lost an eye, and she'd killed a man. She'd done it to save Nick's life, but…goddamn if she wouldn't shoot him again if he were standing in front of her right now, unarmed and helpless.
"He deserved it," she whispered.
That's what you said last time, a little voice whispered back.
She swallowed the tears that threatened and gritted her teeth. "Yeah, I did," she said. "And I was right then, too." Her hand trembled as she reached for the doorknob. She paused. Gave it a good shake. And walked out of the closet, slamming the door behind her hard enough to make the pictures on the wall jump.
Back in the room Nick was slumped over and shivering, and when he raised his head his face was alarmingly pale, the pupil in his good eye huge.
"Oh, fuck," she said. She'd forgotten about shock. She held up both hands and gestured for him to stay, then ran for the car. They'd packed blankets in with the camping gear. She found one and hurried back.
"Okay, up here, quick," she said. He stumbled to the exam table and stretched out on it. She shoved one of the blankets under his feet and wrapped the other one around him. She rested a hand on his cheek; his skin was cool and clammy, which in this case was bad.
"I'm sorry," she signed. "I forgot about shock. I'm sorry."
He started to pull his arms from under the blanket, but she pushed them back down. "It's okay, don't say anything. You have to keep warm."
He gave a weak nod and closed his good eye. She brushed the dark curls back from his forehead and rubbed his arm. Soon the shivering subsided, and slowly the color began to return to his face. She let out a long sigh of relief and collapsed into the nearby chair.
She'd give him some time to rest, then they could head to Doc Soames' cabin. She wasn't sure she was up to driving right now anyway.
Several hours later she pulled up in front of a tidy little house with brown shaker shingles and red trim. Nick was asleep, slumped against the car door, and she gave him a shake. He woke slowly. Went to scrub his face and winced.
"We're here?" he signed.
"Seems so. Let's get you inside, and then I can take stock, see what we need to unload."
"I'm okay," he said. "I can walk. The drugs helped some with the pain."
"How's your stomach?"
He wagged his hand back and forth. "So-so. Don't think I'm gonna ralph again, though."
"Good," she said. "Come on, I'll make you some chamomile with honey, then we'll see if you feel like eating anything."
He managed a brief, tired smile. "Okay, mother hen. Whatever you say."
"You know chickens are omnivores? They're descendants of dinosaurs. Never underestimate a chicken."
His smile widened until the dimples appeared. "Noted."
She knew he was teasing her, but she didn't care. She cut the engine and stopped to wait for him to get out before heading to the door to unlock it. The key worked just fine, so clearly they had the right place. It was stuffy inside, hot and a bit dusty, and she let out a long breath. Tons of windows would turn this place into an oven during the day.
As though reading her mind, Nick tapped her shoulder and pointed. There was an AC unit mounted high on the wall, and she closed her eyes in relief.
"Thank God," she said.
"As long as the power's still on."
"If not we'll have to figure out the generator." She flipped the light switch and the overhead light and ceiling fan came on. They shared a relieved glance. It looked like the generator could wait.
The AC unit was powered by a remote control, they discovered, and after a bit of fiddling it was blowing cool air into the sweltering room.
"Have a seat," she said, tilting her head toward the couch. "I'll take a look around and let you know what we're dealing with."
He started to argue, but then he nodded and sank down onto the red and green plaid sofa. He was exhausted, in truth, and shaky as hell. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Ray Booth's red, bloated face above him. His neck throbbed and ached, and he could barely think for the pain in his eye. He was glad Kai hadn't tried to sugarcoat it earlier. He knew he was unlikely to see properly out of it again, and being told otherwise would have just made it even more frustrating.
He felt the air move around him and turned his head to watch Kai open the back door. The lake was just there across a small patch of grass, and he thought he saw a dock going out over the water. It was nearly eight, and the sun was going down, but he imagined during the height of the day the water would be mirror-bright under the clear blue sky.
She appeared a few moments later and perched on the coffee table in front of him.
"That didn't take long," he said.
"Not a very big place. One bedroom, one bathroom, and this common room. Kitchen over there. Nice pantry, well stocked, like Doc Soames said. I can make a run into the little town we passed through to see if there's anything cold still working, grab some meat before it goes bad, some dairy. I figure we should enjoy it while we can, because soon it'll be SPAM and evaporated milk for all."
He made a face and patted his stomach.
"Sorry, you're sensitive at the moment." She hesitated. Glanced toward what he guessed was the one bedroom. "About—sleeping arrangements…"
He waved a hand and pointed at himself, then the couch.
"You don't have to do that. You're hurt!"
He snorted. "What, can't stand to let the half-blind deaf mute sleep on the couch?"
"Can't stand to let the girl sleep on the couch?!" she said with a lifted brow.
"Nope," he signed, blithely. He stretched out, kicked off his shoes, and put his feet up. "Sorry, couch is claimed. Guess you're stuck with the bed."
She rolled her eyes. "You're a goddamn pain in my ass, Nick Andros."
He smiled and patted her knee. "I know."
Her expression as she looked at him turned rueful. She brushed a curl off his forehead and very lightly traced her fingers along the bruises around his neck. "So that was Ray Booth," she finally said.
"Yep. Nice guy." He touched her chin like he'd done back at Doc Soames' office, and she cut her eyes up to his. "I'm glad you killed him."
"Pretty sure it was the only way to stop him."
"It was. He was half dead from the flu and look at how much damage he did. You saved my life. Thank you."
"I just reacted. You would've done the same thing."
"I tried. Couldn't get my gun out of the goddamn holster. Some Wyatt Earp I am."
"Gunslinging's overrated anyway," she said.
He nodded agreement and settled back against the pillow. His good eye was half closed and he looked ready to pass out any minute. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was that she hadn't been quicker, that she hadn't shot Booth before he took out his eye, but she figured he knew that already. And she didn't want him to think it came from a place of pity. More guilt than anything. But her guilt didn't do either of them any good, so she tried to put it away and focus on moving forward—like she'd told him…when? God she had no idea.
Finally she said, "I'll go make you that tea, then unload some things from the car. Get some rest, and wave me down if you need anything."
He gave another sleepy nod, but then jerked awake. "Hey, wait—we forgot the pound."
She smiled. "No, I stopped on the way. You'd already passed out. It was empty, actually. I guess one of the employees or volunteers had let the animals go when they realized how things were going."
He gave her a thumbs-up, too tired to form coherent words, and she left him to sleep. She couldn't believe it wasn't even eight o'clock yet. She felt like she hadn't slept in weeks. Make Nick's tea. Unload the car. And then maybe a long soak in the clawfoot tub she'd spotted on her tour.
That sounded so nice she wanted to cry, but instead she scraped her hair back into a ponytail, made sure Nick was comfortable on the sofa, and got down to work.
Chapter 8: Coyotes
Summary:
Nick's injuries are worse than they thought, and Kai takes a harrowing trip into town after dark.
Notes:
Couple of things to be wary of in this chapter: 1) wound care. proceed with caution if that sorta thing makes you squeamish; and 2) dead people.
Also I got tired of trying to figure out what kind of books a pharmacy might have so there's that. I even have a friend who's a pharmacist, but did I ask her? Guess.
I love reviews, y'all! I'd love to read some someday. :)
Chapter Text
now for me some words come easy
but i know that they don't mean that much
compared with the things that are said when lovers touch
Jackson Browne, "Late for the Sky"
June 26 - Doc Soames' cabin, somewhere in AR
Kai slept till nearly eight the next morning, which was late for her—though she'd been trying to adapt her circadian rhythms to Nick's, because who wanted to be up at four AM breaking camp or whatever? But it would be an easier task without the nightmares. Last night she'd fallen into bed a little after eleven and dreamt what felt like the entire night about coyotes. Coyotes in the corn, coyotes surrounding the cabin, coyotes stalking Nick as he worked away, oblivious. She tried to call his name, but for some reason in this dream he couldn't hear her, and she could only watch as the coyote pounced, and Nick was dragged to the ground under its mangy body.
She awoke from that one shivering and dragged herself out of bed and into the bathroom. She could make bread today; there were packets of dry yeast and everything. Maybe Dr. Soames and his wife had been doomsday preppers like Sheriff Baker. Prepper light.
Nick was sound asleep on the couch, but she woke him and sent him to the bedroom. While her noise wouldn't disturb him, everything else would, and he needed to rest. He stumbled that way in a daze with a wave of thanks, and the door shut behind him.
Around lunchtime she woke him with some fresh baked bread slathered with honey, and he ate it like a starving man.
"How's the pain?" she signed as she perched on the edge of the bed and drew her feet up to sit cross-legged.
He hitched a shoulder and held up four fingers. Then flashed them again.
"Eight? That doesn't sound good. You still have plenty of those pills?"
He gave a quick nod and licked honey off his fingers. "I just took a couple. I hate how much they make me sleep."
"Sleep is good. Restorative."
"Yeah, but—" He broke off with a shake of his head and stared down at his empty plate, expression pensive and haunted.
"The nightmares." She blew out a rueful breath. "Me too. Coyotes?"
He nodded. "And him. Not in person, but his presence. I miss Mother Abagail. You don't think something's happened to her, do you?"
"No!" she signed quickly. Then, more thoughtfully, "No, I don't think so. We'd know. I think—he's trying to scare us. Keep us away from her. Divide and conquer."
He thought that over for a bit, but she could tell that the pain meds were starting to kick in. At last he pointed at her, then at himself, then crossed his fingers.
She tilted her head. "We have to stick together."
He nodded. "Coyotes run in packs. So do we."
"Teamwork makes the dream work," she said with a smirk.
He grimaced and pointed sternly at her, then at the door.
"You brought that on yourself," she said, still grinning. "But I'll go and let you sleep. You know where I am if you need anything." She slid off the bed, but as she started away he lightly grabbed her wrist to stop her. She glanced back at him in surprise.
"Still the best bread I ever had," he signed. He made the gesture big, arms wide, to show her just how best he thought it.
Her mouth quirked again, a brief half-smile. "I know," she said. She twisted enough to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Get some rest, Andros. May your dreams be sweet like honey."
"Sweet like you," he said with a drunken grin. He wouldn't have dared it if not for the drugs, and he wasn't even sure what it meant, because Kai d'Arnaud was a whole lot of things, but sweet definitely wasn't the first word that sprung to mind.
"Thought you were trying to avoid nightmares," she said. She poked the center of his chest to gently push him back against the pillows. He tipped like a Weeble, and once she was satisfied that he was more or less horizontal, she turned to go again.
This time she stopped in the doorway and looked back with a thoughtful furrow to her brow. His eyes were closed, so he didn't see the way she studied him, or how she touched her fingers lightly to her lips like she still felt the warmth of his skin there. She gave a quick shake of her head at the ridiculous direction her thoughts had wandered and left him to sleep.
He appeared in the kitchen a few hours later when she was adding frozen vegetables to the soup she was making. She shot him a smile and a wave, and he pointed at the stove and rubbed his stomach.
"Smells good," he signed.
"Beef stew. I'm using what we brought in the cooler from the Bakers'. I thought maybe tomorrow you'd feel like going to town with me, so I wouldn't have to go alone." She eyed him. He looked pale under his naturally tan skin, and shaky on his pins. "You can stay in the car."
He nodded, but when he tried to step closer he wobbled and almost fell. She reached out and grabbed his waist to steady him.
"Whoa, hey, what's wrong?"
He closed his eye a moment, and when he opened it again a tear hung suspended on his long dark lashes.
"Nick?"
"I think I fucked up," he said. He took her by the upper arms and gently moved her a step or two away, then held up both hands for her to wait. Slowly he reached for the button on his trousers. Undid it and the zipper, and let them fall to his knees. He twisted a little and pointed down, at his thigh, and as her confused gaze followed his finger she let out a ragged, horrified gasp.
"Oh fuck," she breathed, then signed it.
He nodded dismally. On his leg was a six-inch long furrow that stretched from the hem of his boxer briefs almost to his knee. Blood was crusted around it, and the skin was tight and shiny and red. Small streaks of crimson, like tendrils of poison, moved out from the wound in a frightening corona.
"I think when I was trying to pull my gun I shot myself. Can you believe it? How fucking stupid. I didn't even realized it hurt, because of the pain in my eye, and I guess I didn't notice it yesterday. I went to pee just now and when I dropped my pants the cloth hit it and it hurt like a motherfucker."
She swallowed around a throat gone thick. "That must've been—when I shot him—the shotgun seemed—really fucking loud. Louder than—just one shotgun. We must've fired—at the same time." Her signs were jerky and disjointed, and she couldn't look away from his leg. Clearly it had to be cleaned. He had to have antibiotics. Those streaks meant blood poisoning, and if the bullet had somehow lodged in there…
"Okay," she said. She took a deep breath and looked up into his frightened face. "It's going to be okay. We'll get it cleaned up, and I'll make that run into town and get you some antibiotics and you'll be fine." She spun in a slow circle to study the room, then waved him toward the kitchen island. "Let me clean it first, then you can get up there. Lots of light, and a good height. I need supplies."
She took off before he could say anything, and he hobbled to the island to wait for her. His leg was badly infected, he knew that much, and he thought he might be running a fever from it. He could read on her face how bad it looked, and how scared she was, but he'd also spent the last several days learning how incredibly competent she was when it seemed like shit was about to hit the fan. Of all the people to be stuck with during the apocalypse with a raging infection, he'd choose her.
She reappeared from the bathroom and dumped what she'd scrounged onto the kitchen counter. There was a large first aid kit and what looked like a medical bag, in addition to a stack of towels and some cleaning supplies.
"My wife was a doctor," she said. "I guess I never mentioned that. We met when I was in culinary school and she was finishing her residency in New York. A pan fell off a high shelf onto my head, and I had to go to the ER. She was my doctor."
She sprayed down the island with bleach-laced cleaner and let it sit.
"Then I went back a few weeks later because I burned myself on a hot pan. By my third visit, this time from a cut, we were starting to become friends. I accidentally ran into her later that night and our first date was pie at an all night diner."
His mouth quirked at one corner. "Are you really that accident prone, or was it on purpose to cozy up to the cute doctor?"
She shrugged and wiped the counter with a paper towel. "I used to be. I was always…rushing. Like I thought being fast meant being better. Since then I've learned to take my time."
"That's good," he said. "I like to take my time too." He paused. Frowned. "I've never actually shot myself before."
"I didn't think so. You've always struck me as a very steady individual." She turned away to open the medical bag and began sorting through the contents. "Oh, there's lots of good shit in here. A suture kit, though I hope to hell we won't need that. Gloves. Masks."
Finally she turned to him again with a reassuring smile. "I'll put some towels down so you aren't on the cold counter. Can you get up by yourself, or…?"
"I think I can make it," he said, dryly.
"Okay then, touchy." She spread out a few towels, and grabbed a pillow from the couch for his head. As he'd said, he was able to hop up with no problems, and she stopped him before he could lie down.
"Let me look at it first, so we know what…needs to be done." She put on a mask and a pair of gloves, and leaned in close. She could feel the heat radiating off his skin now; how had she not noticed it earlier when she'd kept him from falling? Too worried about gravity, she supposed.
The whole area was swollen, so it was hard to tell what was what, but at the end there seemed to be a decided bulge. The bullet, maybe. If it stayed in there it could turn septic, and that would most certainly kill him in their current situation.
Not an option worth considering.
She looked up at him, brilliant eyes steady above the mask. "This is going to hurt," she signed.
He nodded. "I know. I'm ready."
She took a deep breath and rested her fingers lightly on either side of the lump. Squeezed. He hissed through his teeth, but when she flicked her eyes up to check on him, he just nodded for her to continue. She pressed harder. Something was definitely moving under there, but she wasn't going to be able to just squeeze it out like a splinter. There was too much swelling.
"Okay," she said. She stepped back and stripped off the gloves and mask. "I think that's the bullet."
He let out a shaking breath. He was looking a little green around the gills again; she passed him a large mixing bowl just in case. "It's got to come out, right?" he said. "It'll go septic if it stays."
"Exactly what I was thinking." She turned away to check the medical bag again, though she knew what was in it. "Doc Soames has a scalpel in here," she signed. She pulled a glass vial from the bag. "And this, I'm pretty sure, is local anesthetic."
"You're pretty sure? How sure is that?" He looked remarkably calm, all things considered, and she appreciated that about him.
She read the label again and chewed on her lower lip. "Like, ninety-eight percent. More, really, but I want to build in a margin for error."
"Kai. I mean this as kindly as possible. But I don't think there is margin for error here!" The calm facade cracked a bit, and she couldn't really blame him. He had a baker, not a surgeon, and for the second time in as many days he was putting his life in her hands.
"It is. An anesthetic. It's part of the suture kit, so what else would it be? I'll inject a bit in around the area, then cut the bullet free. It's right there near the surface; I'll just be cutting skin. No muscle or anything like that."
"And then you'll clean it."
"Yes. With hydrogen peroxide and saline."
He gave a slow nod. "Do you think it needs stitches?"
"I guess we'll see how removing the bullet goes."
Their eyes met. His was fever-bright, but hers were steady. That same steel he'd seen yesterday, even when she'd seemed on the verge of panic. She'd hacked her hair off in the bathroom but then pulled herself together to help with Jane. She'd shot Ray Booth to save his life when he'd only managed to shoot himself. Then she'd cleaned up his eye and gotten them both safely here, while also remembering to stop to check on the dogs and cats at the pound.
"You're a steely-eyed missile man," he said. He poked her in the sternum. "Heard that in a movie once."
"Apollo 13."
"No, not that one. Never saw it."
She frowned. Thought about it. "The Martian?"
"That's it!" He pointed at her. "Potatoes on Mars."
She gave a brief nod. "You better fucking believe it. Now lie down on your side, bum leg up. I'm going to limit the local to around where I'll be cutting. If you can feel it once I start, tell me and I'll add some more."
He did as he was told while she replaced the mask and gloves. She filled the syringe and added little dots of anesthetic, just like she'd seen on Dr. Pimple Popper—which, all things considered, was maybe not her best medical reference in this situation, but surely had to be better than Grey's Anatomy. At least it wasn't fiction.
She kept at it until she poked the spot with the needle and he gave her a thumbs up. Her first small cut, across the top of the bump, produced blood and enough pus to gross them both out.
"That has to be good, though," she signed one-handed. "Better to get it out."
He gave another thumbs up, this one sort of shaky, and offered a weak smile.
She used a thin pair of forceps to dig the bullet out, and as she'd guessed, it was close to the surface. She could tell at one point she was hurting him, but he stayed still and stoic until she pulled the little plug of metal free.
"Got it!" She dropped it into a bowl and swapped the surgical tools for the squeeze bottle and gauze.
Cleaning the wound took longer, and she had to stop several times for him to catch his breath. It hurt, a lot, and she could hear his teeth grinding as she worked. Finally she had it cleaned to her satisfaction, though it looked red and raw and jagged, like an ugly grin filled with picket teeth.
She applied a bandage, then wrapped gauze around his entire thigh to hold it in place. Finally she helped him sit up, and once she'd washed the bit of bullet, handed him the bowl.
"There it is," she said. "Little fucker."
He poked it with one finger and his face moved in a rueful grimace. "Can't believe something this small might kill me."
"Hey." She jabbed him in the shoulder to make sure she had his full attention. "Fuck that shit. Do you think I'd let you die? It's a stupid infection. You'll be fine."
His mouth quirked on one side. "Yeah?"
"Yes. I promise."
He looked at her then, and a thousand things he wanted to say flashed through his mind, but somehow even in his pain-addled, fever-dazed state he managed to keep them in. You're so kind and beautiful and tough and ferocious and whatever your secret is you can tell me because I trust you. I trust you past the end of the world, because here we are standing at the edge of it, and you're the person I'm taking with me into whatever's beyond that. Not because you're the only other person here, but because you're you, and when the map says Here There Be Monsters, I know you'll fight them all, and I wanna be the one to fight them with you.
"I believe you," he said, and that was all.
Kai had hoped her run to town could wait till morning, but as afternoon turned into evening his fever spiked despite the Tylenol, and he couldn't hold anything down. He was tucked into bed, stripped down to his shorts, and whenever she left and came back he'd kicked the covers off and was shivering again.
"It can wait," he signed, shaking with chills, when she told him her plans.
"Clearly it can't. I have to get you antibiotics and something more hydrating than just water. I'm not letting you die because I was afraid of the dark."
Not the dark, he thought, but what might lurk in it. And it's a real fear. But he only gave a weary nod and told her to be careful.
"I will," she said. "I won't be gone long. Try to stay in bed if you can, because I don't want you falling and smacking your head. Drink something, too. And—don't worry. I'll be fine."
He managed a weak smile and a thumbs up. "Take the shotgun."
"Planning on it." She hesitated. She didn't want to leave him, and not just because it was getting dark. Finally she rested a hand on his cheek and bent to kiss his burning forehead. "Get some rest. I'll be back soon," she signed with one hand.
He grabbed her hand before she could pull away and pressed his lips to the center of her palm. It seemed like he wanted to say something else, but he only held on a moment or two before he released her with another smile and a little wave.
She closed the bedroom door behind her and stopped at the front door to check the shotgun. She'd cleaned it since the encounter with Booth yesterday, and it was loaded. She pocketed some more ammo, slung the gun over her shoulder, and headed to the car.
The town was about twenty minutes away, smaller than Shoyo but still big enough to have all the basics. The drive there was uneventful: street lights popped on as it got darker, all the traffic lights still worked, and while most homes were dark, stores were lit up like they'd been before everything went to hell.
Her first stop was a clothing store. There was a washer and dryer at the cabin, but neither of them had a lot of clothes and she didn't want to be doing laundry all day. Plus he needed something more comfortable than his usual trousers while his leg healed. She grabbed basics for both of them: socks, underwear, t-shirts; and then sweatpants for him and jeans and shorts for her. She had to guess on some of his sizes, but as long as the pants weren't too short she thought it would be okay. They could come back when he was feeling better to get him more actual wardrobe staples.
Next she hit a grocery store, and luckily it was empty of both customers and employees. She got baking supplies, a variety of broth, and lots of Jell-O. She debated getting perishables, but she knew they wouldn't last much longer, and she could freeze any meat she bought for once Nick could eat again. He'd need the protein to regain his strength.
It was eerie in the silent parking lot as she unloaded her cart into the back of the SUV. The light above her head buzzed. An errant breeze scattered a pile of trash across the asphalt. There were a few cars parked here and there, but she avoided looking inside them. Either they were empty or they were rolling coffins; she didn't need to know which.
The pharmacy was her last stop, and the one she'd been dreading. Of all places to find full of corpses, a drug store during a flu outbreak seemed like a good bet.
She sat in the car outside the store making a list of what she needed so she could get in and out as quickly as possible: Pedialyte or something like it, Tylenol, gauze and bandages, saline, and, most importantly, antibiotics. She hoped there would be some kind of pharmacists' guide behind the counter so she could look up the best ones to get. She also hoped they weren't all gone, because while most people knew the flu was a virus that couldn't be treated by antibiotics, there were some out there who still clung to the old idea of antibiotics equal cure-all.
She locked the car on her way into the store and pocketed the keys. The shotgun hung over one shoulder, and she rested her fingers on it. Just in case.
Inside the store it was as quiet as everywhere else, except for the same buzzing lights and the soft whoosh of the AC. An employee lay slumped across a checkout counter. Someone was sprawled out in the cold medicine aisle. Bodies littered the area leading to the pharmacy counter.
She paused and pressed a hand to her nose. The smell wasn't too horrible, probably thanks to the air conditioning, but it wasn't going to be like tiptoeing through the tulips, either. She tried to breathe through her mouth, and keep it shallow, but as she navigated the obstacle course of sprawled limbs, grasping hands, and bloated faces, she felt her heart rate kick up and her breathing deepen.
"They're dead," she whispered. "They can't hurt you. They're dead." That mantra kept her going until she reached the pharmacy proper. She had to boost herself over the counter, and she only saw the dead pharmacist as she dropped to the other side.
"Fuck!" she cried. She twisted to avoid landing on the body and instead her ass smacked the linoleum hard enough to make her teeth clamp together. Luckily she didn't bite her tongue, but she was sure there'd be a bruised tailbone in her future.
But she hadn't landed on him, and at the moment that was all she cared about.
She sat on the floor, eyes fixed on the corpse, as she struggled to regain her breath. Finally she pushed to her feet and wiped her hands on her jeans.
"Sorry for almost smushing you. Next time say something, okay?" She frowned. "Or, actually, please don't. That probably would've been worse."
Keep it together, d'Arnaud, she told herself. Focus.
She cast around for something other than a computer—they required login codes she obviously didn't have—and finally found a thick tome under the sign Orange Book goes HERE. Okay, she'd make sure to put it back.
Except it wasn't super helpful, because it just was a giant list of drugs. She rolled her eyes. Surely she'd taken enough antibiotics over the course of her life to figure this out. As long as Nick wasn't allergic. Why the fuck hadn't she asked him about that?
She flipped the book shut and went for the shelves of medication. It didn't take long to find amoxicillin, and after thinking it over, she grabbed the entire bottle. Obviously he wouldn't take this much, but it never hurt to have a supply for the future. There were plenty of other bottles left on the shelf if anyone came along after her. She also pocketed a thick stack of Z-Paks, because that was what Sarah had prescribed for Kai's second and third ER trips, the burn and the cut. They could start with this, and then switch to the other if it wasn't working.
She climbed back over the counter and started to work her way through the store collecting the other items on her list. First she grabbed a basket and tossed in several candy bars and packs of gum and mints. On the pain killer aisle there was a body slumped directly in front of what she needed, and she stood for a moment, undecided. They had Tylenol…just not a big bottle. She wanted to make sure there was plenty, in case Nick's fever lasted a while.
Finally she shuffled closer. Swallowed around the lump in her throat. And reached toward the bottle she needed. The smell this close was nauseating, and she realized that what she'd thought was the buzzing of fluorescents was actually flies. So goddamn many flies.
She jerked back, knocking into the shelf as she did, and the corpse slid toward her. Maggots crawled where its eyes should be, and what remained of its face was frozen in a rictus of pain and horror.
Kai let out a little cry and skipped away, barely avoiding the body's slow drag to the floor. A cloud of flies rose and some kind of fluid created a puddle on the linoleum.
"I'm sorry!" she gasped. "I'm so sorry!"
She sprinted from the aisle and grabbed the rest of what she needed at record speed. Luckily the other aisles were empty, but over the sound of her own panting she could still hear those goddamn flies, buzz buzz, and she thought, maybe, something else. A scuttling. Of small animals, probably, but her overwrought brain imagined those blackened fingers clawing at the floor, clawing and scratching and crawling.
There was something in here with her, she could feel it. Hiding in the dark. Watching her. It laughed and cavorted and oozed from the shadows with a sentient malevolence. She had to get the fuck out of here, she had to get out before it found her, before it touched her, because if it touched her that would be it she would lose her mind and Nick would die and—!
She burst out onto the sidewalk and ran for the car. The door wouldn't open, why the fuck wouldn't it open?!
It was locked. She fumbled in her pocket for the keys and managed to hit the button despite nearly swooning from fear. She could taste it in the back of her throat, an acrid burn that tried to choke her.
She threw the basket and the shotgun into the passenger seat, locked the doors, and hit the ignition button. The hybrid's electric engine always started first, and it was so quiet that for a second she thought it wouldn't start at all, but then the gas engine rumbled to life and she sobbed in relief. She clamped shaking hands around the wheel and tried to breathe.
Her reflection stared back at her from the rearview mirror, wild-eyed and pale. She rubbed the tears off her cheeks, and it was as she reached to adjust the mirror she noticed it staring back at her from across the parking lot.
She twisted in the seat to look over her shoulder, and sure enough. A fucking coyote. Just one. Its golden eyes reflected the streetlight and its gaze was too knowing, too sentient.
The coyotes are his.
She didn't need to stick around for an interview. Throwing the car into gear, she backed out of the parking place and streaked out of the lot. She needed to get back to Nick. They were more vulnerable separated, and he was sick and weak.
As she drove the night seemed to fold itself around her. A fog rolled in off the lake and she had to slow down to a creep on the narrow, unfamiliar roads. The streetlights that had guided her into town seemed to have gone out, and the only illumination came from her own headlights.
"Fuck!" she cried and slammed on the brakes. The basket of drug store stuff slid off the seat and into the floorboard. She grabbed the shotgun to keep it steady and squinted out into the fog where a lone coyote stood in the middle of the road, staring at her like he'd been there waiting just for her.
As she watched several others trotted out of the mist to form a little semi-circle around the original one. The stood silent as ghosts, and Kai shivered. Weren't coyotes known to be loud? They "talked" to each other as they hunted, she thought. So did that mean they weren't hunting now? Just…watching?
They would be kind of cute if they weren't so fucking creepy. She rested her hand on the shotgun, but she knew she could never shoot them. They looked too much like dogs.
The coyotes are his.
"I know! I know that. Doesn't mean I have to kill them, does it?!" She tapped the horn and they didn't move. She leaned on it, a long blast, and a couple of them jumped a little, but none of them ran away. The lead one just blinked, long and slow.
"I'm sorry," she said with a scowl, "am I boring you, Wile E?"
She grabbed the shotgun and shoved the door open. Stepped out onto the road and aimed the gun at the leader. "Go on!" she said. "Get! I know who sent you, and I'm not afraid of him."
None of them moved.
"Goddammit." She aimed the gun into the air and squeezed the trigger. The blast was deafening in the close night, and a few of the coyotes scattered. The leader cocked its head like it was curious—or amused.
She strode closer. "I am not your road runner, asshole. Get the fuck out of my way. I'm not afraid of you!" she cried. "Do you hear me!? I'm not afraid of you!"
She trained the gun on it again and wondered if she could shoot it after all.
The coyote stood a few moments longer until it finally gave a little chuff. It turned slowly and sauntered off, the others falling in behind it. She didn't move until she heard them in the underbrush along the road, and then she hurried back to the car.
If anything else got in her way she was just going to run the fuck over it, because she had a fear all of this was just a distraction. Delaying tactics to keep her away from the cabin and away from Nick.
Nick was who mattered. He was the important one, the good one, the one with a purpose.
Kai was just the bitch with the gun watching his back. And she wasn't about to let him down.
Chapter 9: Temptation
Summary:
Nick and Kai both face off against Flagg for the first time.
Notes:
You'll see what I mean in this chapter about Flagg being a combo of Alexander Skarsgard and Jamey Sheridan: Kai sees him one way, and Nick sees him the other. Hence the disparity in their physical descriptions.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
temporary is my time
ain't nothin on this world that's mine
except the will i've found to carry on
The Avett Brothers, "Ill With Want"
June 29
Three days later and she was beginning to despair. His fever raged no matter how much Tylenol she gave him. He was dehydrated, unable to eat and barely able to drink. His eye was healing well, but his leg was still red and inflamed. She kept cleaning it with saline, but it didn't seem to be helping.
Yesterday morning she'd nearly wept when, on a rare break, she'd wandered out into the overgrown yard and almost tripped over a patch of yarrow flowers. A quick (very quick) trip into town during daylight hours and she found calendula at the garden center of a home improvement store. It wasn't the right time of year for goldenrod, and besides that she was allergic to it, so these would have to do.
Back at the cabin she'd combined the plants with honey to make a paste and carefully spread it on a bandage, like butter on toast. She hummed as she did it, an old healing song she remembered from her Grandmère. It wasn't that she believed in witchcraft or spells, but she did believe in her grandmother's results. And a healing song couldn't hurt.
She applied the poultice around midday. His good eye opened as she worked, but she couldn't tell if he saw her or not. Or if he did, whether he recognized her. She smiled and brushed his hair back from his forehead. Still burning. She'd sponge him down later, as they'd both done so often for Jane Baker in her last hours.
Except, of course, these were not Nick's last hours. She'd promised him he wouldn't die, and she never broke her promises. "You're going to be fine," she signed.
"Feel like shit," he signed back, weakly.
"I know. Do you think you can drink something?"
The words seemed to take a long time to penetrate the fog around his brain, but at last he gave a slow nod. She finished with the bandage and hurried back to the kitchen to warm some broth and grab a Pedialyte from the fridge.
He was asleep when she got back, so she set the mug and the bottle on the nightstand and crawled into bed next to him. She'd been sleeping in here because she didn't want to leave him alone. Sleeping was a relative term, because his restlessness kept her up. Mostly she read and wished she'd asked Sarah more questions about medicine.
When he stirred again a few hours later she was ready. She got some more fever medicine down his throat, plus almost half a mug of chicken broth.
"Can't," he signed. "No more."
"Are you sure?"
He nodded and pushed the mug away. She sighed and put it back on the bedside table. Then, just like that, he was gone again. Passed out, fever spiking, mouth open in a silent cry of agony.
She bathed him in cool water and hummed her Grandmère's song. Propped him in the chair while she changed the sweat-soaked sheets, then wrestled him back into bed. Helped him to the bathroom and held his hair while he wretched up the feeble bit of broth.
The sun went down and the room filled with shadows. She passed through the cabin to make sure the doors and windows were locked (something she did every night now, since the coyotes on the road) and switched on a few lamps as she went by.
Somehow she remembered to eat, a peanut butter sandwich with the last of her bread and a can of vegetable soup. A weird combo, but none of it tasted like anything anyway. She just needed the calories to keep going.
She had no tears. Not anymore. They were useless, a waste of time and energy. She replaced his bandage with a fresh one, and it seemed maybe, maybe the wound looked a little less red. Calmer. She added her honey poultice to the new bandage and murmured the song. He didn't wake this time. She pressed the cloth to his forehead and closed her eyes. Her chin fell to her chest and she trembled.
"You're not going to die," she signed. "I'm not going to let you."
Outside she heard the call of an owl amidst the cry of summertime insects. "Please," she said, "God or whoever might be listening, help me. I made a promise. Please."
Feeling almost feverish herself with pure exhaustion, she rounded the bed and collapsed next to him. Suddenly, like sinking into water, she fell into a deep, restless sleep.
She dreamt again, as always, of the cornfield. Searching for Nick. Always fucking searching. This time his voice was faint and weak; the crows' raucous cries were far louder. She tried to see over the corn, but of course it was too tall.
The sky above rumbled its ominous warning and she felt like sobbing with frustration.
A crow flew overhead. She followed its path with her eyes, even jumped to see above the corn, and in the near distance she saw an entire murder of them circling something, like vultures. Another leap and another glimpse: now and then one would separate from the group and dive.
"Fuck," she breathed. "Oh fuck!" She shoved her way through the corn now, heedless of the leaves' razor-sharp edges. She felt their sting, but it seemed far away, and even the warm trickles of blood that started down her arms and legs were as nothing to her.
Finally she burst through the last row between herself and whatever held the crows so fascinated. It was, as she'd feared, Nick: his long, lean form sprawled on the ground, sick and feverish. Crows swooped and dove; a few of them landed on him; and rats inched in ever closer from the corn.
"Go!" she cried, rushing toward him. "Get! He's not dead! Fuck off!" She waved her arms at the birds and kicked her feet at the rats. "You can't have him! You can't!"
Once they were finally gone—the rats sullenly, like stubborn old men—she dropped down beside Nick and patted across his chest. Wiped the blood from rats' nasty teeth and crows' vicious beaks off his arms and face. He was breathing, and his skin was so hot she was surprised the corn he was lying on didn't start popping.
She tugged his upper half into her lap, cradling his head in her arms and stroking his face. "You're not going to die," she said, low and fierce. "Do you understand me?! I told you that when you were awake, but your eyes weren't open. But I know you can hear me here, and you are not going to die! I always keep my promises, Nick. Always."
His good eyelid fluttered, but otherwise he didn't move. She let out a soul-deep groan of fury and glared up at the sky. The sun was there, big and bright and merciless, even as clouds crept closer.
"You chose him!" she screamed at it. "Didn't you!? Isn't that what Mother Abagail meant?! You chose us both! What's this survival of the fittest bullshit?! You fucking chose him and you're not going to let him die now!"
Silence, and the distant call of birds, was her only answer. Her chin dropped to her chest and she didn't bother to wipe away the tears that ran down her cheeks and dripped onto his forehead.
"Please," she whispered. "Please, don't let him die. He's the good one here. He's the one who deserves it. Not me. Not me."
The day around her darkened, the temperature noticeably chilled, and in her arms Nick shivered. She held him tighter and ignored the rippling sound of someone or something approaching through the corn. Darkness and fear and the force of her fury somehow made flesh.
"Well!" a voice said. He chuckled. "Look what we have here. A real-life Pietà. How sweet."
She squeezed her eyes shut. "Go away," she said. "We don't need you here."
"Don't you?" he said, voice filled with pity that stung like thorns.
She watched dusty, worn down cowboy boots approach before they stopped and the speaker knelt beside them. Reluctantly, like her neck was on rusted hinges, she raised her head to look at him. Then blinked.
He looked—normal. Blond, blue-eyed, hair a little too long and beard a little too scruffy, but otherwise…like just some guy. Some random guy who'd make a pass at you in a bar or who would come into the restaurant for supper and bitch about the French menu.
"What?" he said. "You were expecting the boogie man?" He gave an easy shrug full of lazy bonhomie. "I'm just a guy, Eden. Or—you go by Edie, right?" He tilted his head back and forth as though thinking it over. "Maybe I'll stick with Eden. Brings back some fond memories." He winked at her and pushed himself upright.
"Anyway, from where I'm standing, you really could use somebody's help." He raised his arms and turned in a slow circle. "Hello!?" he called. "Anyone out there? Hey! Dying man here! Hellooo!"
His face scrunched in sympathy and he knelt again. "Nothin', kiddo. Deafening silence." Another brief shrug. "That's just how He operates. Not like me. I'm a man of the people. Really like to get down among the hoi polloi. That's the—"
"I know what the hoi polloi are," she said through gritted teeth. "I'm not interested in your sales pitch, either."
"Come on, you haven't even heard it yet! It's a good one, Edie. One of my best, and it's a limited-time offer."
She glared at him, but his grin only widened.
"You gotta ditch the dummy, kid," he said. "He's not long for this world and you've got miles to go before you sleep."
"Do not call him that!" she snarled.
"Okay, okay." He lifted his hands in a placating gesture. "Insensitive of me, I apologize. Edie, listen." He lowered his hand and when his fingers spread there was a black stone cradled in his palm. Somewhere in its depths a red spark glistened, like a winking eye. Somehow the fire trapped inside it just made the whole thing seem colder and more awful, and she looked away.
"I don't make offers like this to just anyone, Edie," he said. His voice turned low, intimate, like a croon. She shut her eyes and rested her cheek on Nick's burning forehead. "Ditch your friend here and come with me. I'll make you a queen over a new Eden, a true Eden. You'll be free. Isn't that what you've always wanted?"
"A queen," she said, without opening her eyes or lifting her head. "Whose queen? Yours?"
He made a low, regretful noise. "Alas, no. I already have my queen. You're…ah…not suitable for that position. Not quite Liz the First if you get my drift."
Now she did look at him, an incredulous glare. "You mean because I'm not a virgin?!"
"I'm old-fashioned that way," he said.
She rolled her eyes. "Just fuck off, whoever the fuck you are. I'm not letting Nick die, no matter what you're offering."
He sighed and stood again. "I've been rude, Edie, and you're right to call me on it. I never actually introduced myself."
"Let me guess," she said, sweetly. "You're a man of wealth and taste."
He threw back his head and laughed long and loud. She shuddered at the sound. "I do like you, kiddo! Taste, yes; wealth, nah. Man of the people, remember?"
He knelt again, and he was beginning to remind her of a jack-in-the-box. "Name's Flagg. Randall Flagg. That's two L's and two G's, and a whole lotta soul."
"Do you find that this schtick usually works on people?"
"What can I say? I like the soft sell. Look, in that spirit, I'm prepared to negotiate. You're attached to this kid; I get it. We all get attached sometimes. Take me, for example. People keep telling me you're one of hers, but I say no, no. Not my Eden." He leaned in closer; lowered his voice to a whisper. "Not you, Edie. You're mine. And you know exactly why."
He sat back. "Not just you, though! Trashcan Man. Too unstable. Just kill him and get it over with." He waved a dismissive hand. "But I hate waste, don't you? So few humans left on this planet, it seems a shame to burn the ones who could be loyal and devoted and useful."
"I literally have no idea what you're talking about."
"Of course you do, my dear. At least the part about you. But we'll play the innocent game if you want. Now, as for my offer: the kid here doesn't die. Doesn't even lose his eye. Not only that! I'll give him what he never had: ears to hear and a voice to speak. All you have to do is walk away." He held out the stone again. "Come with me, be a queen over a new world, and forget the old woman. Forget the deaf-mute. He won't even be a deaf-mute anymore! He won't need you, and neither will she.
"It doesn't have to be this way, Edie," he said, soft and coaxing. "It doesn't have to be such a struggle. You don't have to be afraid anymore, or worried. Just say yes, worship me, and rule."
Nick stirred in her arms and made a quiet sound of distress. His face was scrunched with effort, and as she watched, his good eye opened to pin her with a long, steady glare. It still burned fever-bright, but she knew what she saw there, and it gave her the strength she needed to do what she did next.
She raised her head to meet Flagg's vivid blue eyes. "I don't want any deals," she said. "Nick doesn't want any deals. We don't want you."
"It's not about him, Edie. He's just baggage."
"Fuck off!" she screamed directly into his face. "Go away! Take your crows and your idiotic thunder and your fucking rats and fuck the fuck off! Oh, and enough with the goddamn coyotes. Your point has been made!"
He gave a sorrowful shake of his head and rose to his feet on a long, long sigh. She swallowed back her fear and let her eyes move up, up, up to his face towering high above her. The sky was nearly black, but a single beam of sunlight cracked the cloud cover and fell across her face like a warm caress.
"So it's a no, then?" he said.
"Go away! No to your deal, no to any deal, no to every fucking deal!"
He grinned, more a leer, and his teeth flashed blinding white. His eyes seemed to glow red like the spark at the heart of that stone he offered her, but she didn't look away. "Call me when you change your mind," he said. "When they see through you. When they find out what you did. I'll be here, Edie. I'll always be here for you."
She snarled like a wild animal and suddenly he was gone. The air lightened and the dust settled and liquid sunlight poured in golden and soft to replace it. She trembled all over and when she looked down at Nick he'd passed out again. But he seemed calmer somehow. Easier. The groove between his brows wasn't as deep, and she ran her thumb over it to soothe it further. Down the long, straight line of his nose and across the healing cut on his cheek.
"Wake up, Nicky," she said. "Please, wake up."
Nick had no idea how long he'd been fighting the infection, or how many times he slipped into unconsciousness to find himself in that same Nebraska cornfield. It seemed like weeks of running, always running, trying to stay ahead of the darkness that chased him. He called out for Kai, but her voice was so faint and far away he thought he'd never find her.
He was so tired that the word had lost all meaning. He just wanted to rest. To sit down and let the darkness come, because at this point what was the worst it could do? He'd already lost an eye, and his leg burned like it was stuffed with hot coals. A one-legged, one-eyed deaf mute. It was like something out of a Dickens story.
And so he stopped. He stopped searching for Kai and he stopped trying to outrun the hollow sound of worn-down boot heels. He turned toward the thunder and he dropped to the ground. Pulled his knees up and let his hands dangle between them. He waited.
It didn't take long.
The corn parted and a man strolled into the clearing. That's all he was: a man. He wore dusty jeans and worn cowboy boots and a jean jacket with buttons on it. One was a big yellow smiley face. Nick blinked. He hadn't expected the Dark Man to have a mullet.
"Well there ya are!" he said with a wide, wide grin. He sat down across from Nick and crossed his legs. "Nick Andros. We meet at last. How the hell are ya, buddy?"
Nick lifted a brow and said nothing.
"Silent type, huh? I get it. Pretty sure you can talk here, though." He paused. His blue eyes twinkled with mirth. "Maybe you just don't feel like it. I heard you've been under the weather lately. Not the flu, what a break! But bad enough. Bad enough to do the trick."
His mouth moved in a slow, sardonic smile. "She made me a promise," he said.
"That's true. But women, right? Can you really trust them to keep their promises? They're so…flighty."
Casual misogyny. How gauche. Nick fought the urge to yawn.
"No, no"—he lifted his hands as though conceding a point—"she's different. You're right. Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it."
Nick snorted. "She's hardly Lady MacBeth, and I'm pretty sure she wouldn't like to hear how she's not like other girls." His eyes narrowed. "What do they call you, anyway? I don't mean all the stupid nicknames. I mean for real."
He grinned again. "Oh, well, that's easy! Name's Randall Flagg, two L's and two G's. I'd offer to shake your hand, but I have a feeling you'd say no. Then I'd get offended, and you'd be upset when I burned your eyes from your sockets. A whole big thing we can just avoid, don't you think?"
"Sounds like a plan." He let his knees fall so that he mirrored Flagg's posture. "Can you hurt me here?"
"Eh." He wagged his hand in a maybe gesture. "Not directly. But I can do things that would make you want to hurt yourself."
Nick made a low, thoughtful noise. "Is that why you're here?"
"No!" He looked wounded. "Gosh, Nick, no! I'm here because I'd like us to be friends. Good friends. The type of friends who share things." His lips curved in another of those too-wide grins. "Women, maybe."
He blinked. "I'm sorry?"
Flagg let out a brief, impatient sigh. "I'm talking about Edie, of course. You could have her. No questions asked, no tedious courtship rituals. Just her, all yours."
"I thought you said you wanted to share."
"Ahh, well, that's negotiable. I'm not so much interested in having her in my bed as just having her. And you, of course."
He leaned closer. Around them the air chilled, and the day darkened. Nick pretended not to notice and didn't take his eyes from Flagg's face. "She is a stubborn woman, Nick. I know the type. You have to listen to them, all the time, to even have a chance of getting into their panties. It's exhausting. I'm offering you a shortcut. Everything you want, without all the work."
Nick frowned. Shifted on the hard ground and took a moment to enjoy the sound of the wind in the stalks. Finally he lifted his hands in a shrug. "Nah," he said.
Flagg sat back, stung. "Nah? That's what you have to say to me?! Just nah?!"
He scrubbed a hand back through his hair and huffed out a laugh. "You really think I want her like that? Some kind of weird-ass slave? All meek and cowed and quiet?" He shook his head in amused disbelief. "She's named after the fucking ocean, and you're offering me a goddamn puddle. So, yeah. Nah."
Flagg stared at him, and for a moment his eyes flared red and his entire face seemed to contort and change into something horrific, so terrible that Nick's mind blanked, but then his expression stilled and he burst out laughing. "Oh, Nick!" He wagged his finger at him like he would at a naughty child. "You're right! What was I thinking? What's the point of wasting all that money on the pure bred filly if you just break her spirit?!"
Nick wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Not exactly what I meant, but sure."
"Okay, all right, let's get down to brass tacks, you and me." Flagg pushed to his feet and glared down at Nick from what seemed like much too far away. "I want to place you high in my council, Nicholas. I want your voice to be my voice. All those people, the ones like Ray Booth and Billy Warner, will cower at the sound of it. They will beg you for mercy and you will decide if they are worthy of it. If you want her at your side you can have her, on whatever terms you want. You can have your voice, your ears, and both your eyes. The power, the woman, and everything you've ever wanted."
Nick craned his head back to see Flagg's face. His eyes burned and crows circled and cawed overhead. The sky was nearly pitch black. "What do I have to do?" he said. "Sign on the dotted line?"
"Don't be silly. I'm a laid-back kinda demigod. Your word is good enough for me. Your word that you'll put no one else before me. That you'll fall to your knees and worship me. That you'll devote yourself to me and me alone. Such a tiny request for so much in return."
Nick swallowed hard. The ground shook beneath him and he nearly toppled when he tried to stand. Mother Abagail would want him to say no. Kai would say no, laugh and throw his offer back in his face like so much bullshit.
"She's not who you think she is!" Flagg said. He had to shout to be heard over the sudden howl of the wind.
"I know who she is," he said with a scowl.
"Do you?" He smirked and spread his hands like a magician revealing his trick. "So she's told you, then? Her big, bad secret?"
Nick clenched his hands so hard his nails bit into his palms. The pain grounded him. He shoved his hair back where the wind whipped it into his eyes and shook his head. "My answer is no. I don't want power, I don't want her—not the way you're offering her—and I have my voice. Rudy Sparkman gave it to me, and it would take someone a whole lot bigger and badder than you to take it away."
He turned and pushed his way into the corn despite the tremors and the gale and the lightning that threatened to split the sky in two. He was done here. He had to find Kai, and he had to wake the fuck up, because she had a promise to keep.
"Nick!" Flagg cried from behind him. "I'll be here when you change your mind. Ask her! Ask her what she did!"
Nick didn't turn. He reached back, lifted his middle finger, and held it steady until he was swallowed by the corn.
Notes:
I want to be very clear that Nick has no desire to be anything other than who he is. Flagg is making an offer he THINKS Nick will accept, that he THINKS Kai will accept on Nick's behalf, but he doesn't understand that not everyone's desires are as base as his, or that not everyone is unhappy with who they are. Evil assumes that everyone shares its same petty smallness, and part of resisting it is proving that you're bigger than it is—something that all of Mother Abagail's people are able to do when tempted, but Flagg's ppl aren't. I say this bc I don't want y'all to think I'm playing to the "all disabled ppl secretly wish they were abled" trope, bc I'm not.
Chapter Text
the shape that i'm in now
your shape in the doorway
make your good love known to me
or just tell me about your day
Hozier, "As It Was"
June 30 (the wee hours)
Kai woke from the dream with a jerk. She sat for a second panting like a caged animal, then shot out of bed and into the bathroom, where she threw up every bite of dinner she'd eaten. With a soft moan she sank down next to the toilet and cradled her head in her hands. What if she'd made the wrong choice? There was no doubt that Flagg was the bad guy and Mother Abagail the good, but what good was being on the right side…without Nick?
Kai didn't know if she was a good person or not. She knew she preferred to love rather than to hate, that she abhorred violence, and that her tolerance for intolerance was nonexistent, but weren't those just basic hurdles one had to clear to be a civilized member of society?
But she did know Nick, and she knew that whatever doubts she had about her own character, she had none about his. They hadn't known each other more than a week, but in that time they'd been through a lot, and there had been plenty of chances to see the type of person he was.
"A better man than you, d'Arnaud, and he still needs your help," she muttered to herself. She pushed herself up from the floor with a grunt. Stopped at the sink to wash out her mouth and splash cool water on her face. She wet a washcloth for Nick, too, and went back to the bedroom.
There was a nightlight in one corner of the room that she kept on all night. It gave enough light to judge his breathing and to keep her from tripping over anything on her way to the bathroom, but not enough to really see. She stood for a moment in the semi-dark. The house itself was quiet, but the owl that lived in the surrounding woods seemed to be having some sort of owl hootenanny. She grinned at her own stupid joke and shook herself awake (she'd almost dozed off standing there listening to the ruckus).
When she reached for Nick, a hand rose from the dark and grabbed her wrist. She froze, heart hammering—not with fear, but with hope—and turned on the lamp with her free hand. She looked down at him, eyes wide, and he glared back with a face scrunched against the sudden onslaught of brightness.
He let go of her with a rough sigh. "Kai…?" His movements were sluggish, weak, but it was the first time in three days he'd been truly coherent.
She gave a sob of relief. Now, in the light, she could see that he was drenched with sweat. "Yeah, Nick, it's me. Don't move. Hang on." She touched his cheek, then his forehead, and found his skin to be cool and damp. His fever had broken.
"What happened? I dreamt…about him. I couldn't—find you."
"You shot yourself, remember?"
He frowned. "In the eye?"
"No, that really would've been something. The leg."
He sucked in a rough breath through clenched teeth as he tried to move it. "Oh yeah."
"It got infected. You've been out a few days."
"How long?" He struggled a moment. "Help me sit up."
"Okay, slow down, you're weak. You couldn't keep anything down, so you're hungry and dehydrated. I'll help you up, then I'm going to get you something to drink." She wrapped her arms around his too-thin form and helped him sit up, then held him while she adjusted the pillows behind him. By the time she got him leaned back against them, he was panting and his face was drawn.
"Fuck," he said.
"Fair assessment. I'll be right back. Do not move, understood?"
He just nodded and closed his good eye.
She hurried to the kitchen to grab a bottle of Pedialyte. She debated chicken broth, but decided that could wait. She needed to get fluids into him fast, and she had to make sure they would actually stay in.
She paused in the hallway outside the bedroom and leaned against the wall. Took several deep, steadying breaths. His fever had broken. She needed to check his leg. Get him cleaned up. She wanted to hear about his dream. She should tell him about hers.
He was awake. His fever had broken. Apparently Randall Flagg didn't hold as many cards as he claimed to.
When she got back he was sleeping, but peacefully. She almost let him, but he needed fluids. She climbed up onto the bed beside him and gave him a gentle shake.
"Fell asleep," he signed as his eye fluttered open.
"I know." She shook the bottle, opened it, and handed it to him. He frowned at it.
"Are you kidding?"
"Sarah used to give this to anyone with a stomach bug. It's less sugar than GatorAde and rehydrates better. Or so she always said. Drink up, and if you feel up to it, I'll make you some chicken broth."
"Yes, ma'am." He gave her a brief grin to show he was kidding, and when she lifted a brow at him, he dutifully took a sip. "Not bad," he said.
"Drink as much as you can, but don't rush. Small, slow sips."
He did as she instructed, and after about a quarter of the bottle, he put the lid on and set it aside. "How long?"
"Three days," she said. "When I got back from my run to town that first night, you were out. Fever had spiked and you were delirious. After that you were in and out. Sometimes I'd get the fever down a bit, but then it'd shoot right back up. You'd be awake for an hour, max, then gone again."
"I don't remember any of that." He rubbed his arms with his palms as though suddenly chilled. "I remember dreaming. I was in the corn, and I kept looking for you, but I couldn't find you. There were always coyotes and crows. Rats too, I think. Then…him."
She let out a rough sigh and slumped against the pillows. "Yeah, me too. Did he offer you a deal?"
He gave a slow nod. "He said I could have power and sex. Whatever I wanted. My hearing, my eye back, the ability to speak. He said…he wanted me to be his voice, and that assholes like Ray Booth would cower before me." He made a face that eloquently expressed his opinion of that idea.
"And you said no." It wasn't a question.
He looked at her then, his face wan and lined with fatigue, but his eye bright and steady. "So did you."
Her mouth quirked. "How do you know?"
"Because I know you," he said without any hesitation. "You wouldn't have said yes."
She dipped her head and ran a hand through her tangled hair. She needed a shower. "I might have. I was in the corn, and I found you there, passed out. He offered me…you. You, alive and well, with your eye and your ears and your vocal cords. I might—have said yes. But then you…woke up. You looked at me, and I knew—you didn't want it. If I said yes and made you into someone—something—you're not, you never would have forgiven me."
He pondered that a moment. Would he have been angry? Yeah, a bit, because what—she wanted him different? She thought he wanted to be different? It would have been a betrayal, but to be fair—one made in good faith. He ran a hand over his face, careful to avoid his bad eye. "Never is a long time, Kai," he finally said.
"But…?"
"But." He sighed. "I would've been pissed that you sold your soul for me…and that you had so little faith in me."
She snorted. "Nick, you goofy idiot. Who the fuck else on earth would I possibly sell my soul for?"
"Don't say that," he said.
She shrugged. "It's the truth. He started off by telling me to leave you, that you were going to die. He realized real fast that wasn't gonna fly, so he switched tactics."
"His first offer to me wasn't great, either." She cast him a curious look, but he just gave a brief shake of his head. "Not important. I guess he starts with the easiest and most obvious and goes from there. Makes you wonder what he offers the people who accept."
"A stack of Playboys and a bottle of Jergens," she said with a snort.
"That's gross, Kai." But he grinned as he said it. His grin slowly faded and he leaned back against the pillows. "Shit. I'm exhausted."
"You'll have to take it slow for a while," she said. "It's going to take time to get your strength back." Her eyes dropped and she picked at the sheet a moment. "And, you know. It's weird, but I feel like…" Her brows drew together over stormy eyes. "It was hard to say no. No, I didn't want his first offer; I'd never leave you like that; but…the second one…. And I thought, maybe this is the only way. Maybe by saying no I'm condemning Nick to die. Maybe I made the wrong choice." She paused, hands hovering in midair. "That was the worst part."
He gave a slow nod. "He knew what to say to tempt us. I mean—I'm human. Part of me does like the idea of turning the tables on psychotic bullies and bigots. Getting some of my own back. But it felt like…okay, maybe I'd feel like hot shit for a while, but…" He shrugged, restlessly. "The cost seemed too high, in the end."
"A soul is a high price to pay."
Their eyes met. "I'm not sure if I even believe in a soul. Integrity, I guess, is a better word. Humanity. I don't know." He frowned and touched her chin when she tried to look away again. "I meant you, Kai. If I'd said yes it would've cost me you, no matter what promises he made."
Her mouth fell open and her eyes went big and bright. "I—that's—why I said no, too. At least—part of why. He kept saying I didn't need you, that you're just baggage, but he was wrong." Her mouth quirked, ruefully. "I realized at some point in the last three days that surviving Captain Trips doesn't mean a whole lot without you. I know that's a lot of pressure to put on you after so short an acquaintance—"
"No, it's not."
"But it's just the way I"—she blinked—"it's not?"
"It's how I feel about it too. I don't believe in God and I don't think I believe in fate or predestination or anything like that, but I do believe in you. You're here. You're real. There's a reason you're the one I was looking for in all of those dreams. I don't really understand any of this, or what the fuck any of it has to do with me, a deaf-mute drifter from Nebraska, but I understand you." He grimaced. "As much as I can, anyway. As much as you'll let me."
"I…" She sat very still for several long heartbeats. Then, "I don't let people know me. As a rule."
His wide mouth curved. "Don't I know it. It's okay. I'm patient." He hesitated, then tugged her closer and wrapped his arm over her shoulders.
She settled in, cheek resting lightly against his chest, and listened to the steady sound of his heart. How much had changed in the few short days since the last time she'd done this, sitting on Jane Baker's bathroom floor. She felt like they'd been through fire and had come out of it more or less intact, and steadier and more sure of each other than before.
"I'm glad you're not dead," she said. "And that we both said no."
He snorted. "Shit me too. But I never doubted you. You made me a promise."
"So I did," she said with a wry tilt to her mouth. "I always keep my promises."
"That's my girl," he said.
He felt her tense against him, and he wondered if he'd made a major blunder. He hadn't meant it…quite like it came across. But he felt if he tried to explain he'd just fuck it up worse. He wasn't claiming her, or even trying to say that she was—or they were—it was just a turn of phrase! And—a little bit true, because after all hadn't they just said how they were in this together?
"Apocalypse buddy," he said, and she relaxed.
"Right. End-of-the-world friend."
He winced. Not exactly what he meant either, but if it kept her from clamming up again, okay. It would do. Baby steps.
They sat together for a while in silence, just enjoying the closeness and the rare moment of peace.
"You're a pretty decent human, Nick Andros."
"High praise from such a decent human as you, Kai d'Arnaud."
She shrugged. "Not decent, per se. Just picky."
"Even better," he said, grinning. He dipped his head toward his other armpit and made a face. "That is me I smell. I need a shower. Bad."
She disentangled herself from him with a brief smile. "I think a bath would be a better bet. You might tip over in the shower."
His brow crinkled. "Good point. Okay. Here I go." He tossed the covers back and turned around to throw his legs over the edge of the bed. He struggled to his feet. Took two shuffling steps, then cast a look over his shoulder.
"Need some help?"
He nodded, then wavered on his feet. She hurried around the bed and wrapped an arm around him. "Okay, no need to get dramatic, Aunt Pittypat. No fainting on my watch."
He glowered at her, but he was grateful for her help as she got him into the bathroom, sat him on the closed toilet, and started the water. She gestured for him to stay put and left for a minute. When she got back she had clean clothes and a little silver bell.
"Ring this when you're ready to get out. Do not, under any circumstances, try to get out of that tub by yourself."
"Kai…"
"Nick. I've seen penises before. But I promise I won't look."
His eyes widened in alarm. "Did you—take me to the bathroom?"
"I got you in here, and got you back to bed. You did the parts in the middle all by yourself."
He let out a long breath. "Okay. That's okay then." He held his hands out to her, and she helped him up and over to the tub.
"Don't forget to take the bandage off before you get in. Ring the bell if you need anything," she said, and left him.
Once the door closed he leaned down to carefully peel the bandage away. He grimaced as the tape snagged on his leg hair. The wound was on the same side as his bad eye, so he couldn't really see it, but there was a full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. He limped that way and twisted to get a look.
Fuck, he thought. It looked better than it had the first time he'd seen it, but it was still gnarly. The swelling had gone down, and it was pink rather than red. Starting to heal, but a long way to go. He frowned down at the bandage. Why the hell did it smell like honey?
He dropped it in the trashcan and carefully stepped into the tub. Sank into the hot water with a hiss of pain as it hit his leg. Whose idiotic idea was this?
Yours, dumbass. Now sit there and think about what you've done.
He let his head fall back and closed his eyes, and next thing he knew Kai was shaking him awake and the water was cold.
"Sorry," she said. "You've been in here an hour. I was afraid you might drown."
He gave a weary nod. She held a towel out like a curtain, and he slowly, laboriously pushed himself to his feet. Wrapped the towel around his waist and let her help him out. She turned her back while he dried off and got dressed, then helped him to the bed. She had changed the sheets. He gave her a surprised look.
She shrugged. "You got them all sweaty. In you go." She stopped him from pulling the covers up. "I think I should bandage it again. Just for another day or two."
He nodded again and pulled the edge of his shorts up to give her easier access. "Why does it smell like honey?" he said as she spread something on the bandage.
"Oh." She smoothed it into place and added tape. "It is honey. Honey, yarrow, and calendula. Excellent for wound care: antiseptic and helps the new, healthy tissue grow faster. That's why I wanted to re-bandage it. I can't just smear this stuff on you; it would make a hell of a mess on the sheets." She wrapped gauze around his thigh and taped it into place.
"When did you start doing that?"
She tilted her head as she tried to remember. "Yesterday morning, I think? This is the…seventh treatment? Yeah, that's right. It seems to be doing a good job. Your wound looks a lot better than it did." She put away the bandaging supplies and handed him three pills and the bottle of Pedialyte. "Antibiotic, two Tylenol. For the pain, and just in case your fever tries to come back."
He swallowed them and kept the bottle to keep drinking. She pointed out the mug of broth on the nightstand, then walked around the bed to start collecting her things. He frowned over at her.
"You were sleeping here?"
She looked away, her expression guarded. "I was afraid to leave you alone for too long, and when you—were the worst—delirious and…all that…if I fell asleep, you'd wake me up. I wasn't sure you were coherent enough to ring a bell if you needed me."
His frown deepened. He played with the bottle lid. Screwed it back on and set the bottle aside. "I can't believe you did all that for me."
"Nick…" She bit her lip, and there were a thousand things she wanted to say. Instead she just gave a little shrug and a smile. "You'd do the same for me."
"I would," he said. "Except the honey thing. I didn't know that. But all the rest." His lips curved, and her own smile widened.
"Anyway, now that you're awake and have the bell, I'll get out of your way." She held an empty mug and two books, plus a small stack of laundry.
"Stay."
"Oh, well—I was about to take a shower. I can come back after, but I figure you'll probably be asleep. But I'll check on you before I go to bed."
The line formed between his brows and he twisted a hand through his hair. "No, Kai, I mean—stay. Go take your shower, then come back and sleep in here. Don't—go. I mean—unless you want to. If it makes you uncomfortable now that I'm awake."
Her brilliant eyes widened. "No! I mean—no, it—doesn't make me uncomfortable. I want you to be—comfortable. You're the walking wounded here."
His face eased into a soft smile. "I'll be comfortable if you're here. Please stay."
"Yeah," she said with a jerky nod. She dropped her things back onto the bed. "I didn't like the idea of—being all by myself. It's been a really rough few days."
"I'm getting that idea." He waved toward the bathroom. "Go shower. I'll drink my soup, and you can tell me more about it when you get back."
She chuckled. "Sure. If you're awake, I'll talk your other eye out."
"Good," he said. "I'm pretty sure I missed you."
She shot him a grin and disappeared into the bathroom before he could see her blush.
In a move that surprised absolutely no one, he'd fallen asleep by the time she got back. She checked his forehead just to make sure, but the fever wasn't back, and his sleep was peaceful. "Welcome back, Andros. I'm pretty sure I missed you, too."
She curled up next to him, and just before she drifted off, she felt him stir. His arm went around her waist and he pulled her close. She fell asleep with the warmth of his breath against her neck and the rhythm of his heart in sync with hers, and she knew she'd made the right choice when she told Flagg to fuck off. Nick was back, he was going to be okay, and she'd kept her promise.
Notes:
A couple of short chapters in a row, but don't worry. Long ones inc!!
Comments? Lovelies??
Chapter 11: Quiet and Noise
Summary:
The beginning of an interlude.
Notes:
Someone messaged me on my tumblr (binickandros) and asked if other characters would be appearing in this fic. Yes, they will! I've updated the tags to reflect accordingly.
Feel free to send me messages on said tumblr, or leave comments here. Thanks, y'all. :)
Chapter Text
if i could make days last forever
if words could make wishes come true
i'd save every day like a treasure and then
again i would spend them with you
Jim Croce, "Time in a Bottle"
Interlude, June 30 - July 17
Nick was angry at first, annoyed by how weak he was and pissed off that it was his own clumsiness that had nearly killed him. He sulked and grumbled and avoided her as much as he could in the limited space available, but she was, if nothing else, persistent.
Slowly he came out of his funk, thanks to plentiful food, fresh air, sunshine, and her, always her, her brilliant eyes and her wicked smile. The scent that lingered on her pillow when he woke hours after she was already up. The perpetual scrim of flour that seemed to coat every surface in the kitchen.
She forced him outside, first on slow little rambles to the lakeshore and back, but then on longer and longer walks, until they could rightly be called short hikes. She pointed out plants edible, medicinal, and just plain pretty. She made him wear sunscreen and bug spray and reminded him to drink regularly from the canteen he carried. She laughed at his stupid jokes and never failed to tease him when he needed to lighten up.
As the hot, golden days passed they grew more comfortable with each other. She told him of her life after her father died, how she'd fled back to New Orleans and the Deaf community there had taken her in like no time had passed. When she was ready to move on they shuffled her from city to city, guiding her gently north, to New York City and all the options it presented.
She talked about Sarah with a sort of wistful nostalgia, and he got the sense that while she still loved her and always would, she hadn't been in love with her for a while. Maybe it stopped the moment Sarah had uttered those fateful words about having a deaf kid, but he suspected it had been happening well before that. She'd been comfortable in her life, happy at the restaurant and content to not examine the gritty details of her marriage.
It was a complacency he could appreciate, maybe more so because he'd never experienced it himself. He'd always been restless, ready to move on to the next thing, even on the one or two occasions he'd fancied himself in love. The only time in his life he could remember being content to stay put was…right now. In a dead man's cabin with a woman he'd met in a dream.
He told her anything she wanted to know about his life, including about Rudy, and his anger at what he'd seen as abandonment. About the group home, the early months there when he'd been so furious and alone, then the years learning to read and write and sign, when he'd finally discovered his voice.
He told her the meaning of his name sign.
They took trips into town—daytime only, and never, ever to the pharmacy—and raided clothing stores, the library, book stores, a candy shop that left them both giggling and giddy like children on Halloween. They found puzzles to replace the ones in the cabin they'd already worked and he taught her how to play Sudoku, which she despised and bitched about, and in retaliation she made him do yoga with her every morning.
Which, it turned out, he actually liked. It helped him grow stronger and more flexible, closer to the way he'd been before his encounter with Ray Booth and company on the road outside Shoyo, and sometimes, sitting in the sun and reveling in the silence as he concentrated on his breathing, he felt maybe, from the corner of his good eye (or the bad one, he wasn't sure) a glimmer of what Mother Abagail spoke about in his dreams.
Because the dreams continued, for both of them. Mother Abagail urged them on to Nebraska, but also told them to take the time they needed. Flagg didn't appear again in person, but he was always there, a dark, lurking presence out in the corn, or sometimes along the road. Nick dreamt of that, too: the ribbon of asphalt laid out before him. The sudden, helpless fear of being grabbed from behind. But now when he saw that ring flashing toward him from the dark, behind it was a familiar, leering grin that seemed to stretch too wide.
Some days they spent quietly, perched at either end of the couch, facing each other. Usually they would read, swapping off trashy romance novels as they finished them, and those days were maybe his favorites. She would sit with her knees drawn up, or sometimes with one long leg stretched toward him. He would often rest a hand on her ankle or her shin, and she never stopped him or pulled away. He would use his thumb to stroke the inside of her ankle and every once in a while he would catch her with her eyes closed, basking in the touch like a cat might.
He felt like he'd never grow tired of touching her: an easy caress along her arm; a teasing twitch of her hair; a light hand on her hip as he eased past her in the kitchen or the hall. He knew he'd never grow tired of watching her, her expressive face and graceful body and flying hands. The way her eyes lit up when she was happy and her mouth went soft when she grew more wistful. He loved making her laugh and he got a kick of how excited she became over ladybugs or dragonflies or a pretty sunset.
As the days passed he realized more and more why Flagg's initial offer had been so repugnant to him. It wasn't just the inherent wrongness in owning another person against their will (which was…abhorrently wrong in and of itself), but also it was because of just how much he wanted her. All of her, without a single rough edged smoothed for his convenience. He wanted her highs and lows, softness and sharpness, sweetness and ferocity. The intimacy that came with quiet and with noise, with touch and with absence.
She was messy and thoughtful and picky and kind, bossy and generous and whip-smart and funny, a beautiful storm of complexities and riddles, and he loved learning all of it. All of it but whatever lurked behind her eyes sometimes when she spoke of her life before, when she spoke of the years after her parents died. When she spoke of her father. He shoved Flagg's voice (Ask her!) out of his mind and concentrated on the moment, because at the end of the world, that was all you could really count on.
Sometimes, he'd later think, the two weeks he'd spent recovering from a beating, an attack, accidentally shooting himself, and the subsequent major infection were the happiest he'd ever been.
July 8
"Hey." He poked her arm so that she looked at him. "You see that?"
She frowned. "See what?" she signed one-handed, the other hand on the car's steering wheel.
He grinned and pointed toward an approaching billboard. She ducked her head to read it, then fixed him with an astounded stare.
"No!" she said. "No way!"
"Yeah, yes, come on! It'll be fun."
"Do you know how many horny perverts probably stopped in there to have one last wank before kicking off from Captain Trips?!"
He smirked. "Go out with a bang, I guess."
"No."
"Come on!" He jostled her arm. "I'll go in first. If there's a single body in there, we'll leave. I promise." He bent his head to rest at the crook of her elbow so that he could look up into her face.
She glanced down at him with an annoyed sigh. "Goddamn puppy eyes."
"I'll do all the dishes for the next…three days."
She snorted. "You can't stand up long enough to do the damn dishes."
He'd only been back on his feet a few days, and she was right. He tried a different tack. "It's Sunday."
"You haven't blasphemed in weeks," she said, fighting off a smile. Another huff, this one laced with laughter. "Fine. But you go in first. And you do the dishes."
"Yes! Absolutely, dishes for me. I'll pull up a chair if I have to."
"And if you get too tired, we're leaving. You're not using up all your energy wandering around a skeevy sex shop."
"It might not be skeevy. Here, that's the exit."
She took the exit and followed the signs to a low brick building with a giant XXX sign on the roof and a potholed gravel parking lot. She eyed him. "Sure. Doesn't look skeevy at all."
"I'll be right back," he said. "Wait here." He hopped out of the car and limped (though only a little bit now) to the door. Gave it a tug. Then a harder one. Looked back at her and shook his head.
"The things I do for you, Andros," she muttered. She got out and locked the car behind her. "Closed?" she signed.
He nodded. "Seems less likely there'll be dead pervs inside a closed skeevy sex shop, don't you think?" He grabbed one of the large rocks that edged the parking lot and tossed it through the glass door. "Alarm?" he signed with a glance back at her.
She shook her head. "Doesn't seem to be. Thank goodness. Last thing we need is a gang of zombie cops catching us breaking into the sex shop."
"We've been over this, Kai. It's not that kind of apocalypse." He used another rock to clear the glass from around the doorframe, then carefully stepped through to unlock it. "Wait here. I'll check it out just to make sure."
He disappeared inside. She wandered around a little, humming that song from just before it all went to shit. She kicked a piece of gravel so that it pinged off one of the tires.
"Baby, can you dig your man…" she murmured. It was almost like she could hear it—but then she realized she could. It was coming from inside the store. A working radio? That seemed impossible. Stations had stopped broadcasting weeks ago.
Nick appeared in the doorway and beckoned her inside. "All clear. Holy shit, you have got to see this place!"
He held the door for her and she slipped past him into the store, then stopped short. "What the…?" There were probably a dozen big-screen TVs mounted to the wall showing a variety of movies. Between each one was a mannequin modeling a different type of fetish gear: leather harnesses, full-body PVC suits, puppy play getups (she shuddered; that was a big one on her no list), and the old dominatrix standard black corsets, thigh-high boots, and whips.
"Wow," she said. "I had no idea small-town Arkansas was so…niche with its kinks."
"Me neither. This is wild. Hang on, I think the control for all these TVs is back here." He beckoned her to follow him deeper into the shop and ducked behind the counter. A moment later the TVs went off, and so did the music. She let out a sigh of relief.
"This place is actually—really nice," he said with a confused frown. "I was expecting, like you said, something skeevy, but they've got like handmade, custom shit back here. Look at these." He pointed to a display of spreader bars. "They've got blacksmith marks."
She lifted a brow. "You sound like a connoisseur."
"Of sex toys? No, not really. But I worked with a blacksmith in Minnesota a few winters ago, so I know good metalwork when I see it."
"A blacksmith?!" she said. "Like from a medieval village or something?"
He shrugged and she followed him as he wandered down an aisle. He paused to pick up an improbably-sized dildo, study it with a skeptical expression, and replace it on the shelf. "In theory, yeah. Blacksmithing hasn't changed much, really. A lot of towns in ranch country have them. It's not like they make swords and shit. More like horseshoes and repairs."
"That's cool, though. I guess a forge is a good place to spend a Minnesota winter." She frowned at an even more improbably sized dildo. "Not to sound like a prude, but where exactly does this go?"
He stopped next to her and they appraised it with equal care and gravitas. "I guess—some places are stretchier than others?" he finally said.
"I don't think any of my places are quite that stretchy."
"I don't know," he said with a wry smile. "I've seen you do yoga when you aren't dumbing it down for me."
She elbowed him in the stomach and they kept walking. "Maybe I'm not the best judge of that anyway," she said. "Penetrative sex isn't…" She trailed off and waved a hand. "It's not what really does it for me."
He reached out to adjust a bottle of lube with a thoughtful nod. "Women who sleep with women seem to be more aware of that than women who've only been with straight men."
"Hm. Lots of women enjoy penetration, though."
"Well, true. But women who've only been with straight men…" He hesitated. Shrugged. "It's been my experience that unless they spend a lot of time"—he gestured toward a vibrator—"exploring on their own, they don't always realize that penetration isn't necessarily the…best way to get off. It's like…I don't know." He blew out a breath and cut her a quick glance.
"Don't worry about offending me," she said. "I'm interested. Go on."
"I just don't want to sound like I think I know more about women than women do. That's not what I mean."
"I know it's not. It's okay."
He took a moment to gather his thoughts. Then, "I think a lot of women who've only slept with straight men, or only spent time with…cishet depictions of sex think that that's pretty much all there is to it. Maybe some oral, but only as a precursor to vaginal sex. But women who've slept with women, yeah sure they might get off from penetration, but they know there's a whole lot more to it than that." His mouth moved in an awkward grimace. "Or so it seems to me."
She gave him a long look. "Cishet?" she finally said.
A shoulder rose and fell. "I dated a gender studies major once. It was interesting." He held up a pair of nipple clamps, and she shook her head in a definitive no. "I kept reading about it after we broke up."
"Oh." She took the clamps from him and returned them to the display. "Well…I think you're probably right. Mostly, anyway. It's hard to make broad generalizations about sex, but." Her head tilted thoughtfully. "That's been my experience, too. And also my experience before the first time I slept with a woman."
"When did you realize you were bi? If that's not too personal."
She laughed. "I think we're well beyond that. I was a teenager, but—I lived in this tiny town in Louisiana, and it wasn't exactly…friendly. So I dated a few boys and lost my virginity to one and wondered if that's all sex was. What was the big fucking deal? People were willing to destroy their entire lives just for that?" She shrugged. "It didn't make sense."
"Until…?"
"Until the first time I was with a girl." She blushed a little. "After my dad died and I went to New Orleans. She taught me…" She blew out a long breath. "A lot. Sex with men was better after that."
"See?" he said with half a smile. "Like I said."
"Nick Andros, giving Dr. Ruth a run for her money." She held up a truly tacky red negligee, and he gave her a thumbs down. "No? Come on. I could tease my hair and everything. It'd be a look."
He took it from her, as she'd done with him and the nipple clamps, and hung it back on the rack.
"But nipple clamps are okay?"
He shook his head. "Not really into pain."
She pointed to one of the harness-clad mannequins. "What about leather?"
"Not that either. It just seems impractical."
"I always thought so too. Though I do like a good corset. Just not a leather one." She flipped through a rack of DVDs, but all the titles made her roll her eyes. "How about you? When did your great bisexual awakening arrive?"
He frowned a little and straightened the DVD display she'd left askew. "I don't know. I lost my virginity when I was fifteen to a much older woman who I think thought of me as a sort of pet. Not like"—he gestured toward the puppy play mannequin—"but…someone cute and amusing. And moldable."
Her mouth opened. Closed again. "Nick, that's—"
"I know. But I didn't really think of it like that at the time. But anyway then sometime around like seventeen or eighteen I watched My Own Private Idaho and my whole life changed."
"It was the Buffy the Vampire Slayer movie for me."
He made a face. "The show was so much better."
"We're not talking about quality here, bud."
He acknowledged that with a brief tilt of his head.
"So you think straight women not enjoying sex is because of men?" she said as they wandered down another aisle.
His mouth quirked. "Why are you asking me questions you already know the answer to? Men, the patriarchy, bizarre Puritanical American values—take your pick."
"All true, but sex positive feminism has plenty of pitfalls of its own. A guy on Tinder once told a friend of mine if she didn't send him nudes she was being a bad feminist, because real feminists embrace their sexuality and find nudity empowering."
"Christ, what a tool. I guess it's a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation."
"It always is," she said with a sweet, poisonous smile, "for women."
"Pretty shitty."
"It is. But I can't imagine it's easy out there for a brown-skinned, bisexual deaf mute kid with a leather daddy kink."
His good eye went wide. "I do not have a—"
"Just checking!" She tried to smother her laughter and failed. "I'm just trying to figure out what you're into, that's all."
He huffed, but he wasn't actually offended. "Right. What's it to you anyway?"
She cocked her head to the side in a challenging sort of way. "Curiosity, I guess."
"You know what they say about curiosity and cats."
"Curiosity killed the cat." Her lips curved. "But satisfaction brought it back."
"Exactly," he said, and smiled so that his dimples appeared. He took a moment to select a feather off a colorful display of them and stepped closer.
She eyed him with suspicion. "I hate to be tickled."
"Relax. No tickles, I promise." He ran his fingers through her hair, separating a chunk of it into sections, and began to braid the feather into it. When he was done he stroked the pad of his thumb around the curve of her ear and down the side of her neck. She shivered.
"There," he said. "A souvenir of our field trip to the weirdly kinky sex store."
"And here I thought we'd picked out the dick-shaped twinkle lights."
"We can get those too," he said with a grin.
"You spoil me, Nick, you really do."
"Nah, you got me the giant teddy bear at the candy store. Dick-shaped twinkle lights are the least I can do."
They were grinning when their eyes met, but her expression changed. Turned inward and thoughtful. "Do you ever wonder what it would've been like if we'd met before all this?"
"I thought we weren't supposed to do that."
She gave a quick shake of her head. "Right. We aren't."
"You've been married the last five years."
"True."
"And five years ago I was kind of a prick."
She made a face. "So what's changed?"
He threw a dick-shaped keychain at her, but she dodged it, giggling. "I'm kidding. I can't imagine you were ever a prick."
"I was. An arrogant prick with a chip on his shoulder. But I grew up, and I think now…" He trailed off, and she cast him a questioning look. "Now I'm more the type of person a woman like you would want to spend time with."
"A woman like me. Hmm." She glanced over her shoulder, toward the front of the store, and when she looked back at him he felt something shift between them, like a curtain settling into place. "We should get going. Your limp's getting worse."
Internally he sighed. He'd crossed some invisible tripwire that sent her running. "It's fine. Barely hurts."
"Yep. That's why you just winced when you shifted your weight."
"I did not—" He did it again and grimaced. "Yeah, okay, it hurts a little bit, but I swear I'm fine."
"Good. Then you'll be able to do the dishes when we get back—since that is what you promised to get me in here." She turned to go, but he caught her arm to stop her.
"Kai—what just happened?"
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
He thrust his hands out in a gesture of frustration. "You know exactly what I mean. We were talking, having a good time, and suddenly you disappeared."
"I'm right here," she said. At his look she rubbed a hand over her face and fought back a sigh. "I just think we need to be careful, that's all. We've barely known each other two weeks and in that time we've been through a lifetime of shit. It's easy to mistake—relief—at being alive, or—that adrenaline high—for…something that isn't there."
He shook his head as she went on, and when her hands fell back to her sides his mouth moved in a slow, rueful smile. She could be maddening and contradictory and obstinate, and while normally it was part of why he was so crazy about her (yes, even the stubbornness), that particular explanation didn't pass any sort of smell test. "Bullshit."
She blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"Bull. Shit. You're not a coward, Kai. Stop acting like one." He brushed past her and half-limped, half-stomped to the door. Stopped to yank a pack of penis-shaped twinkle lights off the rack and kept going. She had the keys, and the car was locked, but she wouldn't be surprised if he tried to walk back out of sheer stubbornness.
She followed him slowly, dragging her feet as she went. No, she wasn't a coward. Not usually. She'd screamed in Flagg's face even as the fear cramped her stomach and chilled her blood. But this thing with Nick (whatever it was) was different, and part of her would rather face a thousand Randall Flaggs at his scariest than one Nick Andros on an average "I'm so goddamn considerate it's gross" Tuesday.
"Never should've said yes to the sex store, dumbass," she muttered to herself.
Too late now. The damage was most definitely done.
Things had been tense between them all afternoon. She'd retreated to the bedroom with a book as soon as they got back, then emerged a few hours later to make dinner. He did the dishes. She took a long bath. They'd barely said three words to each other, and it was making him nuts.
He wandered out onto the back deck to find her in one of the Adirondack chairs, a mug of peppermint tea cupped in her hands, watching the sun set over the lake. When she saw him she used her foot to nudge the other chair his way.
"Nice night," he signed as he sat.
She just nodded and sipped her tea. The scent of citronella floated from the candle she had lit to keep the mosquitos away. The flame danced in the breeze and overhead the sky put on a show. He kept casting her looks from the corner of his eye, but she just watched the sunset, expression mild. Finally he let out a silent sigh.
"Kai, look, about earlier—"
She set her tea aside and held up a hand to stop him. "You were right."
His hands fell to his lap in astonishment. "I what?"
"Don't let it go to your head," she said with a brief quirk of her lips. "I just mean—you were right about me being afraid, and blocking you out. I am afraid."
"Of me? I told you—"
"No, not—not that you're dangerous or something." She sighed and pushed to her feet. Wandered toward the edge of the deck and turned back to face him. "I thought you were going to die. Not—completely. I hadn't resigned myself to the idea. But…it was a definite possibility. You were so fucking sick, and you weren't getting better no matter what I did."
He stood and took a few careful steps closer. "But I did get better. I didn't die. I'm not planning on dying any time soon."
"Well no shit, Nicholas, neither am I!" She threw her arms out in an encompassing gesture. "I don't think anyone who died of Captain Trips was planning for that, either."
"Okay, okay. You're right." He scrubbed the hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, okay?! I'm sorry I fucking shot myself and didn't even realize it and then nearly fucking died. It wasn't exactly part of my life plan."
She could tell he wasn't mad at her, so she let him rant.
"Ray Booth tried hard enough to kill me; I didn't have to help him out! What if you hadn't been there? Would I have been able to get the gun out in time?! Would he have finished what he started out on that road? I don't know! I don't like thinking about it."
He drew in a long, shaking breath. "I don't know what would have happened to me if you hadn't been there, either during the whole thing or after, when I was sick from it. If you think that makes me…weirdly attached to you…like some sort of Florence Nightingale syndrome…then I don't know what to say. Yes, I'm attached to you. Yes, it's partly because you saved my life. But that isn't the only reason. That just means I know I can count on you when shit really hits the fan. You aren't going to lose your shit or flake out on me or dump and run."
"I wouldn't do that," she said.
He gave her a careful look. "Not anymore."
She rocked back on her heels like he'd scored a hit. "That's fair." She crossed her arms over her middle. Uncrossed them again. "So what is your life plan at this point?"
His mouth quirked. "Right now? Just trying to convince this girl I like that I haven't imprinted on her like a baby duck."
"I never said—"
"You kind of implied it."
She scuffed the wooden decking with the toe of her sneaker. "So you like me?"
He yanked at his dark curls and grimaced. "Shut up, please."
"Nick…" She caught him by the shirt to tug him closer. "I'm just trying to be careful."
"I know," he said. He tucked her hair behind her ears. "Careful's fine. I appreciate careful. Just please stop shutting me out. I'm your friend if nothing else."
She rested her hands on his hips and dropped her forehead to land against his sternum. He stroked his palms over her smooth hair and down her back, then wrapped his arms around her. They stood like that a long time, as the sun sank behind the trees and dusk melted into night. The nearly full moon brightened and the candle lent everything a soft golden glow.
He pulled away to cup her face in his hands. Her pulse quickened, and she almost pulled away, but when he lowered his face toward hers, he merely pressed a kiss to her forehead and let go. He smiled and rubbed his thumb along her cheekbone, then took a step back.
"You wanna go find a place for our new twinkle lights?" he said.
She grinned. "Yes, please."
"Next time we go we should grab one of those dick-shaped cake pans."
"Babe, if you want cake, just ask. We don't have to visit a sex shop for a novelty pan."
He thought that over. "Can we visit for other novelties then?"
"What type of novelties did you have in mind?" she said with a quirk of her brow.
His mouth moved in that slow, lazy half-smile. "Maybe we should have that conversation when you're feeling less cautious."
Chapter 12: Touch and Absence
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
my heart is thrilled by the still of your hand
that's how i know now that you understand
Hozier, "No Plan"
July 10
He sat on the porch reading a Nora Roberts book, basking in the sun like a lizard. The umbrella was unfurled overhead and he had a tall, sweaty glass of mint tea laced with honey at his elbow. He wasn't entirely satisfied with the book. She was a great writer, but there was nary a bodice to be ripped. It did kind of make him want to move to Ireland and open a pub, though. He wondered how Kai felt about Ireland, and pubs.
He paused a moment to consider, his eyes scanning the lake without really seeing it, when movement in the yard caught his eye. It was the woman herself, returned from her walk, and she had a large basked tucked over her arm. She waved at him and jogged the rest of the way.
"I found raspberries!" she signed when she was close enough. "A whole ton of them!"
His mouth fell open in dismay once he got a good look at her. "Did you pick them or go to war with them?! Kai, you're bleeding!"
"What? Oh." She frowned down at a long, thin scratch on her arm. "Yeah, it got a little rough. I'm fine, though. Do you want raspberry muffins? I could probably make raspberry jam, too! You're gonna be so goddamn sick of raspberries."
He set his book aside and pushed himself to his feet. Helped her up onto the deck and took the basket from her. "Why don't you go get in the shower, then meet me back out here so I can do something about all…this." He made a gesture that encompassed most of her body, because there was very little exposed skin that didn't have at least one scratch.
She gave a long-suffering sigh. "Fine, mom. Put those in a colander to start rinsing, and I'll be back in like ten minutes. Hey, are you wearing sunscreen?"
His mouth quirked. "Yes, mom. Ten minutes. I'll be waiting."
Once inside she dropped her clothes in the bathroom hamper and took the quickest shower she could. She was glad Nick couldn't hear the little yelps, whimpers, and hisses she made from the hot water and soap as they hit her (multiple) wounds. She hadn't realized it was that bad until each and every one of them felt like it was on fire. Smarty pants bossy face Nick Andros, she thought with a good-natured scowl.
She ran a comb through her wet hair and tossed on a pair of cutoffs and a tank top, the same outfit she'd had on during her raspberry run, so that none of the scratches would be covered up.
He was waiting for her on the deck as promised. He'd moved the chairs and spread out a towel, and he sat cross-legged reading that Nora Roberts book. The one that made her want to open a pub in Ireland. She was surprised he liked it, what with the lack of bodice-ripping.
He waved her over and she saw that he had the first aid kit and the jar of her honey ointment. "Can I just spread this on?" he said. "Or will that make a mess?"
"Mess," she said. "Also attract every bee in a two-mile radius. You can spread it on some bandages, and use it to stick them to me. No need for tape."
"Good idea." He studied her a moment through his dark sunglasses. Took them off and indicated that she should turn around. She did, and he tugged the hem of her shorts to have her sit.
There was a deep scratch that started on the back of one shoulder and extended across the opposite shoulder blade. He started with that one, carefully tugging the straps of her bra and her top down so he could get to all of it. He dabbed gently at the inflamed skin with a hydrogen peroxide-soaked cotton ball, and once the fizzing stopped, he cut a bit of gauze the right size, smeared some of the honey ointment onto it, and pressed it against the scratch.
She stayed steady throughout, and when he tapped her shoulder she flashed him a thumbs up. Next he went for a smaller one along the back of her arm. Her skin was so soft it was distracting, and this close the smell of her mint and rosemary soap and green tea and honey shampoo enveloped him in familiar sweetness.
He finished what he was doing and hesitated a moment. The tattoo between her shoulder blades peeked up above the edge of her tank top, and he was intrigued. He ran the pad of his thumb over it, and her head turned, eyebrow lifted.
"No scratches there," she signed with one hand.
"No. I'd like to see it sometime, though. If you'd like to show it to me."
She scooted around to face him and pulled her knees up almost to her chest. "It's not a secret. Come swimming with me sometime and you can get a good, long look at it."
He made a face. He couldn't swim and didn't have much desire to learn, but that didn't stop her from trying. "I'll…keep thinking about it."
"You do that. You know where to find me if you change your mind."
"Right here, getting coated in honey because you declared war on a raspberry cane." He tapped her knee and she stretched out her legs with an annoyed sigh.
"I didn't declare war on it. It declared war on me. I was just innocently picking raspberries." She chewed her lip for a moment. "But maybe next time I should consider a more suitable uniform."
His brow quirked in agreement. He draped her legs over his and tugged her closer, until she was nearly in his lap. Her hand fell to his bare shoulder (he wore an undershirt and his usual dark trousers) to steady herself, and he cupped her face in his palm. For a moment her pulse fluttered in an odd state of anticipation, from the heat of his breath and the intense concentration as he studied her. She dipped her head toward the spot where his long neck curved into his shoulder and took a deep breath to absorb the smell of his warm skin. The fingers of her other hand curled into his shirt and she tried to keep her breathing even. His lips parted and his good eye focused on hers and for just a second she watched pupil swallow deep, dark brown—but then he pressed a cotton ball to her cheek and she winced, and the moment was broken.
"Sorry," he mouthed, with a sympathetic grimace.
She shook her head as much as she was able with him holding her in place. "It's fine," she mouthed back. "Don't stop."
Her breath was a warm whisper across his skin and he suppressed a shiver. He had a job to do, and he couldn't get distracted by the images those two little words put into his head. He finished with the cotton ball and leaned back to reach for the gauze, but then paused.
"I don't think I need to bandage your face, do I?"
"Maybe just dab a little honey onto it. I don't want it to leave a scar."
"No?" He tapped the crescent-shaped scar under his good eye. "And here I thought you were copying me."
"It does lend you a certain roguish charm," she said. "Not sure I'd look quite so pretty, though."
His head tilted thoughtfully as he used the pad of his thumb to spread the ointment up and down the scratch on her cheek. "While it's true deaf-mute men are, as a rule, exceptionally pretty, you give me a decent run for my money. And you've got great legs."
She let out a surprised laugh and shoved him away. "Get off, Andros, I'll do the rest myself."
"Okay, okay!" he said. "You're exceptionally pretty too!"
"Too late, damage done, no more playing doctor for you!" She started to stand, but he pulled her back down and held up a finger to silence her protests.
"Let me at least get this one," he said and tapped her chest just above the scratch. "It'll be hard for you to see."
It started near her collarbone on the right side and sloped down to end just below the edge of her tank top on the left. "Fuck," she said with a glower. "My tit!"
"A definite attempted kill shot."
"Maybe I was trying to copy you."
He frowned and dampened a new cotton ball. "Maybe next time copy my sunny and jubilant personality and leave my many injuries for someone else, okay?"
"Good idea." She tilted her head back to give him better access, but then dropped her chin to pin him with a look. "Are you sure this isn't just an excuse to try to cop a feel?"
He put on his most affronted expression. "I would never!"
Mock skepticism lifted her brow and tilted her mouth.
"If I wanted to cop a feel, I'd just ask," he said.
Her eyes narrowed. "What makes you think I'd say yes?"
He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "You wouldn't. Not today." His lips curved in that lazy half-smile. "That's why I'm not asking."
Her mouth quirked in reply. "Smart boy," she said. She lifted her chin again and shook back her hair. "Get on with it, then. The spoils of war await, and I'm thinking raspberry sorbet."
July 12
Though she no longer rose before dawn, she still got up earlier than he did, and so it was no surprise that he was still asleep as the sun rose high and strong in the morning sky. But she was impatient, and it was nearly nine, and as grumpy as he could be when she woke him up, she thought maybe it would be worth it.
She set the full mug of coffee on the bedside table and stood studying him a moment as he slept. His dark curls were a tousled halo that needed trimming. The bruises on his face were gone, and the cut had healed well. His eye was still bandaged, but his thigh wasn't, and the scar there was pink and healthy-looking.
He'd filled out some in the last two weeks. She couldn't count his ribs anymore, and the planes on his face had softened and eased. She reached for his shoulder, to awaken him, but at the last minute pulled back. She loved touching him, the familiarity that had grown between them in the last two weeks, but she knew she was treading dangerous territory. One wrong step and she'd fall, or he would, and that would be that.
She shook off her worries and leapt onto the bed. The mattress squeaked beneath her and he bounced a good inch or so off of it. His mouth opened in a silent cry of surprise, and when he saw her his good eye narrowed.
"What the fuck?!" he signed once he had his bearings. "I thought it was an earthquake."
"Nope!" she said. "Just a tsunami." She grinned. "Get it?"
He glared at her. "Yeah. You're hilarious. What time is it?"
"Almost nine, Nick. I've been waiting for like two hours!" She sat down and crossed her legs. "I have a surprise for you. Two surprises!"
That perked him up a little, but only a little. "I hope one of them is coffee."
She sighed. "Okay, three surprises." She reached behind her for the mug and waved it under his nose. "Surprise number one, as requested."
He took it with a grimace of thanks and swallowed several long gulps despite the temperature. As he lowered the mug he read it and rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help the brief grin that broke through.
"Your favorite," she said, and tapped the handle of the mug.
"Sure, right. Thanks."
The stupid, ugly mug said NUMBER ONE FISHERMAN in huge red letters, and it had become something of a joke between them. She'd been trying to teach him to fish for over a week now, but it just wouldn't take. They'd set up by the lake, in the sun or the shade, and she'd start casting her line and reeling in fish both big (to keep) and small (to throw back), and inevitably he'd fall asleep. Doze right off like an old man. He'd often wake to her smearing sunscreen on his nose, or sometimes poking him in the shoulder and handing him the full basket to carry back to the house.
He had some of his best naps on those fishing trips, and it amused her far more than it annoyed her. She'd found the mug buried in the back of the cabinet sometime last week, and it had been his ever since. Neither of them thought Doc Soames would mind.
He set the coffee aside after draining nearly half of it. "Do you think I could pee before surprise number two? I don't know how surprising it is, and I'd hate to embarrass myself."
"Yeah, go ahead." She waved him toward the bathroom. "But hurry! I'm dying here!"
"Yes, ma'am. Hurrying, ma'am!" He gave her a mock salute and rolled out of bed. Even now he delighted in how easy it was to do something simple like walk to the bathroom. Two weeks ago she'd had to help him get anywhere, and for the first few days he'd barely moved from the bed except to pee and, once, take a bath.
By the time he returned she was practically bouncing with impatience. He gave her a lazy grin and climbed up to sit across from her. "Okay, I'm ready. Surprise me."
"Hold out your hands and close your eyes."
He frowned. "Kai—"
"Humor me. Please?"
He sighed and did as she said, and a moment later something dropped into his spread palms. He opened his good eye to stare down at a little package wrapped in matte navy blue paper and tied off with a gold bow. She'd glued shiny gold moons and stars to the top and everything. How long had she been awake?
"What is it?" he said.
"Open it and find out, silly."
He gave the pretty package a dubious look. "Can I rip the paper?"
"Of course you can. It's your present."
He carefully untied the bow and tore through the elegant wrapping to find a little white box, like maybe from a jewelry store. He glanced up at her, then back down at the box, before he opened the lid and pulled out what was inside.
She watched him with anticipation, but at the last minute quailed. What if he hated it? What if he thought she was making fun of him?
"It's an eye patch," she said. "I thought—I mean—I figured—you can't keep wearing a bandage, you know? I thought this would be more comfortable and, hey, pirates are cool, right?" She chewed her lower lip as he sat studying it in silence. She couldn't read his expression, and she worried she'd made a huge mistake.
He ran a finger across the buttery soft leather patch. Flipped it over to study the red silk that lined it. There was something padded between the two, so it would sit comfortably over his eye. The strap was adjustable. He squinted, turning it this way and that, and at last he looked at her.
"Where did you get this?"
"I—I made it. I got the materials at that fabric store in town and I've been working on it the past few mornings while you slept. If you hate it, I can—"
He grabbed one of her hands to stop her. Squeezed it gently as he broke into a slow, beaming smile. "I love it, Kai. You made this? For me?"
Her own mouth quirked. "Well yeah. The only ones I could find were, like, plastic. Halloween costumes. That might work in a pinch, but not longterm. I know the light hurts it, and everything's all shitty and blurry, so I just wanted—you to be comfortable."
"I didn't even know you could sew."
"Oh, I can't. Not really. God, you should see all my failed attempts. I can keep working on it if this one doesn't fit right or it's uncomfortable or anything."
He offered it to her. "Put it on me and let's find out."
She blushed a little and took it from him. "Okay, um, lean closer. So I can reach around your big ol' head."
He shot her a wry look and did as she said. First she carefully peeled away the bandage over his eye. He winced; the tape had started to make raw places on his skin, and she frowned when she saw it. "I'll put something on it later," he said.
She gave a distracted nod and studied him a moment, then ran her fingers through his hair to settle it, but it was a hopeless cause.
"I should cut some of this," she said.
"No way. I've seen how you cut hair."
"Ouch, Andros. Low blow. Fine, cut it yourself."
"Then you wouldn't have any excuse to mess with it all the time," he said with a little grin.
She lifted a brow. "I'm sure I could figure something out. Okay, sit still. I don't wanna poke your eye out the rest of the way." She looped the patch around his head and settled it into place. Fiddled with the adjustment thingie until he gave her a thumbs up.
"How does that feel?" she said.
He wiggled it more firmly into place and ran his fingers over it. Frowned. "Strange. Different. It'll take some getting used to." Some of the tension in his shoulders eased. "But better than the bandage. Much better. I can't believe you made this for me."
She shrugged. "You needed it."
"Yeah, but still. Thank you. It's a great surprise."
She tilted her head in embarrassed acknowledgement. "Well good. I'm glad you like it. Go check yourself out in the mirror, see what you think."
"You said three surprises."
"I did! Surprise number three won't be ready until tonight, though, so you'll just have to wait."
"Wow!" He staggered back and pressed a hand to his chest. "Wow, way to yank the rug out from under me. Have pity, I'm only just back on my feet."
"Drama queen. Hurry up and get dressed. I want pancakes!"
They'd both agreed his pancakes were better than hers, though he used her sourdough starter to make them. She was too impatient, flipped them too soon and too many times. For him the act of pouring the batter and waiting for the bubbles to appear, pop, and stay was meditative. Zen and the art of breakfast.
She hopped off the bed and bounded for the door, then stopped to cast a look over her shoulder. "I like it," she said. She smirked. "But then I've always had a thing for pirates."
Once in the bathroom he decided he liked it, too. It did make him look like a pirate, especially with his wild hair and scruffy beard. He rubbed his chin and thought about shaving, but decided against it. It was too much trouble to do every day, and besides, he looked sixteen without facial hair.
They had pancakes, then washed the dishes together. After that was yoga, then a shower, and he settled onto the couch to read. He'd finished the Nora Roberts, and now he had a real bodice-ripper going, and he needed to know if the virtuous deb would succumb to the roguish duke's charms, or marry the cute-but-boring prince.
Kai appeared from the bedroom with her hair in braids. She wore a t-shirt over her bathing suit and had a towel tossed over her shoulder. "Swim?"
"I don't swim, Kai. You know that."
"A girl can keep trying, can't she?" She smiled and circled the couch to wrap her arms around him from behind. He took her hand and kissed the center of her palm. She gave him a squeeze, pressed her lips to his temple, and ruffled his hair.
"I think she should choose the prince," she signed.
He craned his head back to look at her, expression incredulous. "Go away. We don't allow nonsense in this house."
"A strict nonsense-free zone?"
"Exactly. Take your nonsense outside where it belongs." He shooed her toward the door and she went, flashing him a laughing grin before she slipped out into the sunshine.
He watched her pick her way across the yard and out onto the dock. She paused at the end of it, a small figure silhouetted against the bright water, to drop her towel and shed her shirt. She stretched a little, then disappeared from view as she dove in.
He sighed and settled back into his book, but he was distracted. Maybe he should let her teach him how to swim. How hard could it be? Dogs could do it. Newborn babies could do it. Somewhere along the way he'd lost the knack, but maybe it was like riding a bike.
Eventually he gave up trying to read and set the book aside. Crossed his arms over his chest and dozed. Naps didn't usually bring dreams, or at least not the big ones, and so his sleep was easy and peaceful, and he didn't wake until she tousled his hair again.
His eye opened slowly, because for a moment he savored the mineral-and-loam scent of lake water that clung to her skin and tangled in her hair. When he finally looked at her she smiled and settled down on the coffee table.
"Morning, sunshine," she said.
"Hey. What time is it?"
"Next gift I'm getting you is a watch."
He rubbed his wrist with a rueful frown. The tan line there had faded. "I had one. Booth and his boys stole it."
"Sorry, kid. Next time we go into town we'll find you a new one. Maybe something fancy. I don't think they traffic much in Rolexes around here, but I'm sure we can find something up to your discriminating standards."
"Why would I need that when I can just ask you?"
"I don't know. I might accidentally shoot myself and be in and out of fever-driven delirium for several days. Shit happens."
He considered that a moment. "Good point. We'll see what we can find."
"Smart man." She rose and handed him his book. "Shower for me, then maybe Scrabble?"
He nodded, then knocked on the table to get her attention. "You never told me the time."
"Sure I did, bud. Time for you to get a watch." He threw his book at her, but she just skipped away with a laugh. "You walked right into that one. I'm not even sorry."
Notes:
Obviously a lot of heavy shit happens over the course of The Stand, so these interlude chapters are my attempt at injecting a bit o' levity between heaviness. Consider it your creamy center of goodness before they have to rejoin the scariness of the real world.
Chapter 13: Bittersweet
Summary:
Nick finally gets Kai to open up about her past.
Notes:
You know shit's gettin' serious when I break out the Hozier.
Chapter Text
my babe would never fret none
about what my hands and body done
if the lord don't forgive me
i'd still have my baby and my babe would have me
Hozier, "Work Song"
She waited until after dinner to unveil the third surprise. They ate leaning next to each other at the kitchen island like a couple of savages who'd never heard of tables and chairs, and after they stacked their dishes in the sink she sent him to wait on the couch. She didn't make him close his eyes this time, and when she appeared from the kitchen she carried a small tray that she set on the coffee table with a flourish.
"Tada! Chocolate mousse to celebrate two weeks with no attacks, maimings, or other life-threatening injuries! I'm so proud of you!"
He stared at her a moment before he dropped his face into his hands. His shoulders shook, and when he lifted his head again his face was red. He was trying desperately to glare at her, but he couldn't stop laughing. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"It's your favorite, right? I thought such a special and momentous occasion deserved the best."
"Is this just jell-o pudding in fancy glasses?"
She looked insulted. "It's chocolate mousse, Nicholas! I made this. From scratch. This morning while you were sound asleep."
"It's mean to tease me about something so serious."
"I would never," she said. She scooped up a bite and offered him the spoon. "Have a taste. I'm about a whole lot more than bread and muffins, baby."
"That I do know." He took the spoon and popped into his mouth. The rich, creamy chocolate exploded over his tongue and he closed his eyes in bliss. "Holy shit. Wow."
"Good?" she said. Her expression was anxious, which didn't surprise him. She knew how good she was, but still she doubted.
He spooned up a bite and waved it her way. "Try it and find out."
She reached for the spoon but he pulled it back. She glared at him. He grinned. She let out a brief sigh, rolled her eyes, and leaned forward, lips parted. He started toward her, but then at the last minute veered away and ate the bite himself.
"Rude!" she said, laughing. "That was mine!"
"Oh, I thought we were sharing."
"Then share, butthead."
"Butthead?! That's how you ask me to share?!"
A huff. "I'm sorry, dear Nick, that I called you a butthead. Both your head and your butt are lovely, and very very separate. Now may I please have a bite of the chocolate mousse I worked so hard to make? Because if you're not going to share I'll just take mine and go home."
He pretended to think it over. "Yeah, okay," he said. "Close your eyes."
"What?"
"You made me do it this morning. Close your eyes."
Something in his face made her pulse do a funny skippy thing, but after a moment she did as he said. She heard the spoon scrape the glass, but then instead of feeling cool metal against her lip, she felt the gentle brush of his finger. She opened her eyes as he pulled away and licked chocolate from his thumb, and the blood rushed to her cheeks.
He smirked at her, the slow lazy one that always got to her. "Got something on your lip there."
She touched her tongue to the bit of chocolate and the pupil went big in his good eye. They watched each other, the space between them filled with everything they'd spent the last two weeks avoiding. Everything she'd been so careful about.
"You missed some," he said.
She lifted her brows in a question and leaned closer. He touched his fingertip to the center of her lower lip, then slid his hand around to tangle gently in her hair. Her breath left in a soft rush and her eyes closed as he rubbed his thumb over her full mouth. Her chin lifted in invitation and she started to sign something, but he took one of her hands in his free one to stop her. His nose brushed hers and just before their lips met she jerked away.
"Stop. Please," she signed.
His brow creased in confusion. Had he completely misread what was happening? She'd wanted him to kiss her. She'd done that head lift thing. She'd leaned in and closed her eyes and he knew he wasn't imagining things. "What's wrong?" he said.
"I shouldn't have—" Her hands fluttered as she cast around for the words. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have." She rose and started toward the bedroom, but he followed her. Tapped her arm and turned her back to face him. He kept his touch gentle, easy enough that she could pull away if she wanted to, but she didn't resist.
"Am I crazy?" he said. He scrubbed through his hair and lifted his hands in a confused shrug. "Is that the problem? Because if it is, okay, I accept that. Tell me I completely misread the signs, that I've been misreading the signs practically since the moment we met, that I misunderstood everything on the deck the other night, and I'll accept that and we'll move on like this never happened. You know I'm not trying to push you into something you don't want."
"I know that," she said. "You wouldn't do that."
"Okay, then?" She said nothing, just looked away and wrapped her arms around herself like she wanted to shrink and disappear. "I'm not mad," he signed, with less urgency than before. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her. "I just want to understand."
"There's nothing to understand, Nick. No, you didn't misread anything. At no point have you misunderstood me. But that doesn't change anything."
He frowned. "Kai, please, help me out here. You're saying…you did want…what almost just happened to happen?"
She threw out her hands in frustration. "Yes! Yes, I wanted you to kiss me. I've been wanting you to kiss me. I've been wanting to kiss you!"
"Then I'm not sure I get the problem."
"It's me!" She jabbed herself in the chest. "I'm the problem!"
He was beginning to see what this was about, but she had to be one to bring it up. He couldn't push her or she'd just run off and clam up and all the walls they'd torn down between them in the last few weeks would be back again, stronger and higher than ever. "How could you possibly be the problem?"
She spun away with her face buried in her hand, and when she turned again tears glimmered in her eyes. "Do you know what Flagg said to me in that dream? The one I had the night you woke up?"
He knew that she, like him, had finally met Flagg that night, and he knew he'd made her an offer. Nick had told her some of what Flagg had said to him, minus anything about her, but she'd stayed mostly quiet. Now he gave a slow shake of his head. "Tell me."
"He said…he offered to make me a queen. Not his queen, because virginity is apparently a requirement for that position, but a queen. He told me I belong with him, not with Mother Abagail."
"And you believed that? He's full of shit, Kai! He told me"—he gritted his teeth a moment, unsure, but then carried on—"that I could have you. That he would give you to me, like—like some sort of—concubine or something!"
That brought her up short. She hesitated, brow crinkling and smoothing as she contemplated. "And you said no?"
"Of course I did. Why the fuck would I want that? Yes, Christ, I want you. He's not wrong about that. But I want you, not some weird fake slave version of you. That's a fucking nightmare idea!"
That seemed to confuse her completely. "I don't understand."
He sighed and his anger drained away. He'd never been mad at her to begin with; just this whole frustrating, stupid, fucked-up mess they were in. He took a hesitant step closer, but didn't try to touch her. "Which part?" he said.
She shook her head. A tear fell from her lashes and slipped down her cheek. "I'm a mess, Nicky. A mess worthy of playing queen to the devil. Or some weird version of him, anyway. Wouldn't it be easier to have me—the way he offered? Rather than like this?"
He smiled, soft and sweet. "Of course it would, but why the hell would I want easy? You're worth the work, Kai. All the best things in life are." He waved toward the table, then at this own face. "Like homemade chocolate mousse or hand-sewn eyepatches."
She crossed her arms again and fought off a shiver. "You don't know me as well as you think you do."
"Then tell me," he said. "I know you're afraid, but I'm not."
"No." She turned away, and this time when he stopped her he wasn't quite as gentle.
"Kai, just tell me. I'm not going anywhere. Do you get that? Whatever it is, I'm staying put."
She swiped at her cheek and poked him in the chest. "You're a runner. You told me that yourself. What would keep you from running now?"
"You!" He jabbed his finger at her and lifted his arms to emphasize it. "You, goddammit! I finally found what I needed to stick around, and it's you! So tell me whatever it is that's got you so tied up in knots, and then we'll figure out what happens next. I'm done running, Kai, and you're not going to change my mind about it!"
It was clear that she wanted to believe him, but the need to guard her secrets was so deeply ingrained he wasn't sure he was getting through. Finally she closed her eyes and slumped against the wall. He waited. She lifted her hands and began to sign.
"When I was fourteen my parents died. I was sent to live with my biological father, and while my Grandmère was alive it wasn't too bad. He drank too much and yelled at me a lot, but life's a bitch." She looked at him then, watching his face to study his reaction.
"She passed not long after I turned sixteen. Things got much, much worse after that."
"You said he was abusive," he said.
She nodded. Bit her lip. "He escalated, first to constant insults. Vile things sometimes, like that I was a slut and a whore…that's the clean version." A brief sigh. "Then hitting, though not very often, because if I showed up to school bruised and battered people would start to talk. It…got bad…when he started coming into my room sometimes when he was really drunk."
His face changed, and she held up a hand.
"Not that bad. He never actually touched me. He just—said things. And…well. He never touched me, and I was grateful for that, but it seemed like it was only a matter of time until things changed. Maybe he was waiting for something, I don't know."
"But then he died."
Their eyes met. She lifted her chin and straightened up from the wall. "Yes," she signed, crisp and businesslike. "Because I killed him."
He waited for her to continue, but when she didn't he lifted his hands in a shrug. "Okay."
She blinked. "That's your response? Okay?!"
"What else do you want me to say, Kai? You told me you wanted me to kiss you—"
"Well, yes, but—"
"And that you're desperate to kiss me—"
"Nobody said desperate!"
"And now you're saying you can't because you killed your abusive father." He made a brief gesture of frustration. "He belittled you. He hit you, and eventually it sounds like he would've—" He broke off and clenched his fists, then relaxed them. "He would've raped you. Sounds like you did what you had to do to protect yourself."
Her mouth fell open. "Nick—"
"What if it were the other way around?"
"What?"
He waved his hand. "What if I told you that when I was a vulnerable kid who just lost his parents, I was sent to live with a man I'd never met who abandoned my mom when she was pregnant with me because he was afraid I might be born…flawed. This complete stranger was cruel to me, and the only person who offered me any sort of comfort or safety died, and I was stuck with him. He beat me. He was sexually inappropriate. He said horrible things to me on the regular. So I killed him, because I was trapped and there was no other way out. What would you say to me?" He thrust his finger at her, and then hard into his own chest to emphasize the you and then the me.
"It's not—" She gave a hard shake of her head. "It's not the same!"
"How?! How is it not the same, Kai? What makes you so goddamn special?!"
She surged toward him. "What the fuck does that mean?!"
"It means you're so hellbent on being a martyr to your own past that you refuse to accept there might be any other way. What did you think I was going to say when you told me? That I hate you? That you disgust me? Is that what you said to me back in Jane Baker's bathroom?!" His signs were rough and fast, infused with his fury and passion.
"That is not the same!"
"How the fuck do you think anyone I've ever told has reacted before you?! It hasn't been that many, but a few. Some of them freaked out immediately, and a couple others acted cool but then got weird. No one. No one has just accepted it!" He broke off and drew in an uneven breath. "Until you."
"It just—Nick it's—" She scrubbed her face with both hands. "It was just sex work, Nick. You have…a skill…and you used it. You also worked on farms and as a line cook and on a cargo barge in Lake Michigan."
"You shot Ray Booth."
"To save your life!"
"Okay! You killed your dad to save yours. It's the same thing."
"I planned it! I put digitalis in his bottle of Jack and draped a blanket over his shitty old space heater, then I went to work." She chewed her thumbnail. "The ME said he didn't inhale any smoke, so he was already dead before the fire started. They ruled it a heart attack and I got a really big life insurance payout."
He lifted a brow. "Bonus."
"It's not funny, Nick!"
"It is a little bit! Kai, for fuck's sake, you really let Randall fucking Flagg convince you that you belong on the Dark Side because you killed someone who really fucking deserved it to stop him from hurting you?! Come on."
He reached for her, but she knocked his hands away. "It wasn't just him! Maybe I do belong—on the Dark Side." Her shoulders slumped. "Maybe Mother Abagail is wrong."
He mulled that over. "Then maybe she's wrong about me, too."
"Don't be ridiculous," she said with a snort.
He just looked at her. She glared back. He dipped his head to hide a smile, because he was afraid she might cut it off if she saw it. He stepped closer and cupped her face in his hands. Her eyes were wide but otherwise steady. He rubbed his thumb over her mouth, something he didn't think he'd ever get tired of doing.
He leaned in, moving slowly so that she could stop him again if she wanted to. But this time she didn't. He pressed a kiss to one corner of her mouth, then the other. Her lips parted on a breath that he caught and gave back to her and then his mind blanked because there was nothing but her: kissing her, tasting her, the softness of her skin and the heat of her mouth.
Her fingers tangled in the curls at the back of his neck and his hand slipped down to her waist to pull her against him.
He tasted sweet, and a little bitter, like the fine chocolate she'd used in the mousse. His lips were unbelievably soft, and he kept the kiss easy and gentle. It felt like the first day of spring after a long winter: stepping into the sunshine and shrugging off all the old and dull for the new and bright.
When he finally broke it she tried to pull him back for more, but he leaned away. She frowned. "Is something wrong?"
"No," he said. He let go of her and took two steps back. Tucked his hair behind his ear. "No, everything's—it's perfect. That was…perfect."
Her frown deepened. "Okay, then…? What's happening?"
It took every ounce of self control he'd ever had not to grab her and kiss her until they were both breathless and drunk and…well, naked—but he knew he couldn't. Instead he took a deep breath and hoped she would understand. "Do you remember what you told me about how you sometimes use sex to escape from feeling your emotions?"
Her jaw dropped. "Who said anything about sex?"
He just looked at her, brows raised.
She let out a huff of irritation. "You are real fucking sure of yourself for a guy who keeps pissing me off."
He smiled and stepped closer again. Ran his knuckles along the line of her jaw and up the curve of her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into the touch and she was incredibly glad he couldn't hear the hungry little noise she made. He seemed to know anyway, based on the glint of amusement in his eye.
"I don't want you to be running from anything when you're with me, Kai," he said.
A line of consternation formed between her brows, but at last she nodded. "I don't want to be running, either." She bit her lip. "You really—weren't tempted? By his offer?"
"For a split second. Before I realized what he meant. Once I did—no. I wasn't at all. I wouldn't want anyone—like that. But you?" He shuddered. "I told him"—he gave a rough chuckle at the memory—"that you're the ocean, and he was offering me a puddle."
Her breath left in a rush and color flooded her cheeks. "Ohh."
He grinned, good eye twinkling. "Right?"
She swatted his arm. "Don't ruin it!"
"Sorry, sorry!" His expression sobered. "It's true, though. And I promise it's not because I've imprinted on you like a baby duck."
"I know it's not," she said with a wince. "It's just—Sandra Bullock told Keanu Reeves that relationships based on intense circumstances never work out, and she was right, because by Speed 2 they were over and she was on that cruise all by herself. I mean, sure, Jason Patric was there, but—"
He took her hands in his and kissed the center of each palm. "You're right, and so was she, but I know how I feel. So trust me, okay? Please?"
"I do trust you. You're the only person I've ever told about my father. You couldn't have pried it out of me with the jaws of life if I didn't trust you."
"But you thought it would make me hate you."
She lifted her hands in a dismal shrug. "Sarah would've hated me, I think."
He sighed. "Kai, no offense, but from everything you've told me, Sarah was a judgmental—" He broke off with a scowl.
"Judgmental bitch, it's okay, you can say it. She was. Not always in a bad way, but…yeah. It was part of why I fell in love with her, to be honest. But then one day I realized I wasn't in some special excluded from Sarah's judgment club."
"So you banged the chef."
Her lips quirked, ruefully. "It was well before I banged the chef, but it's definitely part of why."
He studied her a moment. Then, "I'm not the chef, Kai."
She blinked, confused. "I know that. Of course you aren't."
"You aren't either."
"That's not…I never thought—"
"You. Aren't. Either," he said again, each word emphatic and firm.
"Nick—of all the things I've worried about, you fucking me to avoid actually having to break up with your judgmental ex is not one of them. And that's not the only reason I slept with Remy. He was very tall. And hot. And had a really big—"
"Okay!" He held up a hand. "I don't need to know about that."
"I was going to say record collection, but sure, make it dirty."
"Okay, well, I don't want you for your record collection, either."
"Good, because I left it in Abilene. Can we please go have our mousse now? It's going to get warm."
"Yes, yeah, just one—" He reached for her, but she was quicker. She stepped into him, took his face in her hands, and pulled him down for a long, slow kiss. His breath was warm against her mouth and he squeezed her hips with both hands and she pressed against him with a quiet sigh. The kiss deepened, turned hotter and hungrier, and his tongue slipped across her lower lip, but she pulled away with a gasp.
"Behave, Andros, or no dessert for you."
He smirked, buried both hands in her hair, and tugged her back to him. This time her lips parted in invitation and his tongue dipped between them to slide over hers slow and slick and sensuous. They fell against each other and her fingers plunged into his dark curls and his palms traced the smooth lines of her back. The taste of her, the heat of him—she pulled him with her as she leaned against the wall and he went, pressing his body full-length into hers and gripping her hips to tilt her even closer.
The kiss broke long enough for her to gasp out his name, something he saw and felt even if he couldn't hear it, and he lost all chance of coherent thought. It was just her, her, her, Kai, like a wave crashing over him and this was just a kiss holy shit what were they getting themselves into?!
When they finally parted they were both wide-eyed, flushed-faced, and panting. They stared at each other, and finally she let out a little laugh as he tugged a hand back through his tousled hair.
"So…mousse?" Except he used the sign for moose because he couldn't remember the other due to the lack of blood reaching his brain.
"Yes," she said with a nod. "That."
He gestured for her to precede him, and after taking a moment to collect himself, he followed her. He believed what he'd said earlier about taking it slow, and he planned to stick by it—but good Christ he was a fucking moron, and it was going to be a long night.
Chapter 14: The Persistence of Memory
Summary:
All smut all the time. At last.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
honey i laugh when it sinks in
a pillar, i am upright
scarcely can speak for my thinking what
you'd do to me tonight
Hozier, "Dinner and Diatribes"
July 14
When he woke that morning she was, of course, already up, but on her pillow was a plate containing one of yesterday's croissants, a pat of butter, and a generous dollop of (seedless, at his request) raspberry jam. He went to the bathroom, then came back to lounge against the pillows and savor the flaky, buttery pastry.
As much as he enjoyed the fruits of it, he hoped yesterday's baking frenzy wouldn't carry over into today. She didn't want to talk about what had happened the other night, and he was okay with that, but rather than just letting him tell her so, she moved like a whirling dervish and didn't give him a chance to say anything at all.
He was, as he'd told her, a patient man, so he let her whirl and clean and bake, and he waited. He thought maybe she'd left the croissant as a sort of peace offering, her way of saying talks were open, so once he finished eating he gathered his plate and went to find her.
The kitchen was empty. He hoped she hadn't gone after raspberries again, or if she had, she'd dressed better. He looked out the back windows and saw the umbrella open at the end of the dock.
Swimming. Oh. So she was avoiding him still.
He glowered at his own reflection in the glass. He wasn't afraid of the water just because he didn't know how to swim. And if he somehow fell in, surely she would come get him. She wasn't mad; just scared, and not of him.
He didn't know how long she'd been out there, but maybe she'd come in soon. She was always relaxed after a swim, and it might be a good time to talk to her. He knew he was being a coward about it, but he ignored the voice in his head and wandered toward the bathroom.
In front of the mirror he scrubbed a hand over his beard and back through his hair.
All of this might go better, he thought, if he didn't look like quite such a ne'er-do-well. He found a pair of scissors in the drawer and stood contemplating for a moment. Then he began to snip.
Kai had begun to consider getting the fuck over it and going back inside when the glint of light off the door's glass as it opened and closed caught her eye. She saw him cross the deck, then lost sight of him where the yard dipped down. He reappeared again where the path ended at the dock, and she thought he might stop there. She knew the free-floating dock made him nervous, but to her surprise he kept walking toward her. His stride was long and determined, the set of his shoulders purposeful.
He paused at the edge of her towel, his tall body throwing her into deeper shadow than the umbrella alone, and she squinted up at him. He was haloed by the bright sun, a silhouette against the blinding sky, but still she could see…
"You trimmed your beard," she signed. Her eyes followed as he knelt in front of her. "And your hair."
He nodded. "It was getting out of control." He ran a hand through it, that familiar, endearing twist-and-tug gesture. "Not too short, is it?"
"No," she said with a brief smile. "It looks great." She meant it, too: he was pretty enough that the beard added to rather than took away from his face, but it had gotten a little overwhelming.
"Good." He frowned and looked out over the water. Now that he was here he wasn't sure what to say. He let his gaze wander from the lake to her, and he didn't bother to hide his interest.
She sat cross-legged watching him study her, her hair wet-but-not-dripping and slicked back from her forehead. Her skin was dry, but her two piece bathing suit—turquoise with red polka dots, and a little red ruffle at each hip—was still damp. She hadn't been out of the water long, and he knew if he leaned closer he would smell it on her skin.
She lifted a brow. "Well?"
His head tilted in a question.
"Did you come out here just to stare at me?"
He lifted his hands in a shrug. "Maybe I did. I like looking at you."
Her mouth quirked. "Okay then."
He settled back onto his ass and drew his knees up to rest his forearms on them. He hooked his hands loosely together and for a long time they just looked at each other. Silently, appraisingly, each thinking the things that were so hard for them to say.
Finally he stirred. "Can I see your tattoo?"
Her expression changed, a subtle tightening around the eyes, but at last she nodded. "Yes. But don't—" She broke off with a frown.
"Don't…?"
"Nothing," she said. "Yes, you can see it."
She started to get up, but he stopped her with a finger on her knee. Instead he pushed to his feet and walked around to kneel behind her. She bent a little, to give him a better view, and he could see the tension in the lines of her back. Why was she so nervous?
The tattoo was a circle between her shoulder blades, just above the bathing suit's strap. It was a wave caught at its crest. The top of it broke the circle, and so did the water at the bottom. It was watercolor, and the chop of the ocean surrounding the wave looked almost liquid. She shifted a little, and something about it caught the light differently. He frowned and leaned closer.
Every instinct screamed for her to stop him, but she didn't. He'd asked her to trust him, and she'd said she did, so now she needed to start acting like it. She closed her eyes and let out a long breath as his fingertips brushed her skin.
He ran his fingers along the curl of the wave, and back down to the water. The ink was masterfully applied to cover a series of round scars, each about the diameter of…
He tapped her shoulder so that she twisted to look at him. "Are these scars what I think they are?"
"As long as you think they're cigarette burns, then yes. It's how he used to wake me up, the nights he came into my room. He always kept it so fucking hot in that house, never let me run the AC, and you know I'm a hot sleeper."
He nodded. Many nights he'd fallen asleep with her curled up against him, both of them under the covers, then woken to find her sprawled on her side of the bed, as far away from him as she could get, with the blankets balled at her feet or shoved in a pile between them.
"I always slept in a tank top and panties, but then he started doing that. So I switched to PJs and lost like ten pounds of water weight. Which he approved of, because he loved to call me fat."
He made a face. "You should've killed him twice."
"Yeah," she said. "Maybe so." She smiled a little and turned away again, and so she was surprised when she felt the soft, warm brush of his mouth against her skin. He kissed each little round scar with a gentle tenderness that made her tremble. Before she could gather herself to look at him again, he scooted around so that he was in front of her.
His eyes stayed steady on her face as he took her hand in his and kissed the scar that ran from base of her thumb down to her wrist, where she'd cut herself trying to carve a pumpkin for pie. He cupped her face and pressed his lips to the scar on her forehead she'd had since she was two. He kissed down the scratch on her cheek from the raspberries. He paused and tapped a finger against the pale line along her chin that stretched nearly to her lower lip.
"I was fourteen," she said. "During Katrina. The wind blew out a window and the glass cut my face. We were on the way to the hospital. That's how my parents drowned."
His brows drew together. "I'm sorry."
She shook her head. "I don't mind it. I'd never forget them anyway, but somehow it's still a reminder. They loved me that much. They took that risk for me."
He kissed that one even more softly than the others, like a gentle whisper, then moved to a teardrop shaped scar on her shoulder.
"Chicken pox," she said. "Sixth grade."
He skimmed his lips along the scratch on her chest. One on her arm. He moved slowly, deliberately, giving her plenty of time to stop him if she needed to. Each kiss was a worshipful communiqué that rested on her skin like a spark, and she hoped he never stopped.
He ran his hands down her thighs and she stretched her legs out on either side of him. His thumb brushed an old scar on her knee, and he bent her leg to study it.
"We went to the beach when I was in fourth or fifth grade," she said. "I was playing on some rocks and slipped."
He grimaced in sympathy and kissed it like he had all the others. His eye caught on one on her abdomen, and his head tilted in a question.
Her mouth quirked. "Gallbladder removal when I was twenty-two. Laparoscopically." She had to sign it with lasers because she didn't know the sign and didn't know how to spell it. "The other scars pretty much faded, but I used to sleep on my stomach, so that one took longer to heal."
His eye met hers again, a careful appraisal, before he gently pushed her back onto the towel. Her heart pounded and every part of her felt electrified as he moved up from between her knees to kiss the small mark. He lingered a moment. Kissed it again, and brushed over it with his tongue. She let out a breath that he felt leave her, and he looked up with that lazy, knowing half-smile.
He started to move higher, clearly intent on her mouth, but she stopped him. "You missed one," she said.
He lifted a brow, and she dropped her hand to rest on her right side, just above her pubic bone. The area was covered by her bathing suit. "Appendix. Second grade."
"Do you have any extraneous organs left?"
"Nope, tonsils are gone too. I'm streamlined."
He grinned and dipped his head to kiss a line down her belly to the edge of her bathing suit. He tugged it down just far enough to expose the scar, then dropped three soft kisses from end to end. He looked up at her with a questioning expression.
"I think that's got it. Now please come up here and kiss me before I lose my mind."
He grinned again, wider this time, and moved up so that his lips hovered over hers. Their noses brushed. She ran her fingers up his neck to tangle in his hair. His pulse pounded against the heel of her hand. They could each feel the other's breath on their skin, against their lips, as their gasps grew desperate and uneven in the rising anticipation. The heat between them sizzled like a lit fuse.
Her stormy eyes were nearly all pupil, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted in an invitation just for him. He wanted her so much he ached, but he couldn't fuck this up. If he did she might not give him another chance, and now that he spent so much time touching her, now that he'd tasted her, he didn't think he could go back to when he didn't, or act like he hadn't.
She moved a little beneath him, an impatient wiggle, and his mouth curved in a teasing smile just before their lips met. He felt her laugh against him and it was like everything fell into place, a series of dominoes toppling in perfect, choreographed order: this was exactly where they were meant to be, here, together, this moment.
He lifted his head to look at her, and she was smiling at him. But at his expression her brows drew together in a question. "Is something wrong?" she signed with one hand.
He shook his head. "No, I just—" He dipped his chin to kiss her chest, the curve of her shoulder. "I don't want to fuck this up."
"Oh." She pushed his shoulder a little so that he rolled away. She turned onto her side and pulled him back so that they were face to face. "I wouldn't worry about that. Your instincts have been pretty spot-on so far."
He grinned. "Yeah?"
She ran her hand up his chest and captured his chin. Held him still while she studied him. His face was so familiar, even after such a short time. Familiar and dear, and while she often found herself confused and adrift in this strange new world, it was always Nick who called her back. Kept her steady. She brushed a curl off his forehead.
"Yeah, Nicky. I trust you. I always have. Maybe I haven't shown it as well as I could have, but it's true."
She kissed him, easy at first, but then deeper. His hand slid over the curve of her hip around to her back and he pulled her even closer. She moved her leg against his, and he slotted his thigh between hers. She tugged at his undershirt and he pulled it over his head and tossed it away, heedless of the water that surrounded them. Her fingers traced the crescent scar above his left nipple, and with a little frown she kissed it, just as he'd done to hers.
After that it seemed like hands were everywhere. He touched every inch of skin he could, and she ran her fingers from the waist of his trousers to his collarbone in a teasing caress. He peeled the strap of her bathing suit down to kiss her shoulder, suck gently at the silky skin, then reached around to undo the clasp. She flipped onto her back to shrug out of it and for a moment he was frozen.
She grinned and ran her finger down the long line of his nose. Tapped the end of it. "Surely you've seen tits before, Mr. Andros."
"One or two," he said, tilting his head back and forth. He knelt between her thighs and stroked a big hand from her bellybutton up, to rest between them. "I guess it's about time I admitted I think you're ridiculously hot."
Her head fell back on a laugh. "Ridiculously?"
He shrugged. "Insanely."
"Wild that two such amazingly hot people ended up apocalypse buddies," she said as she pulled him closer.
He paused, a surprised grin brightening his face. "You think I'm hot?"
"Nick!" Something in his expression told her he was serious, at least in part, so she kissed him softly, each cheek, his nose, and finally his mouth. "Yes," she said. "You're gorgeous, sweetheart. I'll never get tired of looking at you."
He'd had no idea something so sweet and gentle could touch him so deeply, but his breath left in a shaky rush and he wrapped his arms around her to pull her close. Her skin was warm, and she stroked through his hair and down his back. He felt her little gasp as he turned his head to kiss her neck, and her fingers tightened on his shoulders as he worked his way down.
He spent what felt like forever on her breasts, kissing and licking and sucking. He rolled one nipple between his fingers while he worked the other one with his mouth, and then switched, back and forth over and over until they were sensitive and swollen and she was reduced to mindless little whimpers and moans that he could feel in her chest and see whenever he cut his eye up to her face.
He moved up to kiss her, then back down, his hands leading the way as he kissed and nipped a blazing trail to the waistband of her bathing suit. He took a few moments to lavish attention on the soft swell of her belly and generous curve of her hip before he hooked his fingers in the suit and glanced at her.
She gave a drunken nod, her eyes dark with need, and he smirked as he pulled the scrap of cloth over her thighs, past her knees, so that she could kick it away. She was naked now, beautifully, gloriously, perfectly naked, and he couldn't stop touching her smooth skin with lips and hands and tongue.
He lingered at her inner thigh. Teased her with easy kisses and quick little nips. Swirled his tongue against the sensitive skin and sucked a mark that he soothed with more kisses.
Finally he looked up at her, lips curved in that lazy half-smile. "Do you remember when you asked me what I'm into?"
She lifted a brow. "You wouldn't answer me."
"I like to pick my moment." He moved up to kiss her. As their lips met he pressed his hand between her thighs, and she gasped into his mouth. He smirked and lifted the hand to tweak her nipple, tap a finger against her lips. "I'm into making you come, pretty girl. Over. And over. And over."
He kissed her between each over, and by the last one she grabbed double handfuls of his hair to hold him there while her tongue flicked and curled against his, a sensuous tease that had him panting. She released his hair and tapped his shoulder so that he'd turn his head to look as she said, "I love the way you think. It's brilliant. You're brilliant. And we'll for sure do that later. But for now, if you don't fuck me, and fuck me hard, I will throw you in this lake. Understood?"
His breath left in a whoosh, like she'd punched him in the gut, and his forehead dropped to rest against hers. He kissed her a few times, rough and quick. "Are you sure? Before you said—"
"I know what I said. And I'm sure. There are exceptions to every rule." She slid a hand down his chest and undid the button on his trousers. Carefully lowered the zipper and teased him through his boxer briefs, first with just her fingertips, then with the heel of her hand in a long, torturous stroke. He arched into it, his head falling back to expose his long neck to her sucking kisses and swirling tongue.
"Fuck!" he mouthed on a silent breath.
Now it was her turn to smirk. "That's the idea, sweet boy." She squeezed and he squirmed.
"But I really want to taste your pussy," he signed, and his good eye was big and dark and pleading.
"Do you?" She bit her lip. Took his hand and guided it back between her thighs, this time dipping his fingers between her lips. They both shuddered, him from how hot and wet she was, her from how good even that light caress felt, and then moved them back again to her mouth. She sucked one of them clean before offering him the other. He stared at her, wide-eyed and hypnotized, then licked the sweet and smoky taste of her off his fingers.
Her brows lifted in a question, and he nodded like a drunkard. She shoved his trousers and shorts down and left them when they caught on his thighs. He gripped her thighs, his hands rough for the first time, and as his cock pressed against her she gave an eager nod and lifted her hips to match his first thrust.
The dock made an alarming dip and he froze, startled. She touched his face to get his attention. "It's like fucking on a waterbed, babe. Just go with it."
He tried to understand what she was saying, but to him it just seemed like he'd buried himself in her and the world had gone all tilted, which made a weird sort of sense. Dock, he thought. Floating. Waterbed. Oh…
His mouth curved in a wicked grin and he started to move, slowly at first, until he got a handle on how it moved. She mouthed his name, and when he ran his thumb across her swollen lips she caught it between her teeth and smirked at him.
She gave a dismayed gasp when he pulled out completely, but he held up a hand urging patience. He knelt between her legs and pulled her closer, so that her hips were on his thighs and her ankles on his shoulders. He turned his head to kiss her inner ankle and then slid into her slow and easy.
She closed her eyes at the new sensation, the pressure on her g-spot, so fucking good. Her eyes flew open in surprise at the feel of his hand pressed against her clit, the heel of his palm grinding into her so that the delicious heat went deep, as deep as his thick cock inside of her, and she moaned his name in a mindless, drugged litany.
He wanted to make her come more than he'd wanted nearly anything in his life, to feel her go tight around him and watch her face as it happened. He gripped her hip with his free hand and rocked into her. When she closed her eyes again he touched her face so that she looked at him, and after that neither of them looked away.
She was close, so close, and watching his face as he fucked her, the intense concentration on it, the way he caught his lower lip between his teeth and furrowed his brow, stoked the fire higher and hotter. "That's so good," she signed. "So good don't stop you feel so good!"
He smirked, just a little, and began to move the hand against her clit in a slow circle. "Yes!" she cried aloud, and his grin widened. "Gonna come!" she gasped. "Nick, Nicky, fuck!" Her hips bucked and she tightened around him like a velvet vise. He didn't let up and the exquisite, electric sensations rolled over and through her again and again.
She finally started to come down from it, and she looked up at him with a wicked grin. Crooked her finger at him. "Come here."
He stretched out on top of her again and hooked an arm under one of her legs to pull it higher and push himself deeper. She moaned and rocked against him; he kissed down the line of her throat and licked droplets of sweat from her glowing skin.
"Come for me," she breathed. "I want to feel you."
He shuddered: watching her kiss-swollen-and-reddened lips shape those words almost sent him over the edge right then, but he managed to hold on.
"I came sooo hard for you, Nicky. Now it's your turn to come for me."
"Fuck!" he mouthed. His forehead dropped to her shoulder and he thrust once, twice, a third time, hard and fast. She squeezed around him and dug her short nails into his shoulders and that was it. He raised his face so he could watch her as he came, watch her beautiful, brilliant eyes and her familiar, beloved face, and his orgasm hit so hard it left him breathless and weak and he thought it might never end.
Finally his arms gave out and he tumbled against her. She caught him, wrapped her arms around him, and ran her fingers through his hair. Kissed his sweaty temple over and over. They could feel each other's hearts pounding in their chests and they both gasped for air. As minimal brain power began to return, he kissed any bit of her he could reach and stroked his hands up and down her sides.
He rolled away; not because he wanted to, but because they were outside and it was probably 95 degrees and they both needed to cool off a bit before they got heat stroke.
She waved toward the cooler. "Water," she signed. "Have some and share."
He cracked the bottle open with a grateful sigh and chugged a long gulp. He glanced at her, evil glinting in his good eye, and as she reached for it he swerved and poured icy water across her naked body.
She let out a shriek he was glad he couldn't hear, but she was also laughing. She dove at him, cussing a blue streak, but he held the bottle just out of reach. He grinned and lifted a finger. She glared at him. He pointed at her lips, then his. She rolled her eyes in pretend outrage, kissed him, and gestured for the water.
He tilted his head thoughtfully, but at her murderous expression he gave a silent laugh and handed it over.
"You are not as cute as you think you are, Nick Andros," she signed one-handed as she drank.
"Yeah I am. You said so." He stretched out next to her and linked his fingers behind his head and crossed his legs at the ankle, a picture of summertime insouciance, in the nude.
She screwed the cap back on the bottle and set it in the middle of his abdomen, just above his bellybutton, and he hissed at the cold. She looked at him with big, innocent eyes. "Oops," she said.
He knocked the bottle away and grabbed her arm to drag her down so that her body was half draped over his. She gave a yelp of surprise, but he cut it off with a kiss, and felt her little mmm of pleasure against his lips.
"We should go in," she said once the kiss broke. "It's hot out here."
"Not sure my legs work yet," he said with a lazy grin.
Her mouth quirked. "Not sure mine do either, to be honest." She tapped a finger against his sternum. "You might have changed my mind about penetrative sex."
He sketched out a bow from his prone position. "All to serve you, my witchy queen."
"Not a witch. And…" She frowned, and he grimaced as he remembered Flagg's offer.
"I'm sorry. Wasn't thinking. I just meant—I didn't mean—"
She grabbed his hand and kissed the back of his fingers. "It's okay, really. I know you didn't mean—that. But regardless, I'm still not a witch."
He stroked her jaw. "I don't know. Pretty sure you put a spell on me with those eyes and"—he gripped her ass with both hands—"your cutting wit."
She laughed, gave him a light swat on the chest with the back of her hand, and rolled away, onto her back. He slid an arm under her head and she shifted so that she rested on his shoulder. "Nick, you know—we still need to talk about the other night. About—what I told you."
He frowned and turned over to face her. Tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Do we?"
She lifted a brow. "Don't we?"
"You can talk to me about anything, Kai. I'm always here to listen or be a sounding board, whatever you need. So if you need to talk about it, we will. But—I'm good. I meant what I said. And after seeing—" He broke off. A spasm of anger crossed his face. "After seeing your back, combined with everything else you've told me—I am not mourning your father. And I'm not going anywhere. At least not without you."
Her smile was tremulous but hopeful. "That's not just post-orgasmic glow talking, is it?"
He smirked. "No, you goofy idiot. It's me, talking to you. And I say you're stuck with me. So get used to it."
Her face scrunched as she pretended to think it over. "I mean I gueeesss…"
"I just made you come your brains out, and I changed your mind about penetrative sex. Gimme a break here!"
She flashed a mischievous grin. "Maybe changed my mind."
"Ohh, maybe! Well I guess I'll just have to keep trying. See? Stuck with me." He tilted her chin up and leaned in like he was going to kiss her, but at the last minute he veered to the side and blew a raspberry on her shoulder.
She laughed and shoved him away, then pulled him back for a kiss. Her expression sobered as the kiss broke. He ran his thumb over the line between her brows. "We can't stay here much longer," she said.
He sighed, his own face turning grave. "I know."
"The last couple of weeks have been…" She trailed off with a shrug as words failed her.
"I know," he said again. "I don't want to go either."
"But we have to," she said.
He nodded. "The dreams have gotten more urgent."
"I think—" Her eyes focused on some point beyond him. They narrowed thoughtfully. "I think others are on their way. But for some reason she's waiting on us, specifically."
"I get that impression too." He hauled in a breath and wrapped his arms around her a moment. Rested his chin on her head and just held her. Then, "A few more days?"
"A few more. Then we have to move on." She disentangled herself from him and stood. Slipped her feet into her shoes and cast him a long look over her shoulder. "I'm going inside," she said. "Care to join me?"
He sat up, undeniably interested. Especially since she was still naked. "Got any plans once you get in there?"
"I don't know. Shower, maybe? I got all sweaty, and my hair smells like lake water." She bit her lip. "Feel free to join me, if your legs start working again." With that and a wicked little smile she turned and sauntered away.
Notes:
new conceit: naming my chapters after famous works of art.
Chapter 15: The Road
Summary:
Nick and Kai finally hit the road to Nebraska.
Chapter Text
her fight and fury is fiery
oh but she loves
like sleep to the freezing
sweet and right and merciful
i'm all but washed
in the tide of her breathing
Hozier, "Cherry Wine"
July 16
"Okay, wait, hang on, I'm working here!" she said with a laugh. "Like we said before, we need to stick to back roads because the highways might be clogged, and then—"
He wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides so she couldn't sign. Kissed behind her ear and dodged when she tried to splash him. He kissed the corner of her jaw. "West on route sixty to six-oh-three," he signed with one hand. Nibbled her ear and rested his chin on her shoulder to peer at the map she'd tacked to the bathroom wall. "Then north on fifty-five through Kansas till we hit Nebraska."
She shrugged off his hold and snaked a hand back to tug at his hair. "When I agreed to let you share my bath, it was on the condition that you behave."
He licked drops of water off her neck. "I am behaving! We're naked in the tub; you're sitting between my legs; I'm not even copping a feel!"
She snorted. "You are a model of restraint."
He slid his arms around her waist and squeezed. Ran a hand up to cup one of her breasts. "I am."
"Well since you're so goddamn responsible, I think it's time you learned to drive."
He went still. She craned her neck to look at him. "Kai…"
"No, I know. But there's no traffic, so it's not like you have to worry about other drivers. Not only that, but that car practically drives itself. If you get it up to forty and turn on the cruise it keeps you in the lane. It flashes if there's something in your blind spot. It auto-brakes if you get too close to something in front of you. It flashes if you're about to back into something."
He mulled it over a moment. She was probably right, but that didn't make him any less nervous about it. "Okay…" he said with a reluctant frown.
"What if I got hurt and couldn't drive, Nicky? We might be stranded somewhere for weeks!"
He kissed her temple. Tweaked a nipple. "I like being stranded with you."
"Wouldn't be as fun if I were too hurt to drive." She ran a hand down his thigh. "I'd probably be too hurt to do much of anything. No fun bath time." She wiggled against him. "No fun couch time. No fun outside time. No fun kitchen—"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it." He sighed and ran his fingers through his damp hair. "You're right. I guess we should start...now?"
She tilted her head thoughtfully. Pushed to her feet. He held her hand to steady her as she stepped out, then he stood and pulled the plug. She put her arms around his neck and pressed her naked body against his. "Maybe in an hour or so?"
"You are so goddamn smart."
"That is so true." She kissed him, then strolled to the bedroom. He wrapped a towel loosely around his waist and followed her. Watched hungrily as she scooted backwards onto the bed, leaned against the pillows, drew her knees up and let them fall to either side. She ran both hands down her body and along the insides of her thighs.
He dropped the towel and crawled onto the bed between her legs. She took his face between her palms and kissed him so well and thoroughly that if he could have, he would've whimpered.
When the kiss finally broke he grinned at her like a lovesick idiot and kissed his way down her body. He paused to lick and suck her nipples before moving on. Nibbled at her belly. Turned his head to kiss the inside of one thigh, then the other.
She squirmed in anticipation and he glanced up at her with a smirk. He kept his eye on her face as he pressed his mouth to her labia and slowly ran the tip of his tongue up and down her slit. She caught her lip between her teeth, then her mouth fell open on a rough gasp as he spread her and licked every inch of her.
He flicked his tongue against her clit and then down, to dip inside her, then up again, over and over until her breath came in short little bursts. Between laps he stopped to rub his soft beard against her inner lips, which drove her wild every time. Just when she thought she couldn't take another second of his teasing, he slid two fingers into her and pressed them firmly against her g-spot. Her hips bucked, and he stilled her with a hand on her hip. He watched her steadily as his fingers moved inside of her, circling and fluttering and stroking.
"Nick, fuck, that's so good, I love your fingers inside me, love your mouth!" She didn't sign it, but he didn't mind: he loved watching her lips form the words, her tongue and her teeth, the dirtier the better.
He flashed her that half-smile and dipped his head again. He worked her g-spot with his fingertips and her clit with his lips and tongue. It felt good, so fucking good, the way he found exactly the right spot every time, the way he played with her clit just right, like he'd been doing it for years. He pressed his tongue against her and moved it in a slow circle that gradually sped up as he felt the muscles in her thighs tense. Every rotation took her higher, closer, until she teetered right on the edge. He kept her there for ages, building up and slowing down and then doing it all over again.
"You want to come?" he signed with his free hand. He looked up at her without lifting his head. "Want me to make you come?"
"Yes! Nicky, please! Wanna come so bad, need it!"
He moaned against her, silently, and nodded. "Good girl," he signed. He sucked her clit and flicked it hard and fast with his tongue. His fingers danced against her g-spot and she grabbed a handful of his hair as finally, finally the wave crested and crashed over her.
"Like that, yeah, yes, fuck that's so good!" She went tight around his fingers and squeezed her eyes shut until she saw stars. He didn't let up, just kept stroking her g-spot and lathing her clit. She shuddered and jerked and pleaded as a second orgasm tripped hard over the first. Finally she pressed a hand to his forehead and he left her too-sensitive clit, but his fingers stayed inside her.
Her wetness streamed down his hand as he coaxed her higher and higher, a string of mini-quakes that melded into one long, delicious flood of sensation. She was incoherent, strung out and gone.
Finally he eased up, moving to light butterfly strokes and then, at last, letting his fingers slip out of her. Her body went limp and she sprawled like her strings had been cut. He grinned, grabbed the towel off the floor, and wiped his hand to the wrist, then knelt between her legs.
She ran a hand down her face and tried to shake out her rubbery legs. She felt how cotton candy tasted: hazy and melting, a cloud of sweet that floated across your tongue like a whisper, but lingered long after.
"Fuck," she mumbled. She looked at him, a crease between her brows. "How the hell did you keep that up so long?" she signed.
He shrugged. "Sign all day, finger all night, it's who I am."
She smothered a giggle. "You're a fucking nerd, that's who you are." The feeling was starting to return to her extremities. She arched her back in a stretch and crooked her finger at him.
He crawled up her body to kiss her. She licked the taste of her cunt off his lips and carded her fingers through his curls. Her other hand slid down to wrap around his cock. She squeezed. He let out a shaky breath.
"You want to fuck me, love?" she said.
He brushed his nose against hers and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. "You know I do, angel," he signed one-handed as he kissed her neck.
She dragged her thumb through the drop of pre-come crowning the tip of his cock and offered it to him. He lapped it away and kissed her, hard. Hooked his arms under her knees and slowly, slowly slid into her. She was still incredibly sensitive, and her entire body responded to the exquisite feel of him inside her with a long, sensual shudder. He wrapped one of her legs around his waist and draped the other one over his shoulder, and began to move. Slowly at first, but picking up speed and intensity as her fingers tightened on his shoulders.
"God that's so good, you feel so good, don't stop, I love the way you fuck me!"
"I know, sweet girl," he signed. "It's you, it's all you, can't get enough of you."
She grabbed his ears and pulled him down for a kiss. Nipped at his lips and he moved faster, harder, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Her head fell back and he bit the spot where the pulse pounded in her throat. She fisted a hand in his hair and dug her fingers into the muscles that danced in his back.
He'd meant what he'd said: he couldn't get enough of her; her scent, her taste, her sweat-slicked skin, her breath against his neck, the way she felt wrapped around him. He nibbled the sharp edge of her jaw and mouthed her name against her throat. "Close, beautiful, fuck you're so good!" he signed.
"Yes, Nicky, please!"
That was all it took, the fevered plea he read on her lips. He came hard, in a dizzying rush of heat and euphoria that left him staggered. It was always like this with her. Every time felt like a revelation, a rediscovery of some pure and joyful part of himself he didn't even know he'd been missing.
He didn't know it, because it wasn't like her to put sentiments like that into words, but she felt exactly the same. Sex with him wasn't just sex; it felt like something more, something bigger, and just a few weeks ago she would've thought that was the stupidest idea she'd ever heard. Now as they lay tangled together gasping for breath and tingling all over, she knew it was the simple truth.
He rolled onto his back and tried to breathe. Her arm flopped sideways and somehow she managed to pat his face without poking him in his good eye before letting her hand come to rest in the center of his chest. He dropped his own arm across her body and patted her hip.
"So about those driving lessons…"
She gave a drunken giggle and her head lolled toward him. "Apply half the concentration to learning to drive as you do to going down on me, and you'll have it mastered in no time."
He flipped onto his side with a wide grin and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. "I've mastered going down on you, huh?"
She tilted her head back and forth in a so-so gesture. "Eh. Maybe."
His face scrunched. "Nope, okay, no, turn over, we're going again!" He pounced, tackling her to the bed and blowing raspberries against her neck. She swatted at his shoulders and tried to squirm away, but he held her down and pressed wet, sloppy kisses all along the curve of her shoulder and her chest. Finally he lifted his head to kiss the tip of her nose.
She mussed his hair with both hands and they grinned at each other like fools. "I love you, you goofy idiot."
His smile flickered for a second, then returned as the half-smirk that made her so crazy. "Your goofy idiot, I hope."
She let out a huff that was part nervous, part amused, part touched. "Fuck that's corny."
"You started it." He flopped onto his back and was silent so long she fought the urge to fidget. Finally he nudged her. "I'm deaf but I can hear you worrying."
She threw out a hand in a helpless gesture. "Well—!"
He turned onto his side, grabbed her arm, pulled her against him, and kissed her breathless. "I love you too, Kai. Pretty sure I've loved you since you walked into that police station and forgot you had your sunglasses on your head. I couldn't say anything because, you know."
"I would've run for the hills."
He tapped her nose. "Plus you really would have thought I imprinted on you like a baby duck."
"Oh my God are you ever going to let me live that down?!"
"Nope. Hopefully never. Hopefully we'll be eighty and I'll still be talking about baby ducks."
Her brows lifted. "Three weeks and you're already planning the next sixty years?"
He shrugged. "Just that one moment."
"Oh, that's okay then. I'll be there."
"Good." He ran his nails up and down her back and she arched into him. "I'll be there too. With you."
July 18
They left bright and early that morning, earlier than he would've liked, but of course she was up near dawn, and by eight she'd dragged him out of bed (after he dragged her back into it for an hour) and into the shower. They had the last of the eggs and bacon for breakfast, along with toast made from some of yesterday's bread, and several mugs of coffee each.
She put fresh sheets on the bed while he cleaned the kitchen, and they met in the bathroom to clean it before putting everything away and moving to the living room.
"Well," she signed.
"Is that everything?"
"I think so. Did you check under the bed?"
He nodded. "Cabinets and closets, too."
She let out a long sigh. "I guess that's it, then."
He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. "I'm glad we came here."
"Me too," she said with a wistful smile. They stepped out onto the porch and she closed the door behind them. "Should I lock it?"
He shook his head. "Leave it open, in case someone comes. It was a good shelter for us; it might be for them too."
"Okay." They walked to the car, and he stopped her for a lingering kiss before opening the door for her. She got in and he checked on the sign he'd nailed to the porch railing:
NICK ANDROS AND KAI D'ARNAUD WERE HERE, 6/25/18 - 7/18/18. ON TO HEMINGFORD HOME, NE VIA 60W, 603W, 55N
"All good?" she said when he got in next to her.
"Yep. But—hang on a sec. I have—I mean I wanted to—" He frowned and scraped a hand back through his hair. Her head tilted in a question. He flashed her a quick, nervous grin, and fished something from his pocket. A small box. "I got you something."
She took it from him with a puzzled smile. "A present? For me?"
"Open it." He did the hair thing again, this time giving the curls a few tugs before he let go. "I'm sorry it's not wrapped. You did such a good job with my eyepatch, but I'm not that crafty, so I just thought—anyway. Open it."
"I don't mind that it's not wrapped. I'm touched you got me something. I got a little silly with the eyepatch. I was just so excited and—" She broke off. "Right. Opening." She drew in a little breath and lifted the lid. Her eyes widened and the breath left in a delighted gasp.
"Do you like it? If you don't I can find something else. Just when I went to get a watch, I saw it and for some reason I thought of you. I don't know why, exactly. It just—reminded me. If you don't like it—"
She waved a hand to stop him. "I love it, Nick. It's beautiful." She pulled it out of the box and held it up to the sunlight: a delicate gold chain with a hammered gold crescent moon dangling from it. There was a little card inside the box that explained it was meant to be worn to represent a waxing moon. "The new moon."
A smile flickered across her lips and when she looked at him he could see the brightness in her eyes. "It's perfect."
"I—um." He felt strangely shy. "I'm glad you like it. Do you want me to—?" He held out his hands to take it from her, and she twisted around in the seat so he could fasten it. His fingers were sensitive and nimble; he got the dainty clasp on the first try, then dropped a kiss on the back of her neck.
She turned to face him again. It hung a few inches below her clavicle, and the gold looked rich against her warm skin. Her fingers danced to it and away. "How does it look?" she said.
His mouth curved in that slow half-smile. "Perfect," he said.
She had flipped down the visor to study her reflection, and when she glanced at him his good eye was trained on her face, not the necklace at all. She blushed. "You aren't even looking!"
He let his gaze drop a moment, then drift back up to her eyes. "Like I said: perfect."
She leaned across the center console and pulled him to her for a long, thorough kiss. "I love you," she said.
"I'm very lovable," he said with a smirk.
She kissed his dimples. The tip of his nose. "Very. Thank you for my necklace. I really do love it."
"Good," he said. He kissed the corner of her jaw. "You're very lovable too."
She fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Is that why you spoil me and buy me pretty things?"
"Liberate you pretty things, but yes. Exactly."
"Lucky me. An arrangement to make any girl swoon."
He sighed. "I know it's tempting, but please don't swoon, babe. I'm fresh outta smelling salts, and you promised to drive first."
She gave a grave nod and gripped the wheel with both hands. "I'll do my best." She peeked at him. "Ready to go now, or any other surprises lurking in your pants?"
"Well—"
She lifted a finger. "That's not a surprise. Any other other surprises?"
He flashed an insouciant grin and shrugged. "Nope, I guess that's it. Let's get moving."
She backed slowly out of the driveway. She didn't want to go; neither of them did; but they knew it was time. The cabin had sheltered them when they needed it, and now they needed to get on with things. Nebraska and Mother Abagail were waiting.
They made good time that day. She played music from her phone that he could feel through the speaker at his knee. Sometimes she signed the words for him of songs she particularly liked. He drove some, after practicing all day yesterday, and he found that he actually liked it. He didn't have to worry about other drivers, like she'd said, and the feel of the vehicle moving under him at his direction was exhilarating.
"We'll get you a muscle car. You can be a car guy," she said with a teasing grin.
"Can you wear an outfit like Sandy at the end of Grease?"
"Only if you do a duck ass hairdo."
He considered it. "We'll table the resolution for now, but negotiations might resume at a later date."
"Whatever you say, greased lightning."
They stopped for a lunch of sandwiches she'd packed back at the house, and drank cold Coke from the cooler. They found a gas station that still had electricity and topped off the gas tank, replaced the cooler's ice, and raided the place for junk food.
"It's not a road trip without Cheetos," she said.
"I like these." He held up a pack of Sno Balls, and she made a face.
"Sorry, kid, I'm allergic to coconut. Eat those and no kisses from me."
He dropped the snack cakes like they'd burned him. When she turned her back he surreptitiously slipped a handful of Almond Joys back on the shelf and sidled away. He almost ran into a little rack of condoms, and when he caught it and set it upright he stood a moment blinking like an idiot.
He tapped a shelf to get her attention and nodded toward the condoms. "So I guess…we can't exactly unring that bell, but…"
She blinked in confusion. "I'm sorry?"
He gave her an incredulous look. "Did the last few days make so little impression on you?"
She looked from him to the rack and back again, and then it clicked. "Oh! Shit. No. I guess I should've told you, but I sort of forgot too? I guess. I have an IUD. No post-apocalyptic bundles of joy for us, I promise."
His mouth fell open. Snapped shut again. His knees went weak with relief as her meaning filtered through his haze of mini-panic. "Oh thank God." He frowned. "Not that—I mean—it wouldn't be—the end of the world—"
"No, we've already lived through that."
"But it wouldn't exactly be—great timing. I can't believe it didn't occur to me before. I feel like an idiot." He shifted his weight. Looked down at his boots a moment, then back up at her with a sheepish expression. "I guess maybe it did occur to me, sort of, somewhere in the back of my mind, but then when you didn't mention it…"
She lifted a brow. His face scrunched.
"I just mean"—he let out a rough sigh of frustration—"I figured either you had it handled, or you…were good. With…taking the chance."
"Were you?" she said, her expression mild.
"I…" He paused to give it some serious thought. A moment ago he'd nearly had a stroke when he realized they'd spent the last few days having copious amounts of unprotected sex, but he also hadn't said anything at the time. And it had occurred to him, more than once, and it wasn't like him to be passive about something so important. He'd never been before.
"I guess I really meant it."
Her held tilted in a question. "Meant what?"
He smiled, slow and soft. "I'm done running. I want to stay put, for you."
She looked away. "I wouldn't trap you with a baby, Nick."
He recoiled in horror. "Kai!" He pulled her around to face him and lifted her chin. Stared steadily into her eyes and gave a stern shake of his head. "That isn't what I meant. At all. I'm glad—it's not something we have to think about right now, because we have enough going on as it is. And I would worry about you a lot. No doctors, coyotes around every corner, awful nightmares—I'd be a goddamn wreck."
He took a long breath. "I love you, Kai. I want you. I want to be with you. There are no traps here. There couldn't be. I know you keep saying we barely know each other, but—"
"No," she said and shook her head. "No, I have to stop saying that, because it's wrong. I feel like I've always known you. Like—my life before was just—steps along the way. To get here. With you."
His mouth quirked. "A gas station in rural Arkansas?"
She nodded gravely. "Exactly." Her lips twitched, and finally she grinned. "I would've said something, but then you didn't, so I don't know—I didn't. Anyway, I've had it about a year. I have really painful periods, and I hate the Pill, so…" She shrugged. "Lucky, I guess, because now I don't have to worry about either babies or tampons."
"How long—do they last?"
"Five years, give or take. But it can come out. I mean—obviously having a doctor remove it is the way you want to go, but you can do it yourself if you can find the strings."
"You know I'm available to assist you in any—"
"Nicholas!" Laughing, she pressed a hand to her face and shook her head. "I'm going to the car. You're impossible."
He gave an easy shrug. "But you love me."
She sighed. Grabbed his shirt to haul him close for a kiss that started out teasing, but turned hot and hungry when she started to pull away and he dragged her back. Their snacks tumbled to the floor, forgotten, as they pressed against each other. He spun her around so that her back was against the rack. Tugged down the strap of her tank top to drop sucking kisses on the swell of her tits.
She pulled him back up for more feverish kisses, and somehow he undid the button and zipper on her shorts and slid his hand into her panties. She bucked against his palm with a moan and he circled her clit hard and fast. No finesse, just need, hot and greedy and demanding.
He shrugged out of his suspenders while she unfastened his trousers. He boosted her onto the edge of a shelf and she kicked her shorts down to her ankles. She shoved his pants and underwear down and he yanked her panties aside and then he was inside her, one rough, deep thrust that sent junk food raining down around them. She gripped his shoulders, he held her hips, and their eyes stayed locked as he fucked her.
"Say it," he signed. He kissed her. Bit her lip and then soothed the spot with his tongue. "Say it, sweet girl."
"I love you," she said aloud. She tangled a hand in his hair. "I love you, Nicky, fuck that's good!"
They didn't speak after that. He pulled her bra down to bare a breast; she arched her back and he nipped and sucked her nipple. He concentrated on getting just the right angle and she wrapped herself around him and it wasn't long before she came, a furious little storm that left her dizzy. His orgasm followed seconds after hers, triggered by the feel of her squeezing around his cock and the filthy things she mouthed through her climax.
They collapsed against each other, panting, until her head fell back on a laugh.
"Well that was a first," she said. "I think a quick and dirty sex in unusual places kink might be awakening in me."
"We should've gone back to the candy store." He offered a sly grin. "And I'm pretty sure I felt the strings."
She giggled and shoved at his shoulder. "Move, you goof. I have to see if I can still walk."
He gave her the handkerchief from his back pocket so she could clean up, then carefully helped her stand. "Good? Not gonna topple?"
"I think I'm okay. You?"
He got his clothes back into place and patted himself up and down. "Yep, it all checks out."
"Smartass," she said with a snort. She pulled her shorts up and fixed her bra. "I was going to the car, wasn't I?"
"Guess you got distracted."
"Guess I did." She wrapped an arm around his waist and kissed him, long and soft and slow. "I do love you, Nick."
"I know. I love you too." He kissed her shoulder. She had some freckles there from the sun, despite her generous use of sunscreen. He thought they looked delicious, like sprinkles of cinnamon, and he wanted to taste every one.
That was maybe a sentiment best expressed at some other time.
"Go on," he said. "I'll get this stuff and meet you out there."
"Okay," she said. "Grab me a Milky Way Dark, will you? I'm suddenly having—cravings—like maybe for pickles? And ice cream?"
He rolled his eyes and threw a snack size bag of pretzels at her. "Shut up and go away. You're as evil as you are sexy. And you hate pickles!"
She grinned, caught the pretzels, and tossed them back. "I'm going. But I meant it about the Milky Way!" She skipped out the door and to the car. Shivered with remembered pleasure at the slight pain between her thighs.
Eventually they'd meet some other people and they'd have to stop fucking like horny bunnies, but in the meantime it wasn't a bad way to live at the end of the world.
Chapter 16: Tom Cullen
Summary:
Nick and Kai meet...well. Y'all can read the chapter name.
Chapter Text
now i know a refuge never grows
from a chin in a hand in a thoughtful pose
gotta tend the earth if you want a rose
Indigo Girls, "Hammer and a Nail"
July 19 - AR - OK
They stopped that night at a park marked on the map and made camp near a wide, rushing creek that was still deliciously cool even in the height of summer. Nick waded in up to his ankles, but Kai found a swimming hole and took full advantage. They had canned vegetable beef stew for supper and slept curled up together under a sky bursting with stars.
She woke him just after dawn with kisses, and after some slow, lazy morning sex and a quick breakfast they were back on the road. They crossed into Oklahoma around ten AM, and as lunchtime closed in they started looking for a place to stop. Their backroads route took them through dozens of little towns, all of them so far deserted (of the living, anyway), and so when they passed into May, Oklahoma and she spotted the dead body in the road, she wasn't surprised. They had gotten familiar with dead bodies in the last few weeks.
What did surprise the ever-loving fuck out of her was when the body suddenly sprung to its feet and threw itself toward the car. She screamed at full volume and slammed on the brakes. She and Nick were thrown against their seatbelts as the car skidded to a stop inches from the figure. He was tall and broad, with short brown hair, a woolly brown beard, and thick glasses. He looked like a linebacker-turned-lumberjack, and if he was a zombie, he was a formidable one. They shared frightened, wide-eyed glances.
"Not dead?" Nick signed.
"I really hope not, because you assured me many times that this wasn't that type of apocalypse. Are you okay?"
"That was hard on the tits, but yeah, I'm fine." He batted her arm with the back of his hand and pointed over her shoulder.
The man was now at Kai's window jumping up and down and waving. He knocked on the glass and waved again. "Are you real?!" he called through the closed window. "M-O-O-N, that spells real! Laws yes! Roll down the window! Or get outta the car! Tom Cullen won't hurt you, laws no! You nearly hit me, didn't you jus'! That's why mama told me not to sleep in the middle of the road! M-O-O-N, that spells road!"
Kai glanced back at Nick, and he looked even more confused than she felt. "I guess you should open it…?" he said. "He doesn't look…dangerous."
She tilted her head in acknowledgement and reached for the window control. She left the car running just in case he was dangerous and they had to haul ass outta there. The glass lowered and he bounced up and down in excitement.
"Hello hello!" he said, waving exuberantly. "My name is Tom Cullen and I'm forty-two years old and developmentally disabled. I have trouble recognizing social cues, so please do not be alarmed if my behavior is strange or off-putting. I can't read or write, but I have other skills I can do, including manual labor. Please let me know if you have any odd jobs that you need help with. I live at number Twelve Allen Drive in May, Oklahoma with my mother, Sadie Cullen. Do you have any questions?"
Kai's mouth fell open as the speech progressed, and at the end of it she snapped it shut again. She shot Nick a look, but he just shook his head. She hit the button to kill the ignition and started to open the door, but Tom was blocking it. Nick got out of the passenger side and started around, and when Tom saw him he grinned, ran around the hood, and began his speech all over again. She took a deep breath and got out of the car.
"Tom," she said. She tapped his shoulder (she had to reach way up) and he spun toward her, still with that sunny grin. "Hi, Tom. My name's Kai d'Arnaud. This is my friend Nick Andros." She signed as she spoke, and he watched her hands in fascination. "Nick is deaf and mute. Do you know what that means?"
Tom nodded. "He can't hear or speak! M-O-O-N, that spells deaf-mute!"
"That's right. M-O-O-N." She paused, nonplussed. "Anyway. Nick can read your lips, and also he understands when I use sign language, like I'm doing now. He can sign to me, and I can tell you what he's saying, and I'll sign what we're both saying to make sure he understands us."
He turned to Nick, then back to Kai. "That's good, laws yes! Tom hates it when people make it hard to understand things." He spun toward Nick and waved. "Hi Nick, I'm Tom Cullen! I'm forty-two years old—"
"Tom." Kai stopped him again. "It's okay. He got most of it when you told me. Didn't you, Nick?"
He nodded and held up both thumbs. "Nice to meet you, Tom," he signed, and Kai repeated aloud.
"Nice to meet you too, Nick! Laws that's the truth! I've never been so happy to meet anybody as I am to meet y'all!" He paused a moment, and his sunny expression clouded for the first time. "She told me y'all might be here today."
Kai and Nick shared a look. "She?" Kai said.
He grinned again. "Mother Abagail! Hemingford Home, Nebraska. M-O-O-N, that spells Hemingford Home! I have dreams about her sometimes, and I had one last night and she told me to look for you today—but I forgot." He scuffed a huge work boot against the asphalt. "I got into the liquor store. Daddy told me to stay away from liquor, but everyone's gone and Tom got lonely and at first I felt real happy, but then kinda sick, then I got sleepy and took a nap."
They glanced at each other again. Nick's brow rose. Kai tilted her head. He lifted his palm in a shrug. She flicked her brows upward and her mouth quirked. "We've dreamt about Mother Abagail too," she said. "We're heading to Hemingford Home if you'd like to come with us."
Tom gaped at her, then at Nick. "Really?!"
"Yeah, really. Isn't that why Mother Abagail told you to look for us?"
He lifted both arms in the air and turned in a circle. Punched the sky and hopped up into the air. "Hemingford Home!" he cried. "Tom and Nick and Kai goin' to Hemingford Home!"
Nick cast her a puzzled look as Tom's victory dance continued. "Pretty sure that's a yes," she signed.
"He'll slow us down," he signed.
"I know that. But we can't leave him here alone. He already drank himself into a stupor. What other trouble might he get into? He plays with matches next and burns the place down? Discovers the local meth dealer's secret lair and thinks it's rock candy?"
"Of course we can't leave him. Softie." He nudged her shoulder with his. "I love you."
She snorted. "You're the softie. And I love you too."
"Woooo! Hemingford Home! Do you wanna leave now? I should pack my stuff first. You wanna come back to my house? I live at number Twelve Allen Drive, and I used to live with my mama, but she died."
Kai's brow creased in sympathy. "I'm sorry, Tom. Nick and I lost our moms when we were kids."
"Oh, I wasn't a kid. She got the flu and died two weeks ago." He paused. Shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and pulled them out again. Shuffled his feet. "I buried her in the backyard, because Mr. Shelton down at the funeral home went off to Okie City with everybody else in town, so there weren't nobody there to help me. I said a prayer for her."
She was translating everything to Nick, and at this last bit, he gave Tom's arm a sympathetic pat. "It sounds like you did good," he signed. "What do you mean, everyone went to Okie City?"
He shrugged his big shoulders. "My mama and our neighbor stayed, but everyone else in town ran off, mama said to Okie City. They didn't wanna stick around here cuz it's a do-nothin' town. That's what people say, do-nothin'. My daddy ran off with Miss DeeDee Packalott, M-O-O-N that spells DeeDee Packalott, but that's when I weren't no more'n ten. Everybody left and mama died, and then it was just Tom all by hisself."
Nick and Kai exchanged another look. Everyone just took off and left Tom and an old lady alone? Weren't small towns supposed to take care of each other? Love thy neighbor and all that shit?
"I'm sorry they did that, Tom," Kai said. "But don't worry: you're not alone anymore. We'd love to see where you live. Hop in the car and you can point the way for us."
He let out another whoop and ran for the car. Nick moved his seat up to make room, and Tom chattered the whole three blocks to his house. It was a neat little brick ranch set back from the road, with a giant magnolia in front. The tree reminded Kai so forcefully of home that for a moment she sat frozen, staring at the spreading limbs, waxy leaves, and big white blossoms with a sliver of pain piercing her right through the middle.
Tom was already halfway up the front walk, still talking, but Nick hadn't moved. He touched the back of her hand where it gripped the steering wheel, and she jerked her eyes away from the tree.
"Sorry," she said. "I just—got homesick for a sec. It's stupid."
He shook his head. "You haven't given yourself time to mourn it, Kai. It's bound to hit you now and then."
"Who's got that kind of time?" she said. "It's too dangerous to look back. You get trapped there." Her mouth curved as her eyes moved from the tree to him. "Besides, I've got everything I need here in the present."
He cupped her face; stroked her cheek with his thumb; and leaned closer for a soft kiss. "We can stop here overnight," he said. "You could bake something. Bread, maybe, or cinnamon rolls."
That perked her up, as he knew it would. "Even if there aren't supplies in the house, I might be able to pick something up at the grocery store. We can ask Tom."
He smiled and started to kiss her again, but her gaze shifted to over his shoulder and she tapped his arm. He twisted around to find Tom standing outside the car staring at them.
"Y'all can come in. I'll show you my room! And you can meet the gals!"
She and Nick exchanged confused looks, and they both got out of the car to join him in the yard. "The gals?" she said. "I thought everyone left town?"
He grinned and rolled his eyes. "The gals aren't humans, silly billy! Laws no! They're chickens. Miss Ruby and her free range gals! We've got Miss Ruby and Miss Emerald and Miss Opal and Miss Pearl! M-O-O-N, that spells chickens!"
"Chickens?" That perked Nick up like the idea of baking something had done for her. "You've got chickens?"
"I just told you I do! They live in the backyard. Mr. Simpson down the road built us a coop, but Tom helped, laws yes!" Tom froze, his expression going slack. "We're goin' to Hemingford Home, right?" he said after a moment.
"That's right, Tom," Kai said. "Isn't that where you wanted to go?"
He nodded, slowly. "It is, but—what about the gals?! Who'll take care of them? I gotta feed them every day and give them fresh water and make sure they're put up snug at night so the foxes don't get at 'em! That's what Mr. Simpson said when we built their coop!"
She glanced at Nick, but his expression had turned thoughtful. "I guess you'll have to open the fence for them so they can get out to get their own food," she said. "Chickens eat pretty much anything."
"I can't do that!" Tom said. He scrubbed a big hand over his head and began to pace back and forth. "No no no, can't do that. There's coyots out there, and everybody knows the coyots is his. Foxes and weasels, too. Can't let the gals get ate! They're Tom's responsibility, laws yes, M-O-O-N, that spells responsibility!"
Kai's mouth fell open in dismay. Chickens! They were chickens! What the hell were they supposed to do about chickens?!
Nick touched her arm, and the look on his face sent a wave of tiredness through her. "You want to bring chickens with us to Nebraska," she signed, not a question.
He nodded. "I can build them a box. It wouldn't have to be very big. Just four chickens. And we'd have eggs on the road! Unless they got broody, which might happen. But we'd have eggs in Nebraska, or wherever we end up. And if we found a rooster they could make more chickens and we could help save chickens from extinction!"
She scowled at him. "Save chickens from extinction my ass!"
"Tom's right: there are too many predators for chickens to survive in the wild, and any farm chickens that were left cooped up—" He broke off, because he knew if she got to thinking about animals left caged as humans died off, she'd be out for the rest of the day. No amount of baking would bring her back from that spiral. "I'm just saying. It's worth looking into."
Tom had been looking back and forth between them with keen curiosity, and he seemed to understand what it meant when Kai threw her arms in the air: a universal gesture of defeat. "We can take the gals with us?!" he said.
"Yeah, Tom," she said, wearily. "As long as Nick can figure out something to transport them in, we can take the gals with us."
"Hooray!" He punched the air and danced a little jig. "Come on, Nick, we got lots of wood and chicken wire and tools back in the shed. Tom'll help you!" He grabbed Nick's arm and dragged him toward the backyard. Nick looked back at her with a helpless shrug, but she could tell he was thrilled.
Kai stood watching them go, then glanced around the empty yard. "Well. I guess I'll just…show myself in."
When Nick came to bed that night it was almost ten, relatively early, but working by candlelight was a pain in the ass, so they tended to turn in not long after dark. Tom had been excited all day as he helped Nick figure out a portable chicken coop and showed Kai around his house. He took her to his room, where he had posters of Dolly Parton, Superman, and Sailor Moon ("M-O-O-N, that spells Dolly Parton"), along with a ton of toys, mostly cars and racetracks. He was delighted by the idea of homemade bread, and she gave him a ball of dough to knead and shape all on his own.
She'd turned in around nine, leaving the boys to plan their portable chicken coop. Nick couldn't speak aloud and Tom couldn't read, but somehow they communicated better than one would think. She was happy to see Nick so excited about something, and she'd only known Tom about eight hours, but she'd already take a bullet for him.
That night when the bedroom door opened she looked up from her book and smiled. He looked exhausted, and he offered her a tired wave and pointed toward the bathroom. She nodded and blew him a kiss.
The house still had running water, but not hot, so she heard the toilet flush, then the sink turn on, but not the shower. A few minutes later he emerged, stripped down to his shorts and hair wet. He dropped his clothes onto the pile in the corner and crawled into bed next to her.
He kissed her, then collapsed with his head in her lap. "I have never seen someone with that much energy in my life," he signed.
She grinned and combed her fingers through his damp curls. "Poor baby. Didn't you say he'd slow us down?"
"On the trip, yes. Now? He's almost twenty years older than us but I feel ancient."
"Old man Andros. How's Operation Chicken Haul going?"
"Hang on." He rolled off the bed and dug through his pants pockets. Made a face, held up a hand, and disappeared into the hall. He came back carrying several sheets of paper. He spread them across the bed and climbed up to sit next to her. She frowned down at the drawings and then looked at him, wide-eyed.
"Nicky, did you draw these?"
He gave a modest shrug. "Just rough sketches."
They were a lot more than rough sketches. They looked like professional schematics. For a portable chicken coop. "These are awesome. The bottom comes out?"
He nodded and pulled a sketch closer. He spent the next ten minutes or so explaining his design, and by the time he was done she was thoroughly impressed.
"Wow, I had no idea you were an architect."
He made a face. "That's overstating a little."
"I don't know. It's just on a smaller scale. I think Miss Ruby and the gals will be very comfy on their first road trip."
"You think taking chickens is ridiculous."
She sighed. "No, I don't. I thought it would be impractical. Take too much time and work for not much payoff. But you're both right: we can't just leave them here to be prey. And the eggs'll be welcome. And now that I've seen this…" She trailed off with a shrug. "It'll work, as long as the ladies cooperate."
He smiled at her, slow and sweet, and she brushed a curl off his forehead. "What's that look for?" she said.
"Nothing in particular. Just—earlier I was thinking what all this would've been like without you."
"Hmm," she said. "Fewer orgasms, probably."
"Probably." He stroked his thumb down the healing scratch on her cheek, then kissed the spot. "But you know that's not all."
She leaned in and brushed her nose against his. Pressed a kiss to his cheek below the eyepatch. "I wouldn't want anyone else as my designated apocalypse buddy," she said.
His mouth quirked. "I'm glad I'm not alone—but more than that, I'm glad it's you."
She pushed him against the headboard and climbed into his lap. He gave her a lazy half-grin and ran his hands up her back so that she arched into his touch with a soft sigh. She took one of his hands in hers and kissed the tip of each finger. Each knuckle. The center of his palm. He watched her with an amused expression, and she smiled up at him.
"I love your hands," she said. She pressed her palm against his and he curled his fingers between hers. "How big they are. How good it feels when you touch me."
He was still wearing that insouciant half-smile. With his free hand he slid the strap of her tank top off her shoulder and kissed the cinnamon sprinkle freckles he loved so much. He trailed his fingertips along the curve of her shoulder and down the back of her arm. She shivered.
"Tickles," she said.
He kissed her neck and she ran both hands through his hair. "Do you know what Tom asked me?" he said.
"There's no telling."
He kissed her other shoulder. Stroked her neck and used his thumbs to massage behind her ears. "He wanted to know if you're my girlfriend."
She grinned. "Why? Is he gonna ask me out?"
"Ha. No, I don't think so. I'm pretty sure his heart belongs to Dolly." He kissed across her chest as he signed it with one hand. Nibbled at her collarbones and sucked a little mark onto the swell of her breast.
"I got that impression too." She tugged at his hair to pull his head up and kissed him until they were both breathless. The familiar hot, achy restlessness was building low in her belly, but she tried to stay cool. "What did you tell him?"
"Well, you know, my communication with Tom is a bit…limited. So I just nodded and gave him a thumbs up." He slid his hands up her body, dragging her top with him as he went. He cupped her bared breasts and nipped at her jaw. Kissed up and down her neck, flicking her soft skin with his tongue and sucking a bit.
Her head fell back on a quiet moan and she squirmed against him. "Girlfriend, huh?"
He shrugged. Tugged one of her nipples between two knuckles. Did it again, harder, based on her reaction. "That feel good, sweet girl?"
She nodded. "Uh huh. Do it again."
He did, with a knowing grin, then lowered his head to suck each nipple in turn, swirling his tongue against them in unrelenting circles. "What would you prefer?" he said when he lifted his head again. "Partner? Apocalypse buddy? Radiant goddess whose presence I am fortunate enough to bask in?"
She shivered when the breeze from the open window caressed skin wet and tender from his mouth. "That last one has potential, but it's kinda long."
His expression turned thoughtful as he wiggled his hand between them to push her panties aside and stroke her pussy with two fingers. "You've never complained about that before," he said.
"Not"—she let out a rough breath when his fingertips found her clit—"complaining now. Just for convenience sake, maybe something a little simpler."
"My hands might get tired trying to sign all of that."
"I don't know about that." She bit her lip as he dipped his fingers inside her and the heel of his hand ground against her clit. "You've got amazing hands."
"So you said." He nuzzled her neck and kissed the pulse point when her chin lifted. "You've got amazing everything."
Her laugh was breathless as he curled his fingers just right. "Flatterer."
He shook his head. "Truth."
More soft, sucking kisses up and down her neck, perfectly designed to make her crazy, and curling his fingers inside her over and over. Palm dragged toward fingertips and across her clit every time. It was a slow, delicious dance that melted her bones and sent molten sparks spiraling through her. She moved against him so that her extra-sensitive nipples brushed his chest, and he flashed another of those wry smirks.
"You gonna come for me, sweetheart?"
She gave a quiet moan and nodded. "You know I am," she signed. "Don't stop!"
"Let me see you say it." He rubbed his thumb across her full mouth. "Tell me."
She tangled her fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck and gripped his shoulder with the other hand. Rocked against him faster as his fingers went deeper, palm pressed harder. "Gonna come for you, Nicky!" she breathed. "Gonna come all over your hand. Feels so fucking good, gonna come so hard!"
"Good girl," he signed. His own breath was ragged and harsh, and she let go of his shoulder to wrap her fingers around his cock. She stroked him through the cotton of his boxer briefs, then slid her hand into the opening to find his hot, hard length eager and waiting for her. He throbbed against her palm, and she swirled her thumb through the pre-come at the tip to coat the head. His forehead dropped to rest against hers and soon they were moving in sync: his fingers inside her, hers tight around him, their hips rocking together in an increasingly desperate rhythm.
"Fuck, baby!" he said. "Like that!"
She ran her tongue over her lower lip and kissed him, hard and straining and greedy with need. "Love you, baby," she gasped when the kiss broke. "Love how you feel, love the way you fuck me!"
He stopped trying to sign—his brain was scrambled like an egg—and instead buried his free hand in her hair and just held on. A few more strokes from his fingers and rough jerks of her hips and her pretty mouth fell open as she went tight around him and the heat swallowed her.
"Nicky! Nick yes that's so good, so good yes!"
The rush of wetness that filled his palm and the exquisite friction from her hand finished the job her body moving against his had started, and his cock jumped in her grip. He let out a hard, uneven breath. The come pumped over her hand and onto her thigh in heated spurts as his own orgasm crashed over him.
They shuddered through it together, him mouthing her name and words of love and desire, her holding onto him like she might fly away if she didn't.
Finally she slumped against him and he eased his fingers out of her dripping cunt. He held up his shiny hand and shook his head in mock disapproval. "You made a mess."
She lifted a brow. "You are one to talk, sir. I have your come dripping down my wrist and my thigh. And not in the usual way it does the latter."
The crease appeared above the bold line of his nose. He hadn't even asked her first. "We've never—done that before. I hope—it's okay."
"I would have stopped if it weren't okay." She bit her lip and looked away. Looked back again, and she was blushing. "I kind of like it. Sometimes."
The worry drained out of him and he smiled, warm and mellow, and gave an easy nod. "I like finding out what you like." He ran a wet fingertip through the thick white stuff on her inner thigh. "Don't ever be afraid to tell me. Or—if you don't like something. I want to know."
"I know," she said. "And normally I'm not shy about things like that. Just—a lot is different with you."
"Different…good?" he said. He thought good, but maybe he was reading this all wrong.
She nodded. "Different very good." She spread her arms wide. "But," she said, shrinking again, "I think that makes me even more afraid of fucking it all up."
"Babe…I don't think there's anything you could tell me in that area that would fuck this up. I already know you don't like nipple clamps or pet play." He gave her shoulder a quick kiss. "Tell me the wildest thing you're into."
"Oh geez."
"Come on. Just lay it on me. I promise I can take it."
Her face screwed up as she thought it over. "Okay, well—it's not really that wild, to be honest, but it tends to freak straight men out."
His brows rose in a question.
"Pegging," she said with a little shrug. "Like I said, not that crazy, but straight men can be so goddamn weird."
He nodded, slowly, but inside the gears were whirring and his good eye was wide and bright. "You might remember that I'm not straight."
"I do seem to recall that, yes."
He lifted her off his lap and held up both hands for her to stay put. "Wait right there. Don't move. I'm going to get a washcloth, then we're going to talk about this more in-depth. No pun intended, except maybe a little bit."
He dashed to the bathroom and she leaned back against the pillows with a giggle. She felt loose and warm from her orgasm and she found herself hoping their conversation would lead to more of them. He reappeared, washcloth in hand, and gently wiped his come off her skin, then kissed where it had been. Inner thigh kisses led to other kisses and it was twenty minutes and two more orgasms (for her) later that they finally had that conversation.
Chapter 17: The Dog Days
Summary:
Nick, Kai, and Tom hit the road and encounter multiple obstacles along the way, including a gun-toting Julie Lawry.
Notes:
Sorry I didn't get this out yesterday, guys! I forgot, then remembered, then forgot again, then remembered at like midnight, so I just decided to wait until today. To make up for it this is a long one with a LOT going on, so buckle up.
I just passed 100k words on this fic, which is...not what I was planning when I set out to write it. I've got a busy busy schedule rn with classwork, this fic, and another fic I'm working on, so hopefully I'll be able to continue my twice/week updates, but I've only got through ch20 written, so they might...slow down a little...and in fact this week, since I forgot to post yesterday, you're just getting 1. Sorry! But like I said, it's a big one.
Also a big THANK YOU to an anon on my blog (binickandros) for offering the headcanon that Nick teaches Tom some ASL while they're on the road. The first little bit was inspired by that idea.
Also: please be aware the r-word and an abbreviation thereof is used in this chapter. Proceed with caution.
Chapter Text
whether weather be the frost
or the violence of the dog days
i'm on waves, out being tossed
is there a line that i could just go cross?
Taylor Swift, "Evermore"
July 21 - OK - KS
They spent the next day and night in May, mostly because Nick and Tom were perfecting their chicken carrier, but the morning after they were back on the road. The ladies were tucked into their coop in the SUV's cargo area, and Nick had secured a blanket around them so that it was snug and dark. So far they seemed fine, but the day would tell.
Kai had Dolly Parton's Greatest Hits on her phone, and Tom sang along in a delighted, surprisingly sweet baritone. Sometimes Nick would twist in his seat so he could watch, and at the end of every song he waved his fingers in applause.
When the album finished Kai turned the radio down and signed something to Nick, who nodded and grinned. "Hey, Tommy," she said, "you wanna learn some sign language?"
Tom went still and his eyes grew wide. "Who, me?"
"Yeah, you. You're the only guy named Tommy in this car, aren't you?"
He laughed. "Yeah I am! M-O-O-N, that spells Tom Cullen! You think I could really learn to talk like you and Nick?"
"Sure, I bet you can. We can start out with something simple—like your name. Do you know your ABCs?"
He let out an impatient huff. "Tom isn't a baby, Kai! I can't read, but sure I know my ABCs." He sang the alphabet song, and when he got to z he clapped. "My mama taught me!"
"She did a wonderful job. Do you know how to spell your first name?"
"That's easy! It's T-O-M, Tom! I can read my name and my address."
"That's awesome, Tommy!" She grinned at him in the rearview mirror. "Okay, watch Nick. He's going to show you how to spell your name in sign language."
Nick turned in the seat and offered Tom a smile. He grinned back and waved. Nick formed each letter with his hand, and Kai said them aloud.
"Now you try," she said. "Start with T. Then O. Then M."
"Like that?!" he said. He was so excited he was bouncing in his seat. Nick nodded and gave him a double thumbs up. "Tom got it right! Tom knows sign language, laws yes!"
"That's so great!" Kai said. "Do it again!"
He and Nick kept practicing until Tom had it down cold. "Now teach me how to do you and Nick! I wanna know your names!"
Kai signed his request to Nick, who nodded. "Okay, let's start with mine. It's just three letters, like yours. K-A-I."
They went through the steps again, then they taught him Nick's name. They circled back through all three, then she left him to practice on his own for a bit before she randomly called out a name to quiz him on it. She went through them in different order several times, and each time he got it right. Nick gave him a high five and Tom looked like he was about to bust from pure joy.
"Wooo! Tom Cullen knows sign language! K-A-I, that spells Kai! N-I-C-K, that spells Nick! T-O-M, that spells Tom!" He signed as he spelled, and they both applauded him in ASL.
Suddenly Nick's head turned in mild alarm as something caught his eye. He batted her arm and pointed out his window, and she ducked her head to see what he was looking at. "Wow," she said. "That is a dark cloud."
Tom leaned over in the backseat to get a look, and he drew in a sharp, high-pitched breath. "Pull over!" he cried. "Kai, stop the car, stop the car!"
"What? Tommy, what's wrong? It's just a storm; we'll be fine."
"Over there!" he said and pointed over her shoulder. "That barn, go there! Go now, Kai!"
Nick was looking from her to Tom in confusion, but something about the expression on Tom's face made him agree. "I think—listen to him," he signed.
She nodded, because Tom's tone was urgent and terrified. She couldn't see a road to get to the barn Tom had indicated, but the car had four wheel drive. She turned the wheel and bumped into the field, which luckily was fallow at the moment. They bucked and bumped their way across it, and she slammed on the brakes when they reached the barn.
"Come on!" Tom cried. "Hurry, hurry, hurry!"
She and Nick exchanged frightened, baffled looks, but they both jumped out of the car. The moment the door opened she was struck by how odd everything felt.
The sky was an alarming green-black, but the world around them was perfectly still, like it was holding its breath. There was a roar in the distance, like a freight train bearing down. Nick was staring off to his right, frozen by something he saw there, but Tom grabbed first her and then him and dragged them into the barn.
"Twister!" he shouted over the sound. "Twister comin'!"
Kai's heart stopped, then resumed at double time. "The girls!" she said.
"No time!" He wrestled open a hatch in the floor and shoved them both down the rickety steps. They looked back and watched in horror as, in the distance, the roof was peeled off a farmhouse as easily as you might peel an orange.
Tom slammed the cellar door and ushered them deeper in, and Kai reeled back from the smell. They weren't alone.
Nick groped for her hand, and she caught it and squeezed. Tom wrapped his arms around both of them and they stood huddled in the pungent dark, clinging to each other for dear life. The tornado pounded against the cellar door and the entire world shook. It was so loud Kai wondered if she'd ever hear again. She buried her face against Nick's chest and he stroked her hair. He couldn't hear it, but the vibration was so strong he felt it—it seemed, to him, like a sort of hearing, like when he pressed his knee against the car's speaker and felt Kai's music.
He wished he could hear it, because then maybe it would distract him from…the other thing. The dark. The smell. But the smell was just a smell and it was natural and normal. The dark was different. Kai shuddered in his arms and Tom trembled against his back.
It felt like they stood in that stygian hole for hours, half a day at least, but when the terrible shaking stopped and Tom bolted from the cellar, Nick's watch told him it had only been fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes stretched to eternity by the thing that stalked them in the black.
The barn's roof was gone, as was the top half of the barn. Sunlight streamed in and they stood basking in it like escapees from Hell. Tom was white as a sheet and looked like he might wretch. His breath whistled in and out.
"Tommy?" Kai said, gently. She rested a hand on his thick forearm. "You okay, sweetheart?"
"He was there," he said. "Down there. With us. You felt it, right?"
She signed it and glanced at Nick, whose expression was grim. He gave a curt nod. "He can't hurt us, Tommy. We're okay now."
Tom bent double and rested his hands on his knees. He shook his head back and forth, back and forth, and his face was creased with terror and anguish. "No no no no! He was there he was close he almost touched me! He almost got us he almost got us I couldn't stop him!"
Kai knelt in front of him so that they were eye to eye. "Hey. Tom, listen." She took his face in her hands and smiled at him. "It's not your job to stop him. Not by yourself. There are three of us, right?"
He looked unsure for a moment, but at last he nodded. "Nick, Kai, and Tom."
"That's right. Nick, Kai, and Tom. We're friends. And you know what friends do?"
He shook his head.
"They take care of each other. All of us. We protect each other. And that's what we did down there, wasn't it? He didn't get us, because we held on tight and we didn't let him in."
Nick patted him on the back and dropped down next to Kai. He pointed at himself, then at her, then at Tom. Held up three fingers, then clasped his hands together.
"Nick, Kai, and Tom," she said. "All three together. You're the one who knew about the twister, Tom. We would be smashed flat now if it weren't for you."
That seemed to perk him up a little. His expression slowly smoothed into a smile. "Tom saved the day?"
"That's right. Just like Superman."
His grin widened. "M-O-O-N, that spells Superman."
"It sure does." She pushed to her feet and Nick did the same. After a moment Tom straightened and swiped the back of a big hand across his eyes.
"Tom didn't mean to act like a baby."
Nick frowned and shook his head. "It's okay to be scared. I was scared, too."
"Me too," Kai said. "But I knew I had my two best guys lookin' out for me."
Tom stood taller. "Me and Nick?"
"Yup, you and Nick."
He ducked his head and scraped his boot against the barn's dirt floor. "Tom's glad Kai and Nick came to May, Oklahoma, laws yes."
"So are we," Nick said. "I would hate to be smashed flat in a twister."
Tom threw back his head and laughed, then punched Nick on the shoulder. "Laws no! You'd be like Dorothy flyin' off to Oz! 'Cept mama told me that was just pretend. Twisters don't really take you nowhere fun." His brow wrinkled. "I sure am sorry we didn't have time to grab the gals."
Kai had wandered a few steps away, but now she turned back with a grin. "I think they're okay, Tommy. Look."
The tornado, in the fickle way they had, had taken the top off the barn but completely skipped their car. It stood in the yard where they'd left it covered in bits of hay and scraps of wood, but otherwise it was unharmed. Not even a cracked window.
Tom bounced on his feet and clapped his hands. He grabbed Nick's arm and hauled him toward the car. "Come on, Nick, we gotta check on the gals! They probably got scared, didn't they jus'!"
He looked back at her with a nonplussed expression, and she just waved. She cut a look over her shoulder at the gaping maw of the cellar and shuddered. Just like back at the drug store, only worse. She took a step that direction, almost without meaning to, and she swore she heard a high, coaxing whisper: Edie…
She froze. The sunlight seemed to turn thin and the day chilled around her. She wrapped her arms around herself and took another step. Sweet Edie…
"Kai!"
Tom's voice was like a life preserver in a storm-ravaged sea. She jerked away from the beckoning dark and spun toward it. "Sorry!" she said. "Coming!"
She joined them at the car, and Nick gave her a questioning look. She shook her head, quickly. "Tell you later."
She still trembled. He took one of her hands in his and pressed a kiss to the center of her palm. She smiled and felt the last clinging bits of shadow melt away. The sun was hot and bright on her face, and Nick slipped his arm around her as Tom chattered about the chickens. She leaned against Nick's shoulder and sang along with Tom's chicken-soothing song. It did seem to help: they stopped their fretting and settled down in the coop. Even Kai felt calmer after a few verses, but maybe that was just the sunlight and the breeze and the warm, familiar feel of Nick next to her.
Either way, she was glad to be out of that cellar, and glad they'd passed through May, and glad Tom had passed out in the middle of main street. She was glad to be alive with the man she loved and their friend and these ridiculous chickens. She looked up at Nick and he smiled down at her, and she saw the same thought written in the familiar lines and planes of his face.
"We're gonna be fine," she signed.
His head tilted in a question. "Of course we are. M-O-O-N, that spells teamwork makes the dream work."
She huffed out a sigh. "I'm breaking up with you."
He smirked. "Liar."
Her lips twitched. "Tomorrow."
"I'll look for your letter," he said and bowed his head.
She elbowed him in the side and went to help Tom with the chickens' blanket. Nick stood rubbing the spot with a faux grumpy expression, but soon gave it up when she ignored him. They got the ladies settled and climbed back into the car, and soon they were back on the road, the darkness and fear of that storm cellar left far behind.
Tom did, as Nick had predicted, slow them down. He got cranky after too long in the car, and he needed pee stops more frequently than either of them did, but they didn't mind. His sunny presence and natural enthusiasm for nearly everything was more than worth the trade off.
They stopped a few hours after the tornado to stretch their legs and refill the gas tank. Tom helped Nick unload one of the gas cans from the back and refill the tank, then he gestured for Tom to wait by the car while he and Kai went to refill the can. He grabbed the hose and pump from the back and they headed down the road toward a small snarl of cars a dozen or so yards away.
Newer cars were harder to siphon from, but they'd learned the trick of it after a few false starts. The pump made it go faster; relying on gravity took way too long. Kai gestured toward a big black SUV and Nick nodded. She pried the tank open with a flat head screwdriver and took the hose from him. It was cut on an angle, to be sharp and pointed, and she used it like a corkscrew to get past the anti-rollover valve that was designed to prevent this exact thing.
The hose popped through and she gave him a thumbs up. He worked the pump with his foot, and after a moment gas started to flow into the can. She leaned against the car to wait her turn at the pump and raised her face to the sun.
He tapped her arm to get her attention. "You want to talk about what happened back there?"
"In the cellar?"
"Sure, but I more meant after. When you stayed in the barn."
She frowned and wrapped her arms around her middle. Then, "I don't know. It was probably just my imagination."
He lifted a skeptical brow. "What we felt down there wasn't just the creeps, Kai. It was real. It was like the dreams, when he's stalking us through the corn."
"It was like what happened to me at the drug store that night." She'd told him about her trip into town the night he fell sick. She shivered. "Only worse. Heavier. He's…I don't know. Stronger, maybe?"
"He probably has some people now. The ones who accepted his offer." He studied her face with a careful eye. "You went back."
She sighed. "I heard…my name. A voice whispering my name. Like I said, probably my imagination, but…I couldn't stop myself. I don't know what would've happened if Tom hadn't called me when he did."
"I wouldn't have let you go back down there. You know that."
"Would you have stopped me in time? You were busy with the chickens."
His head tilted. "I guess another thing we have to thank Tom for."
She nodded agreement. "He's—more than he seems. Don't you think?"
"Much more. He can't read, but he understood my drawings of the chicken coop immediately. And he's good, Kai. Deeply good. I don't mean because he's disabled and disabled people are all saintly angels who can do no wrong. It's just him."
"I know," she said. She knelt beside the gas can and gave it a few taps. "I think that's got it." Together they unhooked the hose and pump, and he screwed the lid back on the can.
"Maybe I couldn't have stopped you in time, but I would've gone in after you," he said.
She smiled. Leaned in and kissed him. "My hero. I know you would have."
"Though probably by the time I got in there you would've done some kinda witchy thing and had him running for cover, tail between his legs."
"I'm not a witch!"
He just grinned and picked up the can with both hands so he couldn't reply.
"It isn't that heavy, you big faker."
His eyes widened in exaggerated apology and he gave a helpless shrug. She rolled her eyes. Fell in step beside him and grabbed the handle, and in the end they carried it back to the car together.
July 22 - Pratt, Kansas
They spent the night in an old apple orchard, and that morning Tom and Nick found one tree still producing fruit. They returned with armfuls of hard, unripe apples, and Kai gave them a skeptical look. She ate two, Nick ate four, and Tom ate about ten—despite Nick and Kai's efforts to stop him.
Within a few hours he was sick, and after stopping several times to let him out of the car, they decided they'd get him some medicine in the next town they passed through. It turned out to be Pratt, Kansas, and Kai pulled the car up to a local drug store and cast Nick a look. She hadn't been in a drug store since the night he got sick, and she didn't want to change that now.
"I'll go," he said. "Do we need anything else?"
"Get something for the dehydration. Pedialyte or, if you have to, Gatorade or whatever."
He nodded and they got out of the car. She escorted a groaning, protesting Tom to a bench, and he stretched out on it with a moan.
"You were right, laws yes," he said. "Tom shoulda stopped at two apples."
"It's okay, Tommy. Nick's going to get you something for it now."
He patted Tom's shoulder, gave Kai's hand a squeeze, and went inside. The first thing he noticed was the smell of perfume, which was definitely better than smelling corpses. The place seemed empty at first glance. He paused at the front counter to grab some mints and pop one in his mouth, then wandered toward the stomach aisle.
He passed the beauty section and paused. Since when did they have mannequins in drug stores?
The mannequin dropped the bottle she held and her hand flew to her mouth. Nick blinked at her. Not a mannequin: a real human person. A girl. Alive.
"Are you real?!" she said. She hurried around the counter and stopped in front of him. Ran her hands up his chest and and down his arms. Startled, Nick shrugged out of her hold and took a step back.
"What's with the eyepatch? You a pirate or somethin'?" She smirked. "I like pirates."
She was pretty, green-eyed with long cotton candy pink hair. She wore a long, flouncy pink skirt and a sparkly tank top with no bra, along with half a dozen heavy, expensive-looking diamond and gemstone necklaces. He had a feeling they were real. A tiara perched on her head, but that was probably paste. Who in Pratt, Kansas would have a real diamond tiara?
Her eyes narrowed. "If you're real, say something."
He pressed his hands over his ears and shook his head. His palm over his mouth and shook it again. She frowned a moment before understanding dawned.
"You're a deaf-mute!" She laughed so hard her whole body shook and slapped her hand against her thigh. "Just my fucking luck! First living person I've seen in weeks and he's a goddamn deaf-mute! Jesus fucking Christ!"
Nick's brow quirked and he pulled his notepad out of his pocket. "My name is Nick Andros," he wrote. "Yes, I'm deaf & mute. I'm traveling with my friends Tom Cullen, who is developmentally disabled, & Kai d'Arnaud." He debated clarifying his relationship with Kai, but decided that could wait. "We're headed for Hemingford Home, NE."
She took the note and read it with an increasingly incredulous expression. "Developmentally—you mean he's a 'tard?! A mutey and a 'tard?!"
Nick scowled and gave a sharp shake of his head. "Don't call him that," he wrote, and underlined it twice.
She rolled her eyes. "Fine, whatever. Sorrrrry." She cut him a look and her eyes twinkled with mischief. "My name's Julie Lawry, and I've been all alone way too long." She pressed in closer, so that her breasts were snug against his chest, and gave him what she probably thought was a winsome smile.
"You're cute. I've never banged a mutey before." Her hand snaked up his arm again and around the back of his neck, and as she tried to pull him down for a kiss he jerked back.
Suddenly she jumped away like she'd been burned, and she spun on her heel so that her back was to him. He looked up, confused, and his good eye widened when he saw Kai. He shook his head and took a step away from Julie, but Kai just gave him a knowing smirk.
"I wondered what was taking so long, but I see you're in here making new friends," she said.
"You must be Kai," Julie said. She sauntered a few steps closer. "He didn't say you're a girl. A hot girl." She paused. Frowned. "Is he gay?"
Nick angled himself so that he could read her lips, and at that he rolled his eyes.
Kai's gaze darted to him a moment. Her brows flicked upward and he could tell she was fighting a grin. "No, he's not gay. He's just a little shy," she said.
He scowled at her and scribbled a note. Julie ignored it, but he tapped her on the arm until she took it with an annoyed glower.
"Ohhh. You two are—well, if I'd known that, I would've invited you to join us," she said with a suggestive half-smile.
That wasn't at all what he'd been expecting, and he almost dropped his pen. Kai was unfazed. She stepped closer to Julie and looked down at her with a lifted brow. There was probably a bigger height difference between Kai and Julie than Kai and Nick, and he swallowed around a suddenly tight throat.
After a moment she ran a lock of Julie's hair between her fingers and her lips curved. "I like your hair."
She beamed and drew in a deep breath to ensure Kai had a view straight down her top. "Thanks, sugar," she said. Her eyes flicked to Kai's chest, then back to her face. "You got gorgeous…skin." She darted a quick look to Nick and moved so that she and Kai were nearly pressed together. "We could have some fun, all three of us," she murmured and skimmed a palm up Kai's arm. "Tell me somethin', just between us girls: is it true what they say about muteys?"
Kai's head tilted, and only Nick noticed the subtle change in her expression. "I don't know. What is it that they say?"
Julie cast Nick a coquettish look and rested a hand on Kai's hip. "That they got a few extra inches below the belt to make up for what's missin' upstairs."
Kai's mouth quirked. "Go get Tom's stuff," she signed to Nick. "I'll keep our new friend company."
"I don't think she's going to fit in," he signed back.
"No, I don't think she is."
"Hey, no fair!" Julie said. "I don't understand! That's rude."
"Sorry," Kai said as Nick slipped away to find the medicine. "You said just between us girls, so I thought it would be better if he made himself scarce."
Julie snickered. "So is it? Big?"
"Big enough. How old are you?"
"Twenty-three. My name's Julie, by the way." She tossed her pink hair over one shoulder, fully aware of how her body moved against Kai's when she did it. "My friends call me Angel, or Angel Face because I'm so pretty. They're all dead now, but whatever. They were bitches anyway. I go to the cosmetology school a few towns over—or I did, before. I did my hair myself."
"Good job," she said, but she was only half paying attention.
"Sorry you had to walk in on that. He didn't tell me you guys were a thing. We were talkin'—or, ya know, he was writin' and I was talkin'—and suddenly he started comin' on to me. I mean, he was all over me! Grabbed my ass and told me I have nice tits. Which is true, but I was sorta surprised."
Now Kai's gaze zeroed in on Julie's face. "Then why'd you ask if he's gay?"
She blinked. "Huh?"
"You asked me if Nick's gay. I assumed it was because he rebuked your advance, but now you're saying he came onto you—so I'm confused."
"Oh!" She laughed and tossed her hair again. "Just after he grabbed my tits he wasn't hard or anything, so I was wonderin' if he was doin' that thing gay guys do, where they act all over-the-top straight, but really they're gay."
"He grabbed your ass and your tits? Wow, he works fast."
"Oh, uh—one hand on my ass and the other on my chest." She lowered her voice, as though Nick could've overheard them. "You know how men are. They can't control themselves." She smiled and looked up at Kai through her lashes. "Not like girls. Girls know how to take their time and really have fun."
Under different circumstances—Nick notwithstanding—Kai might've been interested. But this girl gave off dangerous vibes, and her lies about Nick (in addition to her casual use of the term mutey) were major red flags. She heard the squeak of Nick's boots against the linoleum, and he appeared from the next aisle over to join them. He waved the bottle of Pepto and nodded toward the front of the store.
"Someone got a sad tummy?" Julie said with a little moue to her full mouth.
"Our friend Tom," Kai said as she stepped away.
She rolled her eyes. "The 'tard. Figures."
Kai's lips parted and she glanced at Nick, who grimaced in acknowledgement. He wrote a quick note and waved it at Julie.
"Right sorry I forgot! Not supposed to call him that," she said to Kai. "Not like he's in here to hear it anyway."
Kai gave a tight, brittle smile. "Well, Julie, it certainly was nice to meet you. We'll be on our way now."
"Hey wait!" she said. "What the hell?!"
Nick couldn't hear her and Kai ignored her as they walked out of the store and left her behind. They exchanged looks, Nick's sheepish, Kai's mostly amused.
"Nothing happened," he said. "She shoved her tits in my face and tried to kiss me, but I stopped her. That's when you walked in."
"You don't have to explain yourself to me. I wasn't worried."
Behind them Julie burst out of the store in a cloud of cotton candy fury. "What the fuck?! Are you leaving me? I thought we were gonna have some fun!"
Over on the bench Tom craned his neck their way, curious despite his sorry state. Nick ignored Julie and went to Tom, opening the bottle of Pepto as he went. He held it out, but Tom, who seemed enthralled by Julie, gave a distracted shake of his head.
Julie noticed his regard and sauntered his way with an extra swing in her hips. Kai rolled her eyes and followed.
"Hey, big boy," Julie said. "I heard you have a tummy ache!" She put on a pout. "Poor baby. Now mean ol' Nick here's tryin' to make you drink that nasty medicine."
Tom's face scrunched. "It—it don't taste good, but Nick's smart. He's my friend."
She leaned toward him, her top clinging on for dear life, and took a deep breath. "You know what I heard, honey?"
Tom, wide-eyed and tongue-tied, could only shake his head.
"I heard that stuff was poison! It's got ground up cockroaches in it!"
Tom yelped and shoved himself back on the bench. "Poison?! Tom Cullen don't drink poison! Daddy said if it'd kill the rats it'd kill Tom!"
Nick and Kai gave her matching looks of pure loathing. Kai grabbed her arm and pulled her away while Nick tried to reason with Tom through pantomime.
"You need to go," Kai hissed. "Take your tits and your bullshit and go find someone else to harass."
Julie let out a high, nasty laugh. "Nice try, sweetheart, but your pretty little boy toy likes me a whole lot. I lied earlier: he grabbed me and was hard as a rock. If you hadn't come in he woulda fucked me right there on the floor!"
Nick caught part of that as he spun away from Tom in frustration. He jammed the cap back on the Pepto and yanked his notepad from his pocket. "We don't need you," he wrote in all caps. He held it out to her, and she took it with a sneer.
"Fuck you!" she cried. "Fuck you and your tiny dick! Your retard friend and your butch girlfriend! I don't need you either!" She gave them the finger and took off down the street. When she disappeared into a shop on the corner they let out sighs of relief.
Kai glanced at Nick, a frown creasing her brow. "Am I really that butch?"
He grinned. "Only compared to a pink-haired brat in a tiara. I think she was just mad because you're tall. And you didn't want to fuck her."
"Yeah, well, you're taller than me, and you didn't want to fuck her first."
"Are you saying if I'd wanted to, you'd—?"
"No. I try to avoid crazy." She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Dropped down on the bench next to Tom and offered him a smile. "Tommy, didn't you just say Nick's your friend?"
He nodded. His face was red, and tears tracked down his cheeks. She wasn't sure if he was more upset by his illness or what was happening around him, but the two combined weren't helping. "Nick's my best friend, I think. You and Nick."
"Okay, then, do you think Nick or I would ever try to give you something that would hurt you? We care about you and just want you to feel better." She kept her voice low and soothing, but when she reached for the bottle of Pepto he shook his head.
"I know you wouldn't, I know you're my friends and you're smart, but Tom don't like medicine, no siree! And he don't drink no ground cockroaches!"
She looked up at Nick. He knelt in front of Tom and patted his knee. Took the bottle from Kai and took a big swig.
"See?" Kai said. "It's safe. It tastes kinda minty."
Tom squeezed his eyes shut and rocked in place. "She called Tom a bad word. A real mean word. We don't use that word. It's a mean word."
Kai sighed, softly, and cast a furious glare down the street in the direction Julie had gone. "I know, honey. She was mean, and that's why we told her to leave." She motioned for Nick to put the Pepto away; clearly they weren't getting any into Tom any time soon, and if they kept trying they'd just upset him more.
Nick pulled a bottle of cherry red Gatorade out of his pocket and tapped Tom's knee with it. He opened his eyes a crack, then wider. "Is that for Tom?"
Nick nodded.
"I like the red kind."
Nick pointed at Tom's suspenders, then at the bottle. Tom's face lit up. "Red like Tom's 'spenders! Laws yes, that's right."
Nick opened the bottle and handed it over, and Tom took a long drink before giving an exaggerated sigh, like in a soda commercial. "That's good stuff!"
Nick and Kai both grinned, and Nick ruffled Tom's hair. "You feel like getting back in the car? I think maybe we should get away from that mean girl."
Tom nodded and slowly pushed himself to his feet. "I feel a little bit better now."
Nick offered Kai a hand and pulled her up from the bench. She fell against him with a little laugh; he dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose, and they turned away toward the car. Tom glanced down the street the other way, and a flash of light caught his attention. His eyes went wide, and he grabbed Nick and Kai with both hands and yanked them to one side.
The shot echoed up and down the street. Kai let out a yelp, but Nick just looked confused.
"Gun!" Tom cried. "She's gotta gun! Run, run!"
Nick stared at him, then turned his head the other direction. Julie Lawry stalked down the middle of the street with a shotgun in her hands, her face contorted with fury and malice. He watched in horror as she pumped another round into the chamber and swung the barrel their way.
Tom shoved them at the car. Nick split toward the passenger side and Tom scrambled for his spot behind the driver. Kai was right behind him, and as the second and third shots rang out, she gave a cry of pain and stumbled.
"You better run!" Julie screamed. "Stupid bitch! How's that feel!? Get the fuck outta my town!"
Tom spun toward her and watched with mouth agape as she fell to her knees. "Kai!" He ran back and lifted her off the ground with one arm and carried her like a football to the car. "Kai, you okay? Can you drive?"
They both ducked as Julie fired again. The driver side window shattered. "Yeah, I'm fine, get in!" She threw herself into the driver seat and hit the ignition button, but they'd left it running for the chickens. She cursed a blue streak and hit it again. Nick's eyes went wide when he saw the bloody handprints she left smeared across it and the steering wheel.
"What happened?! Who's hurt?" he signed, frantically.
She shook her head and put the car in reverse. Slammed on the gas pedal and peeled out. She spun the car in a circle when they were at a safe distance and kept her foot heavy on the gas until she physically couldn't anymore. She hit the brakes, put it in park, and slumped back against the seat.
"Fuck," she signed.
"Kai, you hurt?!" Tom said. He leaned forward from the backseat and patted her arm. "She hit you?"
"It's okay, Tommy." Her voice was weak, her face pale and coated with sweat. "You didn't get cut, did you? When the window broke?"
"No ma'am I'm fine. Laws but you look awful, Kai, don't you just!"
"I can drive," Nick signed. "We have to get you flat. Where did she hit you?"
She pointed at her leg, the one further from him, and he gaped at the blood on her jeans. He got out of the car and hurried around to the other side. Opened the door and caught her as she nearly tumbled out.
The denim was torn all to hell and coated in red where the shot had hit. It was like a horizontal version of his own wound, but luckily she wouldn't have to wait a full day before getting hers treated. Now he just had to make sure she didn't go into shock before he got her someplace safe.
He looked up to find Tom standing next to him, his own face contorted with fear and worry. "That don't look good! Nick, what do we do!?"
Nick pointed at Kai, then at the back seat. He held his hand flat.
Tom frowned, but after a few moments' thought his expression cleared. "Gotta lay her down in the backseat?"
Nick gave a fervent nod. He pointed at Tom, then mimed wrapping his arms around Kai.
"You want me to hold on to her?"
He nodded again, then shooed Tom back into the car. He helped Kai around to the other side, and together he and Tom got her into the backseat, her head and shoulders braced in Tom's lap. Nick got a blanket from the supplies in the back and wrapped it around her, then jumped into the driver seat. They needed somewhere safe, a place they could keep secure if Julie came looking for them.
There was a house they'd passed a few miles back, on their way into Pratt. It had been a big white farmhouse, rambling and welcoming. Kai had pointed it out and mentioned it was the exact type of place she'd always imagined having for herself.
He glanced back at Tom in the rearview mirror and gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile and a thumbs up.
He hoped the house was as empty as it had looked. He didn't have the energy to deal with half-rotten corpses, and he didn't have time to find them somewhere else. He reached back and Kai grabbed his hand. Squeezed.
Nick put the car in gear and headed toward the farmhouse.
Chapter 18: Rae Brentner
Summary:
In the aftermath of their disastrous run-in with Julie Lawry, Nick hurries to treat Kai's wounds and a new ally appears.
Notes:
I'm sorry for getting this out to you so late, dear readers, but my mom was rushed to the hospital yesterday and everything's been crazy. She's doing okay, but obviously I'm still worried. Any kind words about the fic you can spare wouldn't hurt. (yes I just played the "sick mom" card)
More people this chapter yaaay!
Chapter Text
and where was i before the day
that i first saw your lovely face?
now i see it everyday
and i know
Ben Folds, "The Luckiest"
Nick leaned out the farm house's backdoor and waved the all clear. Tom nodded and gathered Kai in his arms. "I'm gonna be real careful, but if I hurt you, I'm sorry," he said. "Me 'n' Nick's gonna get you fixed up just right. M-O-O-N, that spells fixed up."
She smiled up at him and patted his cheek. "I know you will, Tommy. You're my best guys."
The kitchen was bright and sunny this time of day, and like the one at the lake house, it had an island. Nick spread a blanket on the butcher block surface and motioned for Tom to lie her on it. He did, handling her like fine porcelain that might shatter in his big hands, and when he got her settled he took a step back.
His face was pale and white showed all around his eyes. If Nick wasn't careful Tom might go into shock, too, and that was the last thing they needed. Nick smiled at him and squeezed his shoulder, then pointed to Kai. He took Tom's hand in his and pointed from their joined hands to Kai again.
"Hold her hand? Tom can do that, laws yes! It must be hurtin' somethin' fierce!"
Nick nodded and gently guided Tom to the island. He placed Kai's slender, long-fingered hand into Tom's meaty paw and patted them both.
"I'm going to get the supplies from the car," he signed to Kai. He motioned for Tom to stay put and took off out the backdoor. He got Doc Soames' bag from the cargo area, along with the first aid kit. He frowned at the chickens. Maybe while he was working on Kai's leg he could send Tom out here to take care of them.
He didn't need to see all that anyway.
Back inside Tom was still holding Kai's hand, and when Nick came around the island he smiled at them. "Send Tom out for the girls," he signed. "They'll get too hot in the car, and the blood will upset him."
"Tommy, why don't you go see about Miss Ruby and the gals? You might need to bring them in the house if there's no chicken coop."
"Oh laws I clean forgot! But this is a farm. I bet they got chickens." He frowned down at her, then at Nick. "You gonna be okay without me holdin' your hand?"
She smiled. "You did such a great job already, but it's Nick's turn to take care of me now. The ladies need you."
"Yes they do! Okay, Nick, you yell if you need my help. Or I guess you can't yell, but—come find me. And if I see that mean girl I'll come runnin'."
"I don't think she followed us," Kai said. "But you keep your eyes peeled while you're out there."
He saluted them both and headed toward the door. Once it closed behind him Nick took a moment to open as many windows as he could (it was hot and stuffy in the house) before he came back to take her hand in his.
"How bad is it?" he said.
She grimaced. "Hurts like a motherfucker, but I think it's just a graze. Get these jeans off me and let's find out."
He fished through the medical bag and came out with a pair of shears. She glared at him. "You're kidding me."
"It'll be quicker and easier than trying to get them off you. We can find you other jeans."
She sighed and her head fell back. "Yeah all right fine. Go for it."
Starting at the ankle, he cut the leg all the way to her hip. When he peeled back the soggy material he winced. Buckshot. Luckily not a direct hit, or—well. He didn't want to think about the or, because what he was looking at was bad enough.
"I thought it was like mine, but…"
"But?" She craned her head to get a look and the last bit of color drained from her face.
"Okay, calm down, lie back." He pressed her into a prone position and propped her feet up with a wadded up blanket. "Breathe, babe. It's okay."
"You'll—you'll need to clean it first, so you can get a good look." Her hands were so shaky she could barely form the words, and he grabbed one of them and kissed the palm.
"I've got this," he said. "I've got you. Look at me, Kai."
She did, and he was alarmed by her pinpoint pupils and panting breath. "I've got you. We'll get it cleaned up and bandaged, and we still have those antibiotics you got. It's not going to be like me. You're going to be fine." He smiled and brushed her hair back from her damp forehead. "You trust me, don't you?"
She nodded. "Past the end of the world."
He smiled. "Okay then. Stay here. Try to breathe. I'm going to dig up some more towels and I'll be right back." He kissed her hand again, the back of it this time, and left her there while he went to find a linen closet. He had to pause in the hallway out of her sight to take a few deep, steadying breaths.
The good news was it had been a glancing hit. The bad news was the buckshot had left nearly a dozen wounds stippled on her thigh, a few of them nasty looking. Some of the pellets might still be in there. Nick knew he was in over his head, but if Kai could be calm and steady while fishing metal out of his already-infected leg, then he could do the same in her freshly-wounded one.
He picked a door at random, but it was a powder room. The next one down, tall and skinny, turned out to be the closet he sought. He grabbed several washcloths and towels, then rushed back to the kitchen.
The process took longer than either of them would have liked, but with liberal use of the local anesthetic he was able to remove every pellet (eight of them) without too much pain. He used nearly a full bottle of hydrogen peroxide (there was more in the bathroom medicine cabinet), then smeared the entire area liberally with her honey salve before wrapping her thigh in gauze. By then it was swollen and purple, and he knew once the local wore off she would be hurting.
Goddamn Julie Lawry. Crazy little bitch.
He still had a few of the pain pills Doc Soames had given him back in Shoyo, but she would need more. Advil or Tylenol weren't going to do the trick. He'd have to find another pharmacy somewhere, because he couldn't go back into Pratt.
For now he gave her the first two pills in a Z-Pak, two of the pain pills, and an extra Tylenol. She took them with a few sips from a bottle of water and offered him a weak smile.
"You did a great job. Amazing hands, as always."
He smiled back, but it felt hollow. He felt hollow, worn-out and exhausted and scraped raw. He could only imagine how she felt. And Tom. Fuck. He had to go find Tom.
"Stay put," he said. "I'll get Tommy and he can carry you to the bedroom. There's one in the front of the house with its own bathroom; that'll be easier than trying to go upstairs."
She nodded and closed her eyes. Her color was a little better, he was happy to see, but he knew she'd need fluids to replace all the blood she lost. Luckily they'd stocked up on that Pedialyte stuff she liked so much. He'd get more when he went foraging for pain medicine.
He kissed her forehead, softly, and left here there. First he went through the house opening more windows, then he went outside to find Tom. It wasn't hard: there was a large, well-built chicken coop fifty yards or so from the house, and sure enough, Tom was inside getting the ladies settled.
"Nick!" he said. He grinned from ear to ear. "Look at this! It's like a chicken mansion! I don't know where the chickens who lived here before are, but I found some feed in the shed over there, and the pump works just fine. Good sturdy fence to protect against foxes, too. Ain't it nice?"
Nick nodded and tried to smile for Tom's benefit, but he didn't really have it in him. He was too exhausted. Tom seemed to understand this despite his normal struggle with social cues, because he stepped closer and patted Nick on the shoulder.
"It's okay, Nick. Tom took good care of the ladies, and I know you took good care of Kai. How's she doin'?"
Nick made a face and waved his hand in a so-so gesture. He shrugged and ran a hand back through his unruly curls. He'd done his best. He just had to hope that was enough. He gestured for Tom to follow him, and they walked to the house together.
Once inside Tom hurried to the island to check on Kai. "How you feelin'?" he said. "Your leg's bandaged up good! Like a mummy! M-O-O-N, that spells mummy!"
Her mouth curved. "I'm feeling a little better. Nick did a great job getting me all patched up. He gave me some medicine that makes me feel swimmy in my head."
"Hope it didn't have no cockroaches in it!"
"No, sweetheart. No cockroaches. Promise." Her eyes fluttered closed, then open again. "Can't believe a word that girl says, Tommy. She was a bad person."
His brows knitted together. "She called me a bad name."
"I know. She did Nick and me, too. Different bad names, but it all shows what kind of person she is."
Nick hovered behind Tom, and Kai's eyes drifted to him. "Ask him to carry you back to the bedroom. You need to get some rest."
She nodded and focused on Tom again. "Hey, Tommy, do you think you could carry me back to the bedroom? Nick said there's one at the end of the hall. I think I can walk, but Nick says no, and he's the doctor."
"Haha, Doctor Nick! He's real smart. I bet he'd be a good doctor."
"I bet he'd be a great doctor," she said, mostly for Nick's benefit, since Tom's back was to him. "A pirate doctor." She smirked at him, and he saw that the drugs were starting to kick in.
"A pirate doctor!" Tom cried. "Because of the eye patch! You're a mummy and he's a pirate!" He frowned. "What's that make Tom?"
She gave his beard a little tug. "Superman, obviously."
"Yeah!" He spun around and punched the air. "Superman!" He paused and his expression turned pensive again. "You know what though? Can I be Dolly instead? I know she's a real person and Superman's pretend, and I'm a boy and she's a girl, but I think I wanna be Dolly."
She signed what he was saying to Nick, who grinned with genuine delight for only the second time since meeting Julie Lawry—the first being when he'd helped Kai up from the bench and she'd laughed and he'd kissed her nose. That seemed like a thousand years ago, a last moment of innocence before the shooting started. Now he wasn't sure he'd ever get the smell of Kai's blood out of his head, or the sight of her wounded leg and blood-soaked pants as he peeled them away from her skin.
"Of course you can be Dolly," she was telling Tom. "What's your favorite Dolly song?" She held her arms out to him, and he scooped her up off the island.
"That's a real hard question!" he said. "Maybe '9 to 5'? But also 'Jolene'! No, '9 to 5'. Workin' nine to five, / what a way to make a livin'! / Barely gettin' by / it's all takin' and no givin'!" he sang loudly enough to echo up and down the hall.
Kai giggled and her head lolled against Tom's shoulder. Whooo those were some good drugs. She felt like she was floating, but then she realized she sorta was, since she was being carried. Her leg was a dull, aching throb, but a faraway one that she didn't care much about. It would leave a nasty scar. Maybe Nick could kiss them, like the others.
Tom laid her down on the bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, but it was much too hot for such things. She didn't kick them away because she knew he was just trying to help. Instead she smiled at him and patted his cheek.
"You're a good boy, Tommy. Thank you for taking such good care of me."
He blushed bright red and waved a hand. "Friends take care of friends, don't they? And you and Nick are my best friends."
"That's right," she said. Her eyelids felt like they had weights tied to them, and she could feel her attention drifting. "Besties." She struggled awake and glanced at Nick. "Why don't you head out to the car and start unloading a few things? Nick'll be out there to help you in just a minute."
"That's a good idea! It's almost suppertime and Tom's gettin' hungry, ain't I just!" He took Kai's hand in his and stroked it. "You feel better, Kai. We gotta get to Hemingford Home to see Mother Abagail."
"I haven't forgotten. I'll do my best."
He grinned at her, waved at Nick, and left. She could hear him singing "9 to 5" again, and his voice faded until the screen door slammed behind him. She shoved the covers down and peeled off her shirt.
"I can't sleep in this stupid bra," she said. She half sat up to undo the clasp, but Nick stopped her.
"Be still. I'll get it." He unhooked it and draped it over the chair. She still wore the remains of her jeans, so he unbuttoned them and slid what was left down her legs before he helped her back into her top. "I need to go help Tom." The line appeared between his brows. He glanced down the hall and back at her. "I don't want to leave you."
"I'll be okay," she said. "Just gonna sleep."
"Wait, I should—" He stood up and turned a circle until he found what he was looking for. The bed had had several of those decorative little pillows on it, and he'd piled them in the corner. He grabbed a few of them now and carefully bent her knee and stuffed the pillows under it. "I think it should be up like that. Shouldn't it?"
She gave a slow, vague nod. "Reduces swelling. Help me lie flat."
He pulled the pillows out from behind her and carefully rearranged her so that she was stretched out with her bad leg elevated as high as he could get it without too much discomfort.
"Is that okay?" he said.
"S'fine. S'good. Just gotta be above my…" She trailed off and tapped her chest. She smiled at him and booped his nose. "Told you you'd do the same for me."
"Kinda pissed that I have to. Goddamn if I got my hands on that girl—" He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. He didn't really have too much of a temper: he went with the flow and didn't let things get to him. But everyone had a limit, and Julie had sailed past his with barely a pause. Calling Tom and Kai names. Lying about him hitting on her. Fucking around with Tom when he was obviously sick and upset. Then, of course, the cherry bomb on the shit sundae: shooting at them. Shooting Kai.
His knees gave out and he sank down onto the bed with his head in his hands. If her shot had been a little more accurate she could've hit Kai in the back. Or nicked an artery. She could've shot Tom, too. Hell, they could all be dead right now!
He groped for Kai's hand and caught it in a fierce grip. They sat like that a while holding onto each other like clinging to a lifeline. Eventually her fingers went limp in his, and when he turned his head to look at her she was asleep. Her forehead was crinkled and her lips pursed, and he knew she was in pain despite the medication.
He rubbed his thumb across the lines on her brow and planted a soft kiss there. The worry lines eased, and her mouth formed his name. He smiled. Sniffled and rubbed his forearm across his eyes. "I love you," he signed, even though she couldn't see. "I love you, and you're mine, and you're going to be fine. No other option."
July 23
Rae Brentner was two days from home, well on her way to Hemingford Home, Nebraska and Mother Abagail, when the voice told her to turn around and go back. She knew it was Mother Abagail's voice because she'd heard it in her dreams dozens of times by then, but when she heard it in the waking world she wondered if maybe she'd lost her damn mind.
Or—because Rae was a woman confident in her own abilities and mental soundness—if it weren't some trick of the Dark Man's. He'd tried offers and bribes and threats, and so far none of it had worked, so maybe now he was resorting to outright trickery.
Except it didn't feel like a trick, and it didn't feel like the Dark. It felt like Mother Abagail, and it felt important.
So she'd packed her shit, turned her truck around, and headed back to Pratt.
It was closing in on noon when she pulled into her driveway, and somehow she was unsurprised to see a car already there: a small SUV, American. A hybrid. So no one from around here, then. Rae got her shotgun from the back, checked the barrels, and warily climbed from the truck.
The day was already hot, but nothing she wasn't used to. There were tracks in the dust leading from the SUV back to the chicken coop and animal pens. Someone big, heavy, and someone else a bit smaller. She squinted against the sun, but she didn't see anyone moving back there, so she headed for the house.
The back door was open to let a breeze in through the screen. They either hadn't discovered her solar panels or didn't know how to work them. She eased the screen door open, grateful that she kept the springs well oiled, and stepped into her kitchen with the shotgun raised.
A large man in jean shorts, a Superman t-shirt, and red suspenders appeared from the hallway, and when he saw her he threw his hands in the air. He was white, with a crew cut and a bushy beard, and he wore thick glasses on a tether, like he was in the habit of losing them.
"Don't shoot!" he said. "Oh laws oh laws not again! Please don't shoot, ma'am! My name is Tom Cullen and I'm forty-two years old and developmentally disabled. I have trouble recognizing social cues, so please do no be alarmed if my behavior is strange or off-putting. I can't read or write, but I have other skills I can do, including manual labor. Please let me know if you have any odd jobs that you need help with. I live at number Twelve Allen Drive in May, Oklahoma with my mother, Sadie Cullen. Do you have any questions?" He paused a moment, then held up a finger. "Wait, I got more! I'm here with my friends Nick Andros and Kai d'Arnaud. Nick is deaf and mute, and Kai got hurt real bad yesterday. We're on our way to Hemingford Home, Nebraska to see Mother Abagail."
Rae listened to this entire speech with a growing sense of incredulity. What the hell had Mother Abagail sent her home to? She lowered the gun and eased her finger off the trigger. "There are other people here with you?" she said.
The man nodded his big head and beckoned her to follow him. "My friends Nick Andros and Kai d'Arnaud. Nick is deaf and mute—"
"No, it's okay, I got that part. What happened to your other friend? The one who's hurt?"
"Oh laws!" He pressed both hands to his face and wagged his head back and forth. "It was awful, wasn't it jus'?! Yesterday we met this mean girl who called us mean names, so Nick and Kai told her to go away, and we thought she did, but then she came back and she shot at us! She shot Kai! Nick got her all patched up, and we've been takin' turns sittin' with her. It's Nick's turn now, and I was gonna go check on the gals when I walked in and here you are."
"The gals?" He'd only mentioned two people, so who the hell were these gals?
"Miss Ruby and her free range gals! My chickens! Their names are Miss Ruby, Miss Emerald, Miss Opal, and Miss Pearl. M-O-O-N, that spells chickens!" He beamed at her, and Rae felt her own lips twitching in response.
"Well Tom, they sound like wonderful ladies. My name is Rae Brentner, and this is my house. Maybe you should take me back to meet your friends Nick and Kai."
Tom paused a moment. Shifted his weight from one foot to another. "Well…I'd like to do that, but…now that I think about it, how do I know you're not mean like Julie? She seemed nice at first, but then she wasn't nice at all."
Rae set the safety on the shotgun and set it aside. Maybe a mistake, but Mother Abagail had sent her back for a reason, and she didn't think it was to be attacked by a deaf-mute, a developmentally disabled man who loved chickens, and some girl who'd gotten herself shot. "I promise I won't call you names or try to shoot anyone. I was on my way to Hemingford Home, too, when I—" She hesitated a moment. "When I had a dream that I needed to come back here. Mother Abagail told me some people needed my help."
Tom's eyes went wide behind his glasses. "Well ain't that a kick in the head?! She told me to wait for Nick and Kai back in May, and one day there they were! And now we're best friends."
"Well then, seems like she knows what she's talking about."
"I guess so. Okay, they're back here. Nick can read your lips and he can write, but usually Kai says what he says because they both know sign language. Tom knows sign language too! T-O-M, that's Tom!" He chattered the whole way down the hall and showed her all three names he could sign. When they reached the bedroom (Rae's bedroom), he stepped in ahead of her and waved.
Rae peeked around him to see someone slumped over in a chair pulled up to the side of the bed. He stood, alarm written on his face, and she took note of the messy, curly hair. Scruffy beard. Eye patch. The figure in the bed was a woman, thigh bandaged and sweat standing on her face. It was hot in here, despite the open windows. This room got a lot of morning sun.
"Nick, look! This lady here's Rae Brentner, M-O-O-N, that spells Rae Brentner! This's her house! She was on her way to see Mother Abagail when she told her to come home to find us. She had a gun when she came in, but I think she's actually nice and not mean like Julie."
Rae cast him a sharp look. "Julie?"
"Julie Lawry, the mean girl who shot Kai," he said.
"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!" Rae said. "Julie Lawry. Of course it was her."
Nick came around the bed to put himself between them and the woman lying on it. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her, suspicion creasing his forehead and tightening his full mouth.
The women was small, no more than 5'4" or so, with a trim and sturdy figure clad in dusty cords and a dark blue button up blouse. She wore cowboy boots and a much-loved brown hat, and her long black hair was plaited down her back. She looked like she was Native American, maybe, but he wasn't sure. Her face was lined from the sun and—he thought—laughter. It was a kind face. A good face. Something told him he could trust her, but after yesterday he was more wary of strangers.
"My name is Nick Andros. I'm deaf and mute. I can read and write, and I'm fluent in ASL. I can also read lips." Written below that in a different pen, "I'm traveling with Tom Cullen, a mentally disabled man, and Kai d'Arnaud. We're on our way to Hemingford Home, NE and Mother Abagail."
Everything Tom had told her in the kitchen. As Rae read the note, Nick had pulled out his pad and scribbled something else. They traded pieces of paper. "How the hell do you know Julie Lawry?"
Rae rolled her eyes and shoved the note in her pocket. "That little bitch has been a bane on this town her entire life. My son started going out with her sophomore year of high school—they're the same age—and I didn't like it, but at first she seemed fine. Polite. He was crazy about her. Turns out she was just plain crazy.
"She'd show up here at all hours of the night, call any time she pleased. She had to know where he was every second, and if she even thought he was talkin' to another girl, she'd flip out. Finally he couldn't take it anymore and broke up with her. That night she showed up with a baseball bat and bashed out half the downstairs windows before the Sheriff got here and hauled her off."
Nick flinched.
"I can't believe she survived this goddamn thing."
"I guess he's gotta have people too," he wrote.
She snorted. "Unfortunately." Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. "You look 'bout half dead on your feet. Tom here told me your friend was shot. Mind if I take a look? I was a nurse before I met my husband and moved here to become a full-time farmer."
A visible wave of relief passed over him, and he waved her around the bed. On her way she stopped and picked up a framed picture from the top of the bureau. "This's my husband and me on our wedding day, twenty-two years ago this past April. In case you're wonderin' if this really is my house."
Nick took the picture from her and studied it a moment before handing it over to Tom.
"Well I'll be!" he said. "It's a small world, ain't it just!"
Rae looked up from studying Kai's bandage and for a moment her eyes met Nick's. "Hey, Tom, weren't you on your way to check on the chickens?"
"Yes I was! Gotta go see about the girls! You okay, Nick?"
Nick nodded and held up his hand in an okay gesture.
"Okee dokee! See ya later." He saluted, then waved, and left the room.
Nick nodded his thanks to Rae. He pointed at Kai's leg, then back the way Tom had gone, and shook his head.
"No, nothing he needs to see." Rae touched Kai's forehead, and her eyes fluttered open. When she saw an unfamiliar face above her, she shrank back against the pillows. "It's okay," Rae said, her voice low and soothing. "My name's Rae Brentner. This's my house. Look, Nick's right there."
She turned her head, and when she saw him her entire body relaxed. He signed something to her, and she glanced back at Rae. "Mother Abagail sent you?" she said.
Rae nodded. "A voice out of the blue. Thought I was losin' my mind."
"Ha. Same thing happened to me. I'll tell you about it sometime."
"You do that. Okay, I'm gonna take this bandage off to get a look, and you walk me through what happened."
Nick perched on the bed beside her, and she signed as she spoke. She told Rae about Tom's illness, meeting Julie, the horrible things she'd said. Rae rolled her eyes again and gave a knowing nod.
"Vicious little bitch."
She told her about getting shot, and Nick took over to explain how he'd gotten her back here and cleaned the wound. "I need to go into town—not Pratt!—to get something else for the pain. I only had a couple of pills left, and they've worn off. Low on bandages, too. There are some gloves in the doctor's bag there, but we need some more."
She grabbed one of the last pairs of gloves and snapped them on. "What did you give her?"
Nick pointed toward the nightstand, and Rae picked up the empty prescription bottle to study the label. "This is from right before the flu," she said.
"He was attacked," Kai told her. "Some assholes jumped him on the road outside Shoyo, Arkansas. A doctor there got him patched up and wrote him that prescription." She gritted her teeth against the pain as Rae peeled the bandage off her leg. "Then, later, the lead asshole came back to try to finish the job. That's how he lost his eye."
Rae cut him a look. "Is that why you already had the antibiotics?" She'd noticed the Z-Pak on the nightstand too.
He nodded. "Kai got them back in Arkansas." He explained about shooting himself and the subsequent infection, and Rae's mouth moved in a grim curve.
"Sounds like you two've been through it."
"A little bit," Kai said. "How's my leg?"
"What is this?" Rae said. "Why's it all sticky?"
"Oh. That's my salve. Honey, yarrow, and calendula."
She lifted a brow. Used the wet washcloth Nick had for Kai's brow to wipe the honey off her skin. "Where'd you learn that?"
Kai let out a long, pained breath and her face scrunched. Nick squeezed her hand; she flashed him a grateful smile. "My Grandmère."
Nick signed something and Kai glared at him. "I'm not a witch! Jerk."
Rae studied the look that passed between them, and a question was answered. The boy was clearly head over heels for her, worshipped the very ground she walked on and the air she breathed. The girl would take a leg full of buckshot for him any day, and she positively glowed when he raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.
They'd been through it, as Rae had said, but at least they'd had each other. Clearly, to them, that made all the rest worth it.
"You did a good job here," Rae told him. She pressed lightly against the wounds, very aware of Kai's pain, and leaned down to sniff her leg. "I don't see any signs of infection. Looks like you got all the shot out, too. Got any more of that salve?"
Nick pointed out the jar on the nightstand, and Rae nodded. "Good. Some of these deeper wounds need to be packed. Just…these two here, I think. Have you been cleaning them?"
"This morning," Kai said. "With saline."
"Almost out of that, too," Nick said with a frown.
"Okay. I'm going to use the last of it to soak these gauze pads to pack the two deeper ones. After that I'll redress it with your honey salve. For now I want you to stay put, but starting tonight we need to get you up and walking. Up and down the hall at first, then longer." She took note of the Pedialyte bottles. "Excellent. Someone knows their patient care."
"My wife was a doctor," Kai said. "She stopped practicing not long after we got married, but I paid attention."
"Smart girl. After I finish here, Nick, Tom, and I will go get the solar panels started again. No one needs to be in pain in a house this hot."
Nick and Kai exchanged a glance. "Solar panels?" she said.
"Mhmm." Rae had turned away to prepare the packing. "The farm is entirely energy independent. Has been for the last ten years or so. Before I left for Nebraska I shut it all down, wrapped the panels to keep them safe from the weather. Just in case. Won't be hard to get it all goin' again, especially with help."
"How long have you been here?"
She turned back and cast Nick a look. He nodded and took Kai's hand in his. "Squeeze as hard as you need," he signed with his free hand.
"As long as we've been married," Rae said. She gently folded the gauze into smaller pieces and packed them into each wound as she spoke. Kai gritted her teeth and tried to listen. "My husband died two years ago. Cancer. My son came back to help out after college, and my daughter was a sophomore at Berkley. The flu took them."
"I'm sorry," Kai said.
Rae's brows lifted in a shrug. "Same story for all of us, ain't it? Some white man somewhere gets cocky and there we all go. Finished what they started with smallpox and syphilis."
"At least they took themselves out too, this time," Kai said with a brief, strained grin.
Rae smiled back. "Cherokee," she said.
"Kānaka Maoli. Hawaiian. Half, on my mother's side."
She nodded as if that were another question answered. "When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?"
"Ummm…"
"More than fifteen years ago?"
"Maybe?"
"If you don't know, then you need one." She looked at Nick. "I hope you're making a list."
He tapped his temple and nodded.
"After we get the solar panels going Nick and I can head into town—not Pratt, don't worry—and grab the supplies we need. How are y'all on food?"
"Not bad," Kai said. "Mostly canned stuff, of course. We've got a good amount of water, too."
"Once the electricity's going again, the well pump will work." She smiled and finished wrapping Kai's leg. "So will the hot water heater."
"Hallelujah," Kai said. Nick nodded fervent agreement.
"Like I said, it looks good. Keep up the antibiotics, clean and re-wrap it at least twice a day, and let's get you that tetanus shot. Also we have to make sure you're getting plenty of fluids and eating well. You can start walking tonight, but no strenuous exercise"—she cut Nick a look as she said it—"for at least a week."
"What's she think I'm gonna do?" he signed to Kai when Rae turned her back. "Make you run a marathon?"
Kai snickered, and Rae turned back with arms crossed over her chest. "Yes, that does mean exactly what you think it means. Don't make me separate you two."
"No, ma'am," Kai said. "I hurt too much for strenuous exercise anyway."
"Mhmm. For now."
"Is this your bedroom?" Kai said. "I can move upstairs if—"
"No, don't be silly. Yes, it's my bedroom, but you don't need to navigate the stairs. Once it's cool enough to be habitable I'll sleep in my daughter's room, and Tom can have my son's. You two stay down here." She gave Kai a long look. "You're about my daughter's size. She was a little shorter, but close enough. There are some sundresses, things like that, up in her closet. Easier for you to wear than pants or even shorts while you heal."
"Thank you," Kai said. "I'm glad we chose your house."
Rae smiled a little. "I'm glad Mother Abagail sent me back." She patted Kai's arm and gave it a squeeze. "Hang tight. We'll go get the power up and running, then we'll be quick as we can with those pain meds. In the meantime, Advil." She handed her a bottle of water and four tablets. "No time to mess around; prescription strength. You don't have an ulcer, do you?"
She shook her head and swallowed the medicine. "No, my stomach is fine."
"Good. Any allergies?"
A brief shrug. "Pollen."
"Okay. Nick, I'll go get Tom and meet you outside. Don't be long."
He nodded and signed his thanks. Rae left them there, and he wiped a hand over his forehead like he was exhausted. He (gently) collapsed next to her, and she grinned.
"She's very efficient," she said.
"We lucked out. She used to be a nurse. Her house has solar panels! I feel better about all of this."
"Me too," she said. She touched his cheek with gentle fingers. "She said you did a good job. Even without her I would've been just fine."
"Hopefully," he said. "I'm still glad she's here." His expression turned pensive. "I can't believe you handled everything by yourself when I was sick. I didn't realize—I mean, you told me, but—I didn't really understand just how scary it must've been."
"Hmm. Well, to be fair, I only kind of sort of liked you back then. Not like now, when I'm really attached."
His face scrunched and he poked her shoulder. "Liar."
She smiled up at him. "Kiss me and go help get the AC turned on. Rae was right: it's too hot to be in his much pain." He did, long and easy and slow. His tongue curled against hers and his lips were soft and familiar as breathing. He felt the little hum of pleasure she made, and he pulled away to kiss her forehead and her nose.
"Love you," he said.
"I love you too. Thank you."
His head tilted in a question.
She shrugged. "I don't know. Being you. Putting up with me. All of it."
"Any day. Every day," he said. His mouth quirked. "You're stuck with me now."
She fisted her hand in his shirt and tugged him back for another kiss. "Good," she said. "Now go, before she thinks we're up to strenuous activity and makes you sleep on the couch."
"It's mean to tease, Kai. A week is a really long time."
"Poor baby. Maybe we can figure something out." She kissed him again, then gently pushed him away. He paused in the door to study her, and she gave him a puzzle looked. "What?"
"Nothing," he said with a wistful smile. "Just—I'm glad I met you."
She tried to fight a grin. "Sap."
His lips curved in that half-smile. "Yep. Get some rest. I'll be back soon."
"I know you will," she said.
Chapter 19: Shelter
Summary:
Flagg makes another offer.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
i was burned out from exhaustion buried in the hail
poisoned in the bushes and blown out on the trail
hunted like a crocodile ravaged in the corn
"come in," she said
"i'll give you shelter from the storm"
Bob Dylan, "Shelter From the Storm"
Rae made good on her promise (threat?) and had Kai walk mostly under her own power to the living room for dinner. Nick helped her into a recliner and made sure she was comfortable, and Tom brought out the food with a bow. He grinned at her like it was all a big game, and she couldn't help but grin back.
They settled in to eat the chicken noodle casserole Rae had made, but Kai couldn't eat nearly as much as she wanted to. Her stomach churned with pain-inspired nausea, and she passed her plate to Tom once she was through.
"Sorry, Rae," she said. "That was delicious, really, but food doesn't feel like my friend right now."
"Probably should've started you with something a little lighter. The mom side of me took over, at least temporarily."
Nick grinned down at his empty plate. "Mom side can take over any time. That was amazing."
Rae gave him a puzzled smile. "It was just a casserole. Nothing fancy."
He shrugged. "Doesn't have to be fancy to be good."
"He likes food," Kai said. "As a baker, it's a character trait I appreciate."
Tom jumped up to clear their plates, then sat on the floor to play with one of his race tracks. Kai closed her eyes and leaned back against the chair's cushy headrest. She might have dozed off, but she heard the rustle of Nick's notepad, the rip of a sheet being torn off, and then Rae.
"I told Tom it was a dream because that was easier at the time, but no. I just heard her voice out of the clear blue sky. She told me to get on home, because I was needed here. After weeks of urging me to Nebraska, it seemed…contradictory. I almost ignored it, because maybe it was him, but…"
"I didn't feel like him," Kai said when Rae trailed off.
"No, it didn't," she said.
"Something similar happened to me, like I said before." She told her about that last morning in Abilene: the dream, Remy coming home sick, and the voice in the kitchen. "I didn't recognize it as Mother Abagail's at the time, but later, once I met her, I knew."
"I'm glad we're not hearing him when we're awake," Rae said with a shudder.
Nick and Kai exchanged a look, but neither of them mentioned the incident with the cellar. "You've met him, then?" Nick said. "In the corn?"
Rae nodded. "He made me an offer, but I said no."
"Same with us," Kai said. "When Nick was so sick." She hesitated. Her face scrunched. "It…was tempting. Especially when I woke up and Nick was still unconscious. I wondered if I'd made the right choice."
"It was designed to be tempting," Rae said. "Otherwise what would be the point?"
"It's interesting, this group," Nick said. When Rae and Kai gave him matching questioning looks, he continued. "I just mean—look at us. A non-white, bisexual deaf-mute. A non-white, bisexual woman. A developmentally disabled man. A non-white woman. We're like Jesse Jackson's Rainbow Coalition meets the end of the world."
"Marginalized people who might, in theory, be more susceptible to that type of temptation," Rae said. "Is that what you mean?"
Nick shrugged. "Yeah, actually. He offered me a chance to turn the tables on the guys who jumped me. Everyone who ever gave me shit throughout my life. Beat me up for being brown or deaf or…any other goddamn reason they found. I think anyone who's been in that position has dreamt about flipping the script, being the tormentor and not the one being tormented. Having the power for once."
"I think that's his mistake, though," Kai said. "I think when you've been genuinely victimized, you understand that…there's no real satisfaction to be gained from hurting someone like that. The failure of evil is to assume that everyone wants to be what it is. That everyone wants to be small and nasty and petty, and to hurt people to make themselves bigger."
"Like Julie," Nick said.
"It's a sort of vicious pleasure, I guess, bein' like her," Rae said. "I just wonder how long it lasts."
"Not long, I'm thinking, or she wouldn't have escalated to shooting," Kai said with a sardonic twist to her mouth.
"She couldn't handle being told no," Nick said. "First by me, then Kai, then when we sent her packing."
"No about what?" Rae said.
Nick looked briefly embarrassed. "She hit on us. First me, then Kai. We both declined."
"Ha. That's kinda what I figured. That girl never did have any shame."
"Strange that out of all the people in the world, two people from the same small town survived the flu," Kai said.
"And on opposite sides," said Nick.
"You two didn't know each other before?" Rae said.
"That would've been something. No, we met in Arkansas." Kai paused. "We dreamt about each other, and then—Mother Abagail told me how to find him."
Rae smiled and her whole face crinkled with it. "Mother Abagail the matchmaker."
"Mother Abagail told me to wait in May for Nick and Kai. She didn't say Nick and Kai but she said nice people, so I waited, and then there they were," Tom said.
They hadn't thought he was paying attention, and his sudden contribution startled them.
"None of us found each other accidentally," Nick said. "We were—herded."
"Do you think we're livestock, Nick?" Rae said.
"I don't know," he said with a frown. He pushed himself up from his chair and wandered toward the window. His shoulders were tense, his pace restless. "It's what it feels like. It's not that I regret—any of it." He spared a smile for Kai. "I just wish—I felt more in control. Less like I was someone else's chess piece being moved here or there."
"Have you ever read the Bible?" Rae said.
Kai translated reluctantly, because she knew how he would react—and she was right.
Nick shook his head and thrust his hands out in a gesture of frustration. "Is that it, then? Because some invisible old man in the sky wants the world to end, it ends? Because he wants us alive and together, we are? And we have no choice? Like Job or Moses or—his own fucking son?!"
"I don't have answers for you," Rae said. "I lost a lot of my faith when cancer took my husband. Now I've lost my children, too, but people like Julie Lawry are still alive to spew their poison into the world. It doesn't make sense."
Much of his ire drained away and he scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Rae. I'm not angry with you, and it's not your job to answer these questions. It just"—he glanced at Kai—"it all becomes different when you have something to lose."
Kai smiled at him, her eyes soft and bright. "Maybe that's why we're being herded together. So that we do have something to lose. Because this flu took from all of us, and it would be easy to just give up. What does it matter, there's no one left I love…."
Her fingers spread in a shrug. "Humans are social animals. We crave touch and bonds and interaction with others. So here we are, finding new people to care about. New people to make the fight worth it. It's shitty we had to go through that to get to here, and I don't like feeling like a chess piece any more than you do, but this, apparently, is the world now. And so far Mother Abagail hasn't steered us wrong."
Nick acknowledged that with a tilt of his head. "Maybe all of this will make more sense when we finally meet her face to face," he said.
"I think it will," Rae said. "At least somewhat." She glanced at Kai, who shifted her weight in the chair and grimaced at the pain. "Let's give Kai a day or two, then we'll see what her pain level's like. Trying to sleep in a tent with an injury like that isn't something I'd wish on my worst enemy."
"I'm tough," Kai said. "I hate to slow us down."
"We're not going anywhere for at least another twenty-four hours," Rae said, sternly. "I'd prefer forty-eight, but we'll see. Consider that nurse's orders."
"Yes, ma'am," she said.
"Good girl. Now I think maybe Nick should help you back to bed and you should take a couple of those pain pills. There's no reason to sit here hurting, and you need your rest. Stay here with me, Tommy," she said when he jumped to his feet to help. "Do you know how to play Old Maid?"
Nick and Kai shared a grin as he helped her out of the chair. She tried to walk more or less on her own, but halfway there she gave up and leaned against him.
He helped her to the bathroom and turned his back while she peed (not that she really cared), then stood nearby while she brushed her teeth. He stepped in behind her to hold her around the waist, and when she bent to spit into the sink she gave him a smirk in the mirror.
"I see you, Mr. Andros," she said.
He schooled his face into a look of perfect innocence. "I don't know what you mean, Ms. d'Arnaud."
"And I suppose that's just a toothbrush in your pocket?"
"Ouch. A bit bigger than a toothbrush, thank you!"
She lifted a brow.
He let out a silent huff. "I've just never seen you in a dress before and it's giving me ideas, that's all. But I know—no strenuous activity."
"Get me to bed and get a couple pain pills into me and maybe we can discuss some light making out."
"Deal." He helped her change, then got her settled in the bed with her leg propped up. She swallowed two pain pills and her antibiotic, and he settled in next to her with his book, one hand resting lightly on her good leg.
She turned her head to watch him as he read: the halo of dark curls; the line of concentration between his brows; the strong line of his nose with the slight crook near the top. He felt the weight of her gaze and glanced over at her with a question on his brow. She shook her head. Touched his cheek with gentle fingers.
"If you weren't okay you would tell me, right?" she said.
He slid his bookmark between the pages and set the book aside. "You mean about earlier?"
"Yes. I knew you were frustrated, but I didn't know it was so bad."
"I am frustrated, but…" He scrubbed his face with both hands, and when he looked at her again his good eye was bright. "She could've killed you, Kai. Or blown your fucking leg off, which might have done the same thing. I need you to understand—it's not that I don't care about people. Of course I do. I cared about the Sheriff and Mrs. Baker. I cared about Doc Soames. But—it's different with you. You're different. And I just don't understand why the fuck Mother Abagail's god would choose us for this only to have one of us die so stupidly."
"I know," she said. "I felt the same way when you were sick. But, Nick—we're not dead. Either of us. You got better and I'm going to be fine."
"I know," he said. "I do know that." He lifted his hands. "I don't even know what to say. Don't get shot again, Kai! As if you meant for it to happen. As if any of us could've predicted she'd shoot at us."
"Rae maybe could've predicted it."
His mouth quirked. "Yeah, maybe so."
She let out a long sigh and rested her head on his shoulder. "I love you, Nicky. The good news is we aren't alone anymore. We have other people looking out for us, too."
He rested his cheek on her head. "And the bad news?"
"We have that many more people to look out for."
There was a long silence while he thought that over. Finally he said, "It's worth it. I know you're worth it, and I think they are too." He turned his head to kiss her hair. "But, Kai—at the end of the day it's you."
"What do you mean?"
He shrugged the shoulder not occupied with her head. "If I had to choose. For some reason. I'd choose you."
She frowned. "Don't say that. I don't—want to think about something like that."
"Neither do I, but I just thought I should warn you."
"If it's ever between you or me, choose yourself," she said.
He twisted to get a look at her face, and when he saw that she was serious, he gave an incredulous shake of his head. "Kai—that's not—"
"I mean it, Nick. You're the one who lives. Promise me."
His brows drew together. "I can't make that promise."
"Nick—"
"Could you?"
She made a face. Lifted her hands to sign something, then dropped them again. Finally, "No," she said. "I couldn't."
"Okay then." He cupped her face in his hand. "Don't be unfair, Kai. It's not like you."
She let out a shaky breath. "I just don't want to imagine this world without you in it."
"Then don't," he said with an easy smile. "Because I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere." He nudged her. "I've told you before you're stuck with me."
"Good," she said. The drugs were kicking in and she was starting to feel spinny. She booped his nose. "You're cute."
"You are too. Now why don't you lie down and try to sleep. I should go see how Tom and Rae are doing with Old Maid."
She nodded and scooted down in the bed. He fixed the pillows under her leg and gave her a soft, easy kiss.
"I love you," he said.
"You better."
"I do."
Her mouth curved in a sweet, drunken smile, and her heavy eyelids gave up the fight. He lingered a bit longer, until he was sure she slept, then he turned off the light and slipped out. They'd have to wake her up later to change her bandage, but for now, at least, her rest was peaceful.
She was only half-awake for the bandage change, and as soon as Rae left and Nick crawled into bed beside her she was asleep again. This time she slipped almost immediately into a dream. A clearing in the cornfield, and she knew she wasn't alone.
"Just come out," she said. "I'm too tired for stupid games."
Flagg stepped from between the stalks with a sheepish grin and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "You're right, Eden, you're right. We should be beyond games, you and I."
She sighed and pinched her nose between her finger and thumb. "What do you want? I already said no once."
"So you did. And I respect that. But I thought perhaps I could interest you in a new deal. A different one. And I thought I would remind you of the stakes."
Her head tilted. "You think I've forgotten?"
"Not exactly." He snapped his fingers and the corn was gone. They stood on a darkened stage under a single spotlight. "I think you don't entirely appreciate how high they are. It isn't fair to ask someone to make a deal without all the relevant information."
"Fairness." Her mouth moved in a skeptical smile. "That's a big concern of yours, I'm sure."
"Oh dear Eden, I'm always fair." He snapped his fingers again and her clothing changed to a black and red sequin-covered gown. It was cut nearly to her navel in the front and the skirt had a front slit almost to her crotch. Feathers flounced around the hem, and the sleeves hung long past her fingertips. She raised a hand to her head and found her hair done in some weird spiky corona around her head.
"What. The fuck."
"You don't like it?" He sighed. "Fine." Another snap and the ridiculous getup changed into a gown of blue organza. The top half was a tight corset covered in tulle, and the skirt flowed to her ankles. Her hair had reverted to a simple chignon. There was still a side slit to her hip, but at least she didn't look like Bob Mackie's worst nightmare. This was a dress she might actually wear in real life, but she'd probably pair it with her black Doc Martens eight-eyes, not these nightmarish heels.
"Great. I'm dressed. Now what?"
He smiled, and his teeth were blinding white in the bright spotlight. "I'm so glad you asked, my dear."
Behind them a series of lights flashed on, each one illuminating a single figure standing awkwardly with their legs spread and arms above their heads, like human x's. She recognized Rae, but the woman next to her was a stranger: older, with long brown hair liberally streaked with gray. Next to her was a Black guy probably Kai's age. He looked vaguely familiar, but not enough to place him. After that was a white guy, late thirties or so, with startlingly blue eyes and incredible cheekbones. She had to pause and look again, because it was almost unbelievable how handsome he was.
Her eyes moved on and then stopped again, because the next figure was Nick. He wasn't wearing his eyepatch, and his shirt was torn. "What—?" She surged forward, but Flagg lifted a hand and she froze. "What is this?" she said. "What's happening?"
"I'm giving you a glimpse, Eden." He gestured toward the line of people and his mouth moved in a concerned moue. "This is the future, my dear. This is where your old Black witch is leading you." He flicked his fingers and the shackles binding their wrists went tight. And pulled.
"You're—you're racking them?!" she cried.
"Sort of. More tearing them limb from limb, but po-tay-to, po-tah-to."
"Stop! Just stop it! You've made your point! None of this is real anyway. It's just an illusion. Another of your bullshit lies."
"My dear Eden, I may do a great many things, but lying isn't one of them. This is the path you're on. Keep walking it and you'll end up right here." He smiled and held up a hand to stop the torture. "Now you might be wondering why you aren't up there with the rest of them. It's just that I do hate to see you suffer. I'd much rather you simply join me as you're meant to do, but—I can tell you've made up your mind. I am capable of being generous, Eden."
"Generous?" She stifled a laugh that she was afraid would come out jagged and manic. "How, exactly, are you being generous?"
"Oh I haven't gotten to it yet. But my offer! It's very simple, and almost too good to be true. Are you ready?"
She glared at him.
"First, understand that my original offer is always on the table. You're welcome at any time to abandon the old witch and join me as a queen, with or without the deaf mute. That bit is up to you." He lifted a hand to forestall whatever she might have said. "But for one night only I'm prepared to offer something entirely different."
He smiled and leaned closer, so that she could smell his odd, burning scent. "Your freedom."
It wasn't at all what she'd been expecting. "I'm sorry?" she said.
He spread his hands. "Walk away, Eden. Again, with or without the deaf mute. Walk away from the old woman. Leave the corn. Turn around and go—wherever. Back to Louisiana. To a Caribbean island. Sail away to Hawaii. I don't care where you go, as long as it's not Nebraska. Do that, and we're through. I won't bother you ever again. No more dreams. No more little encounters like down in that cellar. You might never see another coyote as long as you live."
Her mouth fell open in astonishment before she shut it again and her lips twisted. "And how long would that be? A week? Two?"
"Oh ye of little faith! When I say I'd leave you alone, I mean it. No harm would come to you by my hand, or the hands—or paws—of one of my agents. You have my word."
She wrapped her arms around herself and cast a long look at the line of figures. She studied each face until her eyes landed on Nick's. He looked back at her like she was a stranger, his expression impassive and his good eye blank. She shuddered.
"They can't see you, dear," Flagg said from behind her. "But if you stay on the path you're on, when this comes to pass they'll be able to. You, standing next to me while I have them ripped apart."
"Why—would I be—here?" she said through lips gone numb. "Instead of there?"
He gave an easy shrug. "Because it suits me. Because even here, at the end, my hand will be extended to you."
She turned quickly to see him reach for her, his palm open and the black stone nestled in it like a poisoned berry. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and she saw a flash of red interrupt the brilliant blue. "I will always say no," she said.
"Maybe not. Maybe when you're faced with watching them die in agony you'll realize how much easier it is just to give in."
She sighed and kicked off the tall, uncomfortable shoes. "Are we done here? You've made your offer and you have your answer. I'd like to wake up now."
He grinned at her, his eyes twinkling once again. "Of course you would! But don't make a decision in haste. I'll give you the day to think on it. Tonight, same time, I'll be back. We can talk some more."
"Don't bother," she said. "You have my answer, and it's not going to change." She turned on her heel and walked away, but after only a few steps a crippling pain lanced through her thigh. She let out a strangled gasp and stumbled. Flagg was there to catch her, and for a moment the agony was so great she clung to him—but when she realized what was happening, she pushed away and stood straight.
"Generous, Eden," he murmured, low and intimate. "Remember that. I'd hate for you to have to see me turn cruel."
She glared up at him again. "My name. Is. Kai!" she snarled through gritted teeth. She pressed both hands to the center of his chest and shoved as hard as she could. He stumbled backwards, eyes wide with surprise, and by the time he regained his footing she was gone.
Kai lashed out in her sleep, shoved at the air above her and kicked so that covers and pillows flew. Nick's eyes snapped open and after a befuddled moment he reached for her, but she pushed him away so violently he almost rolled off the bed. He turned on the lamp and her pain-stricken eyes met his, but he wasn't sure she recognized him.
But this time when he held out his arms she fell into them, and he cradled her against his chest and stroked her hair. Kissed the top of her head and all over her face. "It's okay," he signed with one hand. "It's okay, you're safe now. He can't hurt you here. You're safe."
She shuddered and he could feel her tears on his skin. What the fuck?! They both had nightmares, but he'd never seen her so terrified from one. What had Flagg done to her?
When she finally stopped trembling he pulled away and cupped her face in his hands for a moment. "What happened?" he said. "What did he do?"
She shook her head. "It was—lies. Just lies. None of it was real."
"Tell me anyway. It's the best way to get it out."
"I—it—it wasn't like the others. Not at all." She started slowly, stumbling at first over the signs like her fingers were too stiff to form them, but as she went on the words flowed more easily, faster and more urgently, and when she got to the end, where she shoved Flagg away and made herself wake up, she slumped against the headboard and buried her face in her hands.
He sat absorbing everything she said with a look of quiet intensity on his face. Finally he tapped her arm so she would look at him. "How's your leg?"
"It hurts. I think I might have reopened some of the wounds with all my thrashing and kicking."
He nodded. "Strenuous activity."
She studied him. "Is that your only reaction?"
"It's the only thing I'm worried about," he said.
"Nick…he was going to tear you apart. You and Rae and three other people I'm guessing we're going to meet before all this's over. He was going to make me watch. He said it's our future!"
He retrieved a handkerchief from the nightstand and passed it to her. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose and he brushed her hair back from her damp face.
"Maybe it is."
"How are you so calm, Nicholas?!"
He smiled a little. "He told you he can't lie, right?"
She nodded and swiped the handkerchief across her nose.
"Okay, but…that doesn't mean he was showing you the whole truth, either." At her look he waved a hand. "Let's assume for argument's sake that that is our future. Us on some stage strapped to some torture device thingies, and you being forced to watch. How do you know that two minutes later the cavalry wouldn't come sweeping in to save us all? Or that the whole setup isn't the last, desperate gambit of a defeated man? He showed you that one moment, but he didn't show you anything around it. He didn't even show you where you were!"
"Like a magician's trick," she said, slowly. "He only lets you see what he wants you to see."
"Exactly. Or maybe it's just one of a million possible futures. Maybe there's three hundred different ones where we get old and fat and live happily ever after."
She managed a shaky smile. "Is there a version where we have a cat?"
"Yep. Some where we have a dog, because if people survived, surely a few dogs did, too." He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. "Or we can just start all over re-domesticating wolves. It worked the first time."
She rested her head on his chest and listened for a moment to the steady beat of his heart. Then, "Where are we living in this future?"
"I don't know. Depends. Nowhere too cold, I think, because that just seems impractical."
"California?" she said. "Long growing season. Earthquakes and wildfires are a problem, but after living through a world-ending plague I'm not as scared of that sorta thing."
"That might be an idea." He ran his knuckles down her arm. "On the other side, there's the Appalachians. Relatively mild weather. No earthquakes."
"Oh I like that idea." She wiggled as his fingertips trailed along her side. "Can we get some goats?"
"Sure, if we can find any. And as long as our half-domesticated wolf doesn't eat them." His fingers stole up under the edge of her tank top to stroke her skin.
"We could bring Tom with us. I'd bet he'd love to take care of some goats."
He shifted so that he could look at her face. "Are we talking about the future, or now?"
Her brow furrowed. "Nick…"
"If you want to go, we'll go. I told you I'm with you no matter what. We can head out right now for North Carolina or Virginia."
She looked away, and he waited while she struggled with it. Finally she shook her head. "No. We're staying. We're going to Nebraska and following—whatever path Mother Abagail has set for us."
She cut her eyes up to meet his. "We might be chess pieces, but we have the choice. We can take ourselves off the board or switch sides or—I don't know. Move like a bishop while looking like a knight. He showed me that. I'm pretty sure that wasn't his goal, but, well. Evil destroys itself. And by showing me I have a choice—that we all have a choice—he's made me even more confident that following Mother Abagail is the right call."
His mouth quirked ruefully. "Maybe I'll have to borrow some of your faith."
"It's not about faith, babe. It's about…have you seen From Dusk Till Dawn?"
"It's about strippers who are really vampires?"
She swatted him. "Silly. I'm talking about that part where George Clooney says to Harvey Keitel, If there's a Hell, and those sons of bitches are from it, then there's gotta be a Heaven, Jacob. There's gotta be. I'm probably misquoting a little, but…look, Flagg is bad news. Whether he's the devil or some abstract idea given human form, we know he's nothing we want to be a part of."
"So that leaves Mother Abagail."
"Yes, but it's not just that. What did you think the first time you met her?"
"I thought…" His face scrunched. "She felt…like home. Safe and warm and good."
"I thought the same."
He threw his arm out in a wild, frustrated shrug. "I don't think either of us is debating Mother Abagail's rightness versus Flagg's wrongness. That isn't the question, or the struggle I'm having. I want to know why, if Mother Abagail and her god are so good and so powerful, He can't just deal with this himself?! Why are we being dragged into it? Why do we have to have these nightmares? Why do you have to see people you care about tortured? Why was he stalking us down in that cellar? If we're His chosen ones, then why isn't He protecting us?"
"Because we can always choose," she said.
"So if one day a coyote starts chasing me, if I turn around and declare myself for Flagg it'll stop and I'll be safe?" He made a face. "That doesn't exactly say much about Mother Abagail's god!"
"Is that what you want, then?" she said. "To choose him? Because then we'd be safe?"
"Of course not! I know we wouldn't. We might not get eaten by a coyote, but there are a lot worse ways to go. I guess." He let out an exhausted breath and his shoulders slumped. "I just hate—him terrorizing you. When you woke me up like that I thought—my heart stopped. There's part of me that says yeah, fuck it, let's just go! And if I thought it really actually meant we could have some peace, I might say it anyway."
"But…?" she prompted.
"But I know it's just more of his bullshit. And—even if somehow it weren't—" He broke off with a grimace. "Sadly, that's just not the type of people we are."
"Woe are we," she said. "I'm sorry I scared you. And nearly shoved you off the bed."
"It's okay," he said. "You caught me by surprise, that's all. Pretty sure I could take you in a fair fight."
"Oh could you now?!" she said with a surprised laugh.
"I don't know. Maybe not." His lips curved in a mischievous grin. "But I'd sure have fun trying. How about a wrestling match once your leg's feeling better?"
"Any excuse to get your hands on me, Andros."
"Didn't know I needed an excuse," he said and skimmed his palm down her leg. He frowned. "I should take a look at your thigh, though. You were really flailing."
"It'll keep till in the morning."
"Rae will think we've been misbehaving. She might banish me to the couch."
She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I'll vouch for you, love. Don't worry."
"My hero," he said with a grin that was there and then gone, like a spark, before his expression turned pensive again. "I know saying no to him is right, no matter what he's offering. I know it's—the only choice. Not because it is the only choice, but because it's the only choice worth making."
"What would Tom say if we told him we were choosing differently?"
"Fuck." He scrubbed a hand through his hair, twisted and tugged. "I can't stand the idea of hurting him like that."
"Me neither. However we might feel about it, he does have faith, and, honestly? What you said the other night about him being good is true, and I think, maybe…" She let the thought hand in the air and bit her lip.
"What?" he said. "You think what?"
She sighed. "I think maybe Tom is…sort of an anchor. For us. When we're doubting or just…fucking tired."
"You're my anchor," he said.
Her fingers fluttered to the necklace he'd given her and she felt herself blush. "What happens when I'm the one drifting?"
He smiled, slow and sweet. "Then I pull you back. But…you're not wrong. About Tom. He saved us from that tornado, and he was the one to notice Julie with her gun."
"And bringing the chickens was a really good idea."
He poked her in the side. "Told you."
"Yes, you did. Now come here and kiss me and let's go back to sleep. I'm tired, my leg hurts, and it's way past my bedtime."
"Sleepy pretty girl," he said and leaned in for a kiss. "If you're feeling tense, I'm sure I could figure out a way to help you relieve some tension."
"Please don't tease me, Nicky," she said. "Apparently horrific nightmares have the unintended side effect of making me want to jump your bones to prove that we're both still alive and kicking."
"You certainly were kicking," he said with a smirk. He pressed his lips to her neck and skimmed down to the curve of her shoulder. "Go to sleep, beautiful. That leg's had enough stress tonight."
"So's my brain," she said. She scooted down in the bed and turned on her side to face him. He arranged pillows between her legs to keep her thigh propped, then settled down next to her. The fell asleep with their fingers tangled together and their breath mingling, and neither of them dreamt the rest of the night.
Notes:
I've gone with the 2020 casting for the most part, as you can see in the dream sequence - except for Glen, who I've gender swapped. Imagine her as Lilly Tomlin in Grace and Frankie.
Chapter 20: Mother Abagail
Summary:
The group finally reaches Hemingford Home and Mother Abagail.
Notes:
So sorry I forgot to post this yesterday! It just slipped my mind.
This chapter is a little bit shorter than they have been lately, and that's partially because I'm trying to drag things out a little. I only have like 1 more full chapter complete on this, and I REALLY don't want to leave y'all hanging. Some words of encouragement would help a lot. :)
Enjoy!
Chapter Text
i have burnt down my past
i'm lost, i'm built to last
i'm built to break, but that's okay
Bob Schneider, "Honeypot"
July 26
It was forty-eight hours before Rae announced Kai fit to travel. Her flailing from the nightmare had done some damage, and she'd reluctantly told Rae about the dream—and she'd agreed with Nick, though what she'd actually said was "Randall Flagg don't know his shit from Shinola, and I'll be damned if he's rippin' my ass to pieces."
That had made her laugh, and took a weight off her shoulders even Nick's reassurances hadn't.
Flagg had said he would give her twenty-four hours to think it over, but she didn't dream of him the next night. Maybe he'd gotten the message the first time. Either way, she was glad he was out of her head for now, and with the help of the pain medication she slept easier than she had in a month.
They'd spent the day preparing to leave in the morning. Nick and Rae had done several supply runs, while Tom and Kai packed their car and Rae's truck. They planned for Tom and Nick to help Rae close down the solar panels again in the morning, but in the meantime they had one more night of hot water and electricity.
Kai made several loaves of bread and some cookies and for dinner Nick made stir fry from a bunch of vegetables he'd found raiding people's gardens that afternoon. They ate and played Old Maid until Kai couldn't keep her eyes open.
She made it back to the bedroom under her own power, and a few minutes later the door opened. Nick shut it behind him and motioned toward the bathroom.
"One last shower?"
"That would be lovely."
"Save hot water and take it together?" he said with a grin.
She pretended to think it over. "Okay, but you have to behave. Shower sex is dangerous with two good working legs. I don't want to attempt it with one and a half."
"I am the picture of good behavior. I promise."
He actually kept his promise, though a small part of her wished he wouldn't. His gaze felt hot on her skin and she shivered every time she looked up into his face. He held her steady while she washed her hair. Kissed her neck as they stood under the warm spray with his arms around her. She leaned back against him while he propped against the wall and tilted her head to rest on his shoulder.
They stood there maybe longer than they should have, long enough to get pruny and for her leg to start to ache, but it was a rare quiet moment in what they knew was going to become an increasingly hectic new life.
He helped her out and they dried each other off, then he wandered away while she washed her face, brushed her teeth, and went nuts with body lotion. He reappeared as she was re-bandaging her leg, in his standard sleep uniform of boxer briefs, and pressed his face into the curve of her neck and took a long breath.
"Smells good," he signed.
She smiled at his reflection in the mirror. "Rae makes it. Or—made it. I'm hoping she'll teach me when we get…wherever we're going. That and the soap."
"That smells good, too."
"And practical." She frowned. "I should learn to sew for real."
"It's okay." He took her hand and kissed the knuckles. "I can sew."
She blinked at him. "You never told me that."
He flashed a grin. "I like to be mysterious. Being able to repair your clothes is an important skill when you don't have steady income. Plus it was one of the things they taught us in the children's home—though only the girls, which I thought was bullshit. No one really cared what I did, so I sat in."
She turned to face him and pressed a kiss to his dimples. "He's cute, he sews, he makes me come, he rejects traditional gender roles—what a dreamboat."
He smirked and ran his hands through her wet hair. "I'm a Renaissance man, baby."
She kissed his nose. His cheek under his bad eye. "Take me to bed, Renaissance man, and let's see if we can figure out how to have some fun without making it strenuous."
He took one of her hands in his and walked backwards out the bathroom door and into the bedroom. "I have an excellent imagination, and it's been on my mind the past few days. I have some ideas."
"Oh has it?" she said with a smirk. She sat on the edge of the bed and scooted backwards until she leaned against the headboard.
He crawled in next to her and kissed her bare shoulder. "Lots."
She took his face in her hands and flicked her tongue against his lips until they parted and he tugged her close for a long, heated kiss. "Show me," she said.
His eyes roamed up and down her body for a moment. "You're naked. A lot of them start out that way. But…" He jumped up and she stared after him, perplexed.
He came around to her side of the bed and waved her over. "Scoot."
"What?"
He dropped a quick kiss on her mouth. "Scoot over. I need to be on this side."
"But that's the bad side."
"Kai, please."
"Okay, scooting." She moved over to the other side and gave him a look. "Better?"
He knelt next to her. Carded a hand through her hair and pulled her to him for more kisses. He ran a hand down her body, a languid stroke, and she arched into it. "Lie down. On your side."
Finally she caught on to what he had in mind. He saw the realization dawn and nodded, then motioned for her to do as he said. She slid down in bed and turned onto her side, her back to him. The mattress dipped as he stretched out behind her and pressed close.
"Weren't you wearing shorts a minute ago?"
"Must've lost them somewhere." He brushed her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck. Along the top of her shoulder. Behind her ear. He blew a warm stream of air across her cheek and she shivered.
She wiggled until her ass was pressed firmly against him. He shifted with a brief exhale and she could feel him getting hard. He slid his hand from her hip up to cup one of her breasts. His teeth nipped softly at her neck. He sucked, hard, then soothed the tender skin with his tongue. She let out a breath and twisted her arm around to bury her fingers in his hair.
He moved against her and she rocked into him. It was like a switch had flipped inside of her and she'd gone from zero to sixty in two seconds. She tugged at his hair and turned her head to kiss him. His tongue plunged in and out of her mouth and he dragged his hand from her nipples down, over her belly, to the aching heat between her thighs.
"Nicky!" she breathed against his lips. He smirked and ran two fingers up and down her slit. The pain in her thigh was distant, and she just wanted more of him, more of his hands and lips and tongue. The thick, hard length of him against her ass and the heat of his breath across her skin.
His hand moved from between her legs and she whimpered. He kissed the curve of her ear and groped behind him for the bottle of lotion on the nightstand. He set it down in front of her and pumped a bit into his hand, then stroked up and down his cock. Got some more, and rubbed it into the cleft of her ass. She squirmed in anticipation as he gripped her hip. Squeezed, hard, and slid his cock slowly between her cheeks. He kneaded her hip and adjusted the angle until he was nestled just right, and with every movement his cock slid over her hole and back to almost dip inside her cunt.
She gave a soft moan and grabbed his hand to yank it back down between her thighs. She felt his smirk against her neck and then his fingers were inside her and her mind blanked. Her short nails dug into his wrist and she rocked and squirmed and muffled another moan in the pillow.
He was as wound up as she was, but he tried to hold back. He didn't want to hurt her, and the bright bandage on her thigh was like a warning beacon.
"I'm fine," she signed, quick and desperate. "I'm fine, please, need you!"
His breath left in a ragged exhale and he slid his other arm under her to wrap around her waist and hold her tight against him. He moved his hips in uneven little jerks and his fingers curled and scissored inside her. Ground his palm against her clit and it felt so good, so fucking good, she wanted it to last forever.
She twisted to kiss him again and their mouths met feverishly, blindly, a molten clash of lips and tongues and teeth and gasping breath. "I love you," she murmured. "Love you so much!"
His eyes flicked down to her mouth and his grin lit up his whole face. He pressed his hand against her middle, his fingers forming the I love you sign, and stroked her g-spot the way he knew drove her crazy.
"Come for me, pretty girl," he signed. "Let me feel you."
He moved his palm in a circle and his fingers in a beckoning come here gesture and she knew she couldn't hold on any longer. She turned her face into the pillow and her hips bucked as the delicious heat overwhelmed her. He kept kissing up and down her neck and she reached back to grab his hip so that he moved with her as she shuddered.
He buried his face in the curve of her shoulder and she grabbed a handful of his hair and gave it a sharp yank. A breath exploded out of him and she felt the hot rush of his come against her skin. He nuzzled behind her ear and she turned her head for fervent kisses. He sucked her full lower lip and nipped it before letting his forehead fall to rest against hers.
He stroked her stomach with a gentle palm and squeezed her hip with fingers slick from her cunt. She caressed his cheek. Combed her fingers through his hair and then his beard. He dropped a quick kiss to her temple and held up a finger for her to wait.
While he was gone she moved back to her side of the bed and stretched out on her back. Her thigh hurt a bit, but not too badly. She stretched her leg up in the air and flexed her toes.
He appeared next to her and handed her a warm washcloth. "How's the leg?" he signed as he passed it to her.
"Not bad. Sore, but doesn't seem to be any worse." She winced a little as she shifted to clean the come off her thighs. She gave him a wry look, and his brows lifted in an apologetic shrug.
He ran a hand through her hair as he leaned down to kiss her, then took the cloth back to the bathroom. She heard the water running, and a few moments later he crawled into bed next to her.
"Hi," she said.
"Hey," he replied with a soft smile.
She ran her fingers over his dimples and the crinkles at the corner of his good eye. "You're beautiful," she said.
He looked startled and his lips twitched. "You're…drunk, maybe."
"No. Well…maybe a little. I came really hard."
"I noticed," he said, smirking.
"But it doesn't change how beautiful you are."
Blushing, he dropped her eyes fiddled with the sheet. "You're very sweet," he finally said. "And beautiful. And sexy."
She grinned and lifted his chin to kiss him. "And so creative. Did I mention that?"
He caught her hand in his and kissed the palm. "I can't wait till you're healed enough I can go down on you," he said. He ran a fingertip down her arm. "I miss how you taste, baby girl."
"Hmmm." She tilted her head and her nose scrunched as she thought it over. "Maybe if you were kneeling in front of me and I had my legs over your shoulders?"
"Yeah?" He kissed her jaw. "You think so?"
"We could try it. Not tonight!" she said with a giggle. "I think it's had enough of a workout for tonight. But if I'm not too sore after being on the road all day tomorrow, maybe we could sneak off somewhere…offer to do a supply run…" She lifted a brow and traced a line down his nose with her finger.
A grin slowly unfurled across his face. "Excellent idea, Ms. d'Arnaud. Very clever."
"Thank you, my love."
He slid a hand into her hair and they kissed for a long time. She pulled away to muffle a yawn, and when she came back she saw he was laughing at her.
"What?!" she said.
"Nothing. Guess I wore you out, huh?"
"You, being shot in the leg, working all day…take your pick."
"Poor baby." He scooted down in the bed and held his arms out.
She snuggled against him, her head on his shoulder, and was asleep before he even turned the light off.
July 27-29, OK - NE
The next several days on the road were tough with Kai's injury, but she gritted her teeth and got on with things. They picked up people as they went, including a vet who looked at her leg and and proclaimed it on the way to recovery. Rae was unimpressed, since she'd been saying the same thing for the past week.
There was a little girl with him, her arm broken in a fall from a hay loft, and she and Tom became fast friends. He would carry her on his back or perched on his shoulders, or sometimes swing her around in circles making airplane noises.
It was about midday on July 29th when their little caravan pulled into a familiar dooryard. The apple tree had lost its blossoms, and small green fruit had replaced them, but the tire swing hung in the same place.
Bonnie and Tom gave matching cries of delight and ran for it while the others stretched stiff muscles and shared suddenly apprehensive glances. They were here. Finally. After nearly two months of dreams and weeks of travel and an entire goddamn apocalypse, they were standing in front of Mother Abagail's modest house with the corn all around and the sun hot on their faces.
"I'll go," Nick signed, with Kai translating.
"Do you want me to go with you?" she said.
His mouth curved and he nodded, so together (Kai still limping a little) they crossed the dusty yard and climbed the steps onto the low porch. The screen door opened before Nick could knock, and a tiny old Black woman stepped outside.
It was her. The old lady from their dreams.
"Mother Abagail?" Kai said. "My name is—"
"I know who you are, little girl," she said, her voice low and rusty, but kind. "I know who all of you are. And you're all welcome here!"
She held a hand out to Nick. "Nick Andros. So good to see you." She smiled at Kai. "And you brought Kai. I'm glad you're here, darlin'. I'm glad you're all here! Please, make yourselves at home! Food'll be ready soon."
As the others came to greet her, she waved Nick and Kai toward the door. "Y'all go on inside and wait for me. I'll be along in a minute."
Nick cast Kai a puzzled look, but she shrugged, just as clueless as he was. They stepped into the warm little kitchen and Kai instantly felt more relaxed. There was the smell of biscuits baking and chicken frying and a thousand other things she associated with long afternoons spent with her Grandmére.
"I like it here," she said.
Nick nodded, a smile toying with his mouth. "Me too. It feels…homey." His brow crinkled. "Why us?"
"I don't know. Maybe she wants to look at my leg? Or your eye? Who knows."
There was a pitcher of lemonade on the table, and Nick poured them a couple of glasses and they sat down to wait. It was cool from being in the icebox (an actual old-fashioned ice box) and tasted delicious after the long, dusty drive with the window busted out in the SUV.
The screen door slammed and Mother Abagail hobbled in. They started to stand, but she waved them back down. "Don't move on my account. I'm comin' over there to join you." Nick jumped up anyway and pulled a chair out for her, and she sank into it with a grateful sigh.
"Whew. All that jawin' got me wore out. Nick, be a darlin' and pour me a glass of that lemonade."
He did as she asked, and she took a long pull before smacking her lips in satisfaction and setting the glass aside. "Now. You two must be wonderin' why I singled you out."
"We were curious," Kai said with a quick glance at Nick.
"Everybody out there been through this—Captain Trips. Li'l Bonnie lost her parents. Broke her arm. Rae lost her children. We've all lost, thanks to this flu."
Nick shifted in his chair. "I—feel like I've lost less than most people. I barely knew Sheriff and Jane Baker, or Doc Soames. Besides them, there's hardly anyone else in the pre-flu world…" He trailed off with a shrug and looked embarrassed.
Mother Abagail patted his hand with hers. "It ain't just about the people we've lost, Nick. You two—you've been through more than most. We all got stories to tell, but it seems the Lord's been testin' the two of you sorely." She tapped below her eye and pointed at Nick, then the center of her chest and gestured toward Kai.
"My…heart?" she said, face scrunching. "I—don't think I've lost any more in that area than any of the others."
"No," she said, "it ain't what you lost, l'il girl. It's what you've gained. What you both have. That's a type of test, too. Can you hold on even when things ain't so good?"
"You mean when I spend three days delirious with fever because I accidentally shot myself?" Nick said.
"Or when I tell him the truth about what happened to my father?" Kai said with a nod toward Nick.
"That," Mother Abagail said with a sanguine nod, "and when the Dark Man comes along to tempt you. When you've got more to lose, it's harder than ever to tell him no."
Nick frowned and gave a slow shake of his head. "No, ma'am. It's easier. Because without Kai—or with her, the way he would have her—all of this would just be…" He lifted a hand. "A game of charades. And I don't mean that because she translates for me."
"I know what you meant," Mother Abagail said. She gave them each keen, probing looks through sharp brown eyes. "I have a way of knowin' things, and in that way I've been told that you two are to be leaders in this new community we're gonna build. You, and others. I haven't met none of them yet, but they're on their way here right now."
She drew in a deep breath and let it out with a little shudder, and suddenly she looked her one-hundred-and-eight years. "Our journey's not done yet, children. We gotta go west. To Colorado." She said it Col-o-RAY-doe. "I don't want to leave my home. I was born here, and I always planned to die here, but the Lord has other plans for me, and I have always served His will."
Nick and Kai shared a look across the table. "Mother Abagail…" He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Ma'am. I don't believe in God."
She stared at him a moment before her eyes bounced to Kai and back again. Abruptly she threw back her head and laughed louder and stronger than either of them would have thought possible. She didn't seem at all frail now. "Oh, bless you, child, bless you! That don't matter none!" She sobered and poked Nick in the center of his chest. "He believes in you."
Kai had been searching for him for the last twenty minutes or so, and she finally found him down the hill at a little creek. This late in the summer it was nearly dried up, and he sat on the bank throwing twigs and pebbles down into the ditch in a half-hearted way.
She stopped next to him, and he looked up at her with a brief wave. She stood for a while, then dropped down to sit beside him and joined in on the rock toss. Neither of them said anything for a long time. The sun was just starting to sink in the west and the shadows were getting long. The late afternoon was hot and close, and Kai waved gnats away from her sweaty face.
"What the fuck does that even mean?" he finally signed.
"I don't know."
"God believes in me." He shoved a hand through his hair. "Why should I care?! If I don't believe in God, then who—what—there's not even any context for that statement! It's completely meaningless!"
"That's true."
"We came all the way to Nebraska and now we've got to keep going, to Boulder, Colorado. What's in Boulder? Who knows, that's just where we're going!"
She didn't reply, just studied his profile: scrunched forehead, tense mouth, good eye narrowed against the sun.
"Closer to Vegas," she finally said.
He let out a huff. "Great, so he can get to us faster."
"Or we can get to him."
His chin dropped to his chest and he shook his head. "It just doesn't make any sense."
She shifted a bit so that she faced him. "You believe in her, don't you?"
He hesitated, briefly. Then, "Yeah. Yes. I do. Even more now that I've met her."
"Okay. Then leave God out of it. She wants us to go to Boulder, so we go to Boulder. She wants us to lead these people, so we do it. She believes in us. That's what should matter."
He peered at her. "I never thought you would be so…sure."
She lifted both hands in a shrug and her mouth curved a little. "Nick, look, what she said…I don't know if I believe in God, either, but I believe…in that. That God believes in you. In your goodness and your strength and your perseverance. I haven't been in any shape to lead anyone since Pratt. It's been you who's gotten these people here, even when they were scared and confused. You have something about you that people trust, and that people—believe in."
"Kai…" He sighed and scrubbed his palms over his face. "What if I let them all down?"
"I don't think you will. But, if you get unsure, just remember that I'm there. I've always got your back."
He reached for her hand and toyed with her fingers a moment before bringing it to his lips for a kiss. "She said both of us. Not just me."
"I know. Now that my leg's down to a manageable ache I think I'll start feeling more like myself again." Her brow furrowed and she cast a look out over the dry stream bed and the field beyond. "I wonder who these other people are, the ones she said would lead with us."
"Probably the ones from your dream."
"Yeah," she said. "Probably. Should we tell them about that?"
His head tilted back and forth as he considered. "We probably shouldn't lead with it, but maybe after we've all gotten to know each other a bit."
She threw a pebble at him, but he batted it down. "Hey!"
"Smartass," she said with a grin.
He shrugged, unrepentant. "Guilty as charged."
"We should get back," she said. "The others will be looking for us. They'll think we're off necking."
He grinned. "Necking? What does necking entail, exactly?"
"I don't know, exactly, but I get the impression it has something to do with kissing."
"I like kissing."
"I do too, but I'm pretty sure if I kiss you now it'll lead to mischief, and we don't have time for that."
He made a face and kissed her anyway. "A tiny bit of mischief."
She carded her fingers through his hair. "Maybe…a little bit."
He stretched out in the grass and drew her down with him. "Ten minutes. I'll set my alarm."
"Uh huh," she breathed against his mouth as she nodded. He kissed her again, long and slow, then wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head. She snuggled in against him and listened to the steady sound of his heart.
"Too hot to stay like this long," she said.
He ran a hand down to her hip and squeezed. "A little longer, okay?"
She tilted her back to kiss his jaw. "A little longer."
Chapter 21: New in Town
Summary:
The group arrives in Boulder, and new additions join the fray.
Notes:
Friends, I have NO idea what happened here, but I was reading through the fic tonight and went from chapter 20 to 21 and thought "wow, that's abrupt. I could've sworn I wrote something between that..." And sure enough! Somehow I left out an entire chapter! Literally just sitting there! It's because I misnumbered them in the document. Sigh. Anyway! Here it is, long-lost chapter 21. For real.
Hey, the band's all together now! Don't forget, I've gender-swapped Glen. Picture her like Lily Tomlin in Grace and Frankie, except like 20 years younger. (because Frankie is 80-something, and Glen's only supposed to be 57, but we'll bump the age a few years because why not) (also, 94 miniseries Glen was only supposed to be 57?! No wonder I thought Greg Kinnear was too young...)
Chapter Text
come gather 'round people
wherever you roam
and admit that the waters
around you have grown
and accept it that soon
you'll be drenched to the bone
if your time to you is worth savin'
then you better start swimmin'
or you'll sink like a stone
for the times they are a-changin'
Bob Dylan, "The Times They Are A-Changin'"
July 30-Aug 1, Hemingford Home, NE - Boulder, CO
They spent the next full day at Mother Abagail's preparing for the journey west. Rae had the idea of getting CB radios so they could communicate between vehicles, and she, Nick, and Tom went looking for some. While they were gone another small group pulled into the yard, honking and waving and thrilled to have arrived at last. They were from Texas, they said, and like everyone else they'd dreamt of Mother Abagail and…the other guy.
None of them reported dreams quite like Kai's, but also no one wanted to talk about the nightmares in much detail. Even from the safety of Mother Abagail's dooryard.
Studying the map showed that in the old days it would've only been about an eight hour drive to Boulder, but that was using major interstates. It would take longer on backroads, they were bound to hit traffic snarls along the way, and they probably wouldn't make great time with the need for frequent stops. Nick had the most experience traveling this part of the country, but even he wasn't as familiar with all the backroads and small towns the map didn't show. They all missed Google.
Nick made a sign for the yard like he'd done back at Doc Soames' cabin. He listed all their names, their (tentative) route to Boulder, and the CB channel they'd be on. The morning of their departure he helped Mother Abagail into their SUV (Rae had replaced the glass in the driver's side window), and she paused half in and half out to take a long look around.
"I was born here," she said to him. "I grew up on this land. My people are all buried here, including my husband, Lord rest him. Colorado's so far. So far." The lines on her face seemed more deeply drawn than when they'd first met, and her eyes were clouded with memories.
His brow creased with compassion and he gave her thin arm a gentle squeeze. She cast him a distracted smile and patted his cheek. "You're a good boy, Nick. Thank you."
He wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve that, but he nodded and helped her the rest of the way into the car. He got her seatbelt fastened and made sure she was comfortable, then climbed in the passenger seat. Kai would drive the first bit, then they'd switch off.
Their little caravan—Rae's truck with Bonnie and Tom in the cab, Mother Abagail's rocker proudly in the back like a scene from The Beverly Hillbillies; Brad-the-vet's SUV; the third group's pickup; and Nick and Kai bringing up the rear—pulled away from the comfort and safety of the farm and headed west.
Their progress ended up being slower than they were expecting, partly due to a complete and total roadblock in the mountains. Cars were piled up for a mile, and when Brad and Keisha (one of the women from the other group) got back from scouting it, they reported the tunnel through the mountain was impassable. Their only choice was to backtrack and find another way.
That was on July 31st. They stopped in a town at the foot of the mountains to study their maps, and by late afternoon they were on the road again.
They stopped for the day just before dark. No one wanted to be on these roads once night fell. They could hear the howl of wolves and yip of coyotes in the distance, and it was safer to be encamped with a circle of tents and a fire going by the time the stars came out.
That night Brad and Rae took down a deer (they were everywhere these days) and returned to camp with venison steaks ready to go on the fire. They told Tom and Bonnie they found them in a house that had solar panels, so their fridge still worked, because otherwise they'd get too upset to eat. They all swapped stories around the campfire and roasted marshmallows they'd found on a recent supply run and Mother Abagail played a little on the guitar until she got too tired.
Rae and Nick made her bed in the back of Rae's truck, with a tarp raised over it, and she did well enough despite the rough conditions.
"She's a tough old bird," Nick remarked when he got back to their tent that night.
"You don't live to be a hundred-and-eight being weak," Kai said.
"No shit." He kicked off his boots, wiggled out of his trousers, and shrugged off his shirt before he crawled into the sleeping bag with her. "How's your leg?"
"A little sore, but not bad. I'll be happy when we get there."
"Tomorrow, looks like." He turned the lantern down to its lowest setting and stretched out on his back. "Can't wait for a shower."
She snuggled up next to him with her head on his shoulder. "Me neither. Have you ever been to Boulder?"
"Passed through, never stuck around. It's pretty."
"Cold winters."
He took off the eyepatch and slid it under his pillow. "True. But we won't have to worry about that for a while." He flashed her a half-smile. "Don't worry, Southern girl. I'll keep you plenty warm."
"Ha. I'm sure you will." She turned toward him and wrapped an arm around him. Squeezed. Tilted her head to plant a kiss on his shoulder before settling in again. He traced his fingertips up and down her arm and through her hair.
"Are you worried?" he said after a while.
"About Boulder?" She frowned and shifted on the hard ground. "A little. Just because—it's a decent size city. A lot of people. A lot of—cleanup." Her nose crinkled. "It's gonna be a mess, and we're so few."
He toyed with the ends of her hair. "For now," he said. "Rae's been getting calls on her CB ever since we left Nebraska. That group that's right behind us—Stu's group—they're big. Way bigger than ours. Then there's another right behind them that's even bigger."
She nodded. "And there's always a chance we'll pick up a few more tomorrow. Stu said they started dreaming about Boulder the same night we left Hemingford Home."
"Good to know the CB isn't the only radio that's working," he said with a wry tilt to his brows.
She hid a yawn behind her hand. "We should sleep. Rae said something about dawn tomorrow."
He made a face. "You early risers. Masochists, all of you."
She grinned and kissed his nose. "I love you too, pretty boy." She reached across him and turned the lantern off. He groped for her in the dark and kissed her until they reluctantly pulled apart. They both wanted more, but a tent allows for very little privacy.
He tapped two fingers against the center of her chest, over her heart, and kissed her forehead. She did the same to him, and they curled up to sleep in the cozy nest of their sleeping bag.
Aug. 1
They were up at first light, and Rae already had coffee going on the fire. Breakfast was quick, eggs and leftover venison and Pop Tarts. They broke camp and loaded up and were on the road within two hours.
Barring any major snafus like the tunnel yesterday, they would be in Boulder before dark. Stu's group was only a few hours behind them now (Rae warned them about the tunnel, and they made up a lot of time by following the new route directly), and he vowed to get them through if he could.
They pushed hard, stopping less, and the roads were mostly clear. They were all counting down over the radio every time they saw a sign with the miles to Boulder. At 5 a cheer went up. When they reached the Welcome to Boulder sign, everyone honked their horns and waved out the windows like it was a parade.
They'd already decided to settle near the university. There would be stores there, higher-end homes (which might mean solar panels), and the school itself would have tons of resources and common areas where they could gather once more people started to arrive. Trips had hit during summer break, so there wouldn't be nearly as many students as during the year, and hopefully the ones who were there for summer school had had a chance to get the hell out before things got too bad.
Their first priority was finding Mother Abagail a house. They didn't want her to have to sleep in the back of Rae's truck another night. The streets surrounding the school were shaded with mature trees, and every house boasted a beautiful green lawn. The power was out, of course, and the whole place smelled like…well, death. But not as badly as even some small towns they'd been through on their way across the country.
"Dry climate?" Nick said. "Preserving rather than…" He trailed off with a grimace.
"Possibly," Kai said.
"Got one up here with solar," Rae said through the radio. "Small, one story. Might be good."
"Let's take a look," Mother Abagail said from the backseat. "I'm ready to get settled in! My joints hate all this travelin'."
"Yes, ma'am," Kai said. She sped up a little, and in another few blocks caught sight of Rae's truck. Tom waved them down, and she stopped the car and cut the engine.
"Rae and Brad went inside," Tom said. "They gotta check it out. Mother Abagail, if you move here can we put a tire swing in the yard like at your old house?"
She gave a dry chuckle. "If there's a tree for it then we sure can, Tommy."
He grinned and let out a little whoop. "Bonnie, she said yes! M-O-O-N, that spells tire swing!"
The front door opened and Rae stepped out on to the porch, Brad close behind her. She wore a big smile and gestured for them to join her.
Kai got out stiffly while Nick ran around to help Mother Abagail. The three of them, followed by Tom and Bonnie, made their way up the path and up the low steps to the porch.
"I think this is it, Mother," Rae said. "It's empty, clean, and even has safety bars in the bathroom. I'm gonna head up to the roof the check the panels while y'all look around inside."
"Never had a house so grand," she said as Nick helped her through the door. It was about twelve hundred square feet, two bedrooms, one bathroom, but the finishes were all topnotch and looked almost brand new.
"They must've just remodeled," Kai said. "Oh but look! They left the original bathroom tile!" It was pink with green trim, perfect for the era the house had been built.
"That's fine, that's fine. Never had no indoor toilet before, but I'll get used to it. Take me to the kitchen, Nick. Gotta see the icebox and the stove."
He and Kai shared an amused glance over her head, mostly because Kai would've said the exact same thing. They made their way down the short hall and around the corner into the kitchen. It, too, was recently redone, with marble countertops, custom cabinets (or so they looked), and high-end appliances. Kai let out a low whistle.
"Well. You'll be in high cotton."
"Won't I jus'," Mother Abagail said. "I don't even know what half these things do! What is this thing!?"
"An espresso maker," Kai said. "Fancy coffee."
She snorted. "Don't that beat all." Her expression turned thoughtful. "I do like coffee, though. I'm sure one of you young people can teach me how to use it.”
There was an ear-splitting beep from the hallway, and Mother Abagail jumped so hard she would've fallen without Nick there to catch her. "What happened?" he said to Kai.
"I think Rae got the power on. The smoke detector beeped. It must be hard-wired."
His brows lifted and he pointed toward the stove. The digital clock there blinked 12:00 over and over. A few moments later there was a whoosh and they felt a rush of cool air from the wall vents. Kai raised her head and closed her eyes to bask in it, while Mother Abagail just looked vexed.
"I don't need that! I can just open a window!"
Nick patted her hand and led her to the recliner in the living room. She sat with a long, satisfied sigh.
Brad stuck his head in the door. "You want your rocker in here or on the porch, Mother?"
"The porch, darlin'. That's where a good rockin' chair goes."
He nodded and disappeared again. A few minutes later Rae appeared to tell them the solar panels were intact and obviously working.
"What do you think?" Kai said. "Is this the one?"
Mother Abagail rested both hands on her cane and looked around, her eyes keen and bright. After several long moments she gave a decisive nod. "It'll do jus' fine. Now y'all go on, find your own places. I'll be right here when you get back."
Rae frowned. "We can't just leave you here, Mother."
She snorted. "I been livin' alone the past thirty years, li'l girl. Don't you worry about me."
She cast Kai and Nick a frustrated look, but they just shrugged. Nick, for one, hated when people assumed he was incapable just because he couldn't hear, and he imagined Mother Abagail felt the same way about being coddled for her age. She hadn't needed coddling on the road; why would she need it here, in a shiny new house with electricity?
"All right," she said, conceding defeat. "Tom can bring you some water and something to nibble on, and I'll leave one of the radios if you need anything."
She nodded and banged her cane against the floor. "Go on, then. Get! Stu and them'll be here soon, and that's when the real work starts."
It wasn't quite dark when Rae knocked on the front door. Kai called for her to come in, and she pushed open the door with her hip because her arms were loaded with Little Debbies. "Hi!" she said. "Normally I would bake something, but I'm not settled in yet, so I did the next best thing. Happy housewarming!"
"Aw, thanks. You didn't have to bring anything."
"I had to stop by anyway, and it felt rude to come empty-handed. Is Nick around?"
"He's out back with Tom. They're trying to decide if the girls will live here with us, or with him."
Kai and Nick's house, a dark blue Craftsman with a deep front porch and a huge backyard, was about a five minute walk from Mother Abagail. Tom had chosen a place between the two. Their place had an expansive outdoor kitchen with a fridge, sink, huge grill, and (to Nick's delight) a pizza oven. The indoor kitchen wasn't half bad either.
The entire attic level had been transformed into a master suite with a huge closet and big bathroom with a soaker tub that Kai loved. Of course water wasn't running at the moment, but eventually she'd be able to enjoy it. In the meantime Nick had gotten the solar panels working and Kai was cleaning out the fridge.
So far every place the group had chosen was empty. It was…unnerving, to say the least. There was no way these places were student housing, or even professors. So why had everyone around the University of Colorado suddenly just head for the hills rather than dying at home like the other 95% of the country?
"Did you need him for something?" Kai said.
"Need all three of you, actually. Stu just radioed. They're right outside of town, on their way here now. I told them to stop at Mother Abagail's."
"Oh! So soon?"
"Yeah, he said they made good time. We cleared the road for them."
"I'll go grab the boys and we'll meet you down there. Don't wait; I'm still walking a little slow."
Rae grinned. "I don't mind it. Gives my short legs a chance to keep up."
"Kai, Kai, Kai!" Tom yelled as he ran in from the backyard. "Kai, guess what?! Brian just came on the walkie talkie and he said Stu's group's almost here! We gotta go say hey!"
Kai cast Rae a look, and her mouth quirked. "That's what I was just about to come outside and tell you. Did you bring Nick?"
He came strolling in, face creased in confusion, and pointed at Tom. "Stu's group's here," Kai said. "On the way to Mother Abagail's now."
His expression cleared as he nodded understanding. "Let's go! I want to see the dog."
Tom frowned. "You don't think he'll chase the gals, do you?"
"Nah," Rae said. "He sounds like a good dog. Besides, you and Nick are building them a house to keep them safe."
"That's true! We're gonna put it in Tom's yard, laws yes, because Tom doesn't want 'em wanderin' into the pizza oven!"
Kai glanced at Nick and he shrugged. "Big worry," he said. "Couldn't talk him out of it."
Tom chattered on about the ladies and their future chicken mansion as they wandered down the shady sidewalk toward Mother Abagail's. Rae offered to help, because she knew chicken coops, and Tom was more than happy to accept. He loved group projects.
When they were in sight of the house, he broke off and went running to find Bonnie. He had to tell her all about the gals, too. Nick caught Kai's hand in his and their pace slowed a little.
"Something wrong?" she said.
He shook his head. "Just—nervous, maybe. It was just us for so long, and now…all these people."
"I know," she said. "But we have our own place now. A real bed. A TV that gets static."
"Blue Rays and DVDs in the TV cabinet."
"There you go," she said with a grin. She nudged his shoulder with her own. "For when you get bored with the bed."
"Don't think that's gonna happen."
She started to reply, but the sound of motorcycle engines caught her attention. "Here they come," she said.
They sat on Mother Abagail's front steps to wait, and within a few minutes a long line of motorcycles, trucks, and SUVs filled the street. His group had grown since they'd last gotten a count from him over the CB.
A man and a woman dismounted from two bikes in the front. A dog barked and bounded from a sidecar, and Tom let out a whoop of glee. Kai held up a hand to stop him from running out into the street, and she and Nick rose to greet the newcomers.
Everyone was taking off helmets. As faces were revealed Kai paused. Touched Nick's arm and gave a tiny nod. Two of the people from her dream: the older woman, and the good-looking guy. That must be Stu.
Nick squeezed her hand and she squeezed back. Stu raised a hand in greeting.
"Hey there! Whooo it's good to see y'all!" He bounded up onto the sidewalk and held out his hand to shake. "I'm Stu Redman of Arnette, Texas."
"Hi, Stu," Kai said. Her voice didn't shake, and she was proud of that. She shook his hand. "I'm Kai d'Arnaud, Abilene, Louisiana. This is Nick Andros."
Nick handed Stu his sheet of paper, and he took a moment to read it before giving Nick a nod. "Good to see you, Nick. Rae mentioned both of y'all on the radio."
He waved to the small cluster of people waiting behind him. "This here's Fran Goldsmith from Ogunquit, Maine, and Harold Lauder. They knew each other before. And the fossil's Glen Bateman. And the dog is Kojak."
Hearing his name, the animal in question barked and ran to sniff their shoes. Kai offered him her hand. He sniffed it, then gave it a big lick that made her laugh.
"It's so nice to see a dog!" she said.
"First one you've seen since?" Glen said.
Kai and Nick both nodded. "Surely there are more out there. If Kojak survived, others did too."
"Let's hope," Fran said. "I'd love to find him a girlfriend and have some puppies." She signed as she spoke, and Nick gave her a surprised look. "My little brother was deaf," she said. "My ASL isn't great, but maybe you can help me when I stumble."
He gave an enthusiastic nod and grinned in a way Fran couldn't help but return. Kai smirked; good to know she wasn't the only one susceptible to that grin.
"Come on," she said. "I know Rae's dying to meet you, and of course y'all want to see Mother Abagail."
She gestured for them to precede her and when the boy, Harold, passed by her he offered a wide, friendly smile with a bright flash of teeth. Something about that smile chilled her. It didn't seem to quite reach his eyes, like it was a mask he put on and took off as it suited him.
She shivered. That was stupid. He was just a kid, maybe eighteen at most. He'd been through hell in the past few months, like they all had, and if his smile was a little weird and strained, who could blame him? What kind of basket case would she have been going through the apocalypse at his age?
Nick cast a questioning look over his shoulder, and she shook off the moment of strangeness. They had to get all these new people introduced to Mother Abagail and settled in. Then, as she'd said that afternoon, the real work would begin.
Aug. 2-13
After that groups started arriving fast. There was still a person missing from Kai's dream, the young Black guy, but he hadn't shown up yet. Kai kept her eyes open for him, and she'd described him in detail to Nick and Rae. She hadn't told Stu and the others about the dream yet; she figured Nick had been right when he said not to lead with it.
They spent their first week in Boulder setting up basic needs: cleaning out some houses; setting up a food, water, and other basic supplies pantry; and designing welcome sessions that met twice a day to familiarize newcomers with the community they were trying to build.
They'd agreed to keep settlement limited to the neighborhoods directly around the university. Brad had started a cleaning committee that was dealing with some of the bodies—but Boulder was surprisingly, hauntingly empty. Relatively speaking. There were still plenty of dead to take care of.
Susan Stern, one of Stu's group, was leading the team out at the power plant, trying to get the power back on. A lot of the houses had solar panels, but not all of them, and there were streetlights and businesses that needed electricity. So did the water treatment facility, and running water was at the top of everyone's "must have" list. No one (except maybe Mother Abagail) was pleased with the outhouse situation.
She and Nick were getting their house the way they wanted it, adding art and other do-dads to personalize the space. The couple who had lived there pre-flu had apparently been childless, but they had great taste. Kai was about the same size as the woman, and she'd gotten over the morbidity of raiding her closet early on.
Middle of the second week or so, Kai stopped in at Mother Abagail's and Rae handed her a small stack of paper. "Post these around town. We're having a meeting."
She glanced down it and frowned. Looked back up at Rae, eyes wide.
She shrugged. "Straight from Mother Abagail. I found an old mimeograph machine under City Hall. Hand-cranked! They don't shit like that any more." She paused. Gauged Kai's expression. "You should probably talk to Nick about it before he sees one on a telephone pole."
"Yeah," she said. "I think I'll do that. Tell her I said hi. Oh, and—could you invite everyone on the list over to our place for dinner? I think we need a meeting before…we're official. Let's say seven?"
"Good idea. I'll gather them like wayward sheep."
The two women shared a wave, and Kai hurried outside to her bike and headed home. Nick would flip when he saw this. She really hoped she got to him first. He'd been at the pantry today, but he'd said he'd probably be home early since they weren't expecting any new groups until tomorrow.
His bike was in the garage. Good. She went in through the kitchen; he stood at the counter peeling an orange, and he glanced over at her with a welcoming smile.
"Hey, this is a surprise," he said and leaned over to kiss her. "I thought you were going to Mom A's."
"Hey," she said as she returned his kiss. "Have you seen these? Rae found an old hand-cranked mimeograph machine down in the City Hall basement and got it working. Why the fuck did they still have a relic like that?"
He shrugged and took the paper from her. "I guess it's good for us they did. Hey, our names are on this," he said, his brows drawing together as he read it. "Boulder Free Zone Committee. Kai, what the fuck is this?"
She boosted herself up onto the kitchen counter next to where he leaned against it. "Apparently these are the names Mother Abagail selected to…run this place. At least for now."
"I don't understand. She wants us to be in charge? Who's Larry Underwood?"
"I don't think he's here yet. The name, though…you don't think he's the same Larry Underwood who sings that song?"
He gave her a look. "I don't really know songs, Kai."
"Sorry," she said, and flushed. "There was this song that was popular before everything went down. People were calling it the song of the summer and shit like that. I think the guy's name was Larry Underwood, but I might be wrong. That would be a sort of strange coincidence if it were."
His mouth quirked. "We couldn't've lucked out and gotten Bill Murray like in Zombieland, huh?"
"Not that kind of apocalypse, babe." She rested her chin on his shoulder as she scanned it again. "Not any big surprises, really, except Larry. But only since we haven't met him yet. Stu, Fran, Rae, Glen, Susan Stern—good choice; I like her, and she's working hard on the power—and us."
"No Harold," he said.
Her expression clouded. "Is that a problem?"
He hitched a shoulder. "No, I guess not. Just—he came in with Frannie, Stu, Susan, and Glen. Weird that the four of them are listed, but not him."
"He's probably not going to like that."
He cast her a look. "You don't like him very much, do you?"
She frowned. "I don't know. He seems—perfectly pleasant. And no denying he has good ideas. Just…" She pushed herself off the counter in a restless motion and propped against the island opposite him. "Something about him feels…wrong." Her nose scrunched. "Maybe that's too strong a word."
"Your instincts are usually good," he said. She'd noticed something off about Julie right away, when it had taken Nick time to reach the same conclusion. But then maybe he was just distracted by boobs.
"He's young," she said. "He feels like he has a lot to prove. Maybe that's all it is, and once things settle down around here, he'll find his place and settle in."
He waved the list. "This won't help with that."
"No, but maybe the only reason she left him off is because of his age. He's, what, seventeen? Sixteen?" She flicked her fingers. "I wouldn't have wanted to be in charge of anything when I was that age."
"I don't want to be in charge now," he said with a grimace. "Why us? And doesn't this seem like an unfair concentration of power? Seven of the eight people on this list came from two different groups."
She lifted a brow. "I'm sure you could decline, love. She won't force you into it."
"No, she won't." He let out a sigh and handed her back the sheet. "But it's what she wants, and we're here…because of her. Because we've agreed to follow her. I'm not sure it's right to pick and choose which parts we follow. Especially not something like this."
He waved a hand to stop her before she could reply. "I'm not saying blind obedience. Use our own sense and morality. But this doesn't seem like one of those times."
"I agree," she said.
"So you're going to do it too?"
Her lips curved. "We're in this together, bud. You jump, I jump."
"What if I'd said no?"
"We would've talked about it until we reached a decision we were both comfortable with. Maybe that meant no, maybe it meant yes, maybe it meant…we'll serve temporarily until a more permanent government solution is reached."
"Aren't you the diplomat," he said. He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her to him for a kiss. "It's hot."
"You're hot," she said. "But before you get too excited, I should tell you—I invited everyone over for dinner tonight."
"Everyone?"
She nodded toward the paper. "Minus the mysterious Mr. Underwood. I thought we could fire up the pizza oven."
His good eye brightened. "I like that idea. What time will they be here?"
"Seven." She glanced at his watch. It was barely three. Her mouth curved in a teasing smirk. "We have some time."
"Good, because the more I think about you as President d'Arnaud, the hotter it gets."
She laughed. "No one's president, you goof."
His eye took on a faraway look. "In my head right now, you are definitely president. You're wearing…a suit…oh but wow underneath your skirt you have on stockings and a garter?!"
She shoved his shoulder a little, but he flashed an unrepentant grin. "And when you unbutton your blouse you're wearing…whew, that's quite a risqué bra, Madame President!"
"And why am I, the president of the Boulder Free Zone, unbuttoning my blouse?"
"Because you're about to fuck me in your office, obviously."
"Ohh." She tugged his beard until he dipped his head to kiss her. "Are you the First Gentleman of the Boulder Free Zone in this scenario?"
"No. Other ones, yeah, but not this one. In this one I'm the First Boy Toy."
She bit her lip and eyed him up and down. "I guess you're saying you want me to take you upstairs and play with you?"
"Doesn't have to be upstairs. But yes. Please."
"I think I can do that. Welcome to the new Oval Office, Mr. Andros."
Chapter 22: Politics
Summary:
The group meets to discuss the Boulder Free Zone Committee. Harold's move at the meeting surprises them all.
Notes:
Hi, guys! So yeah I didn't publish last week, and as of now this is all I have written on the fic thus far. I'm super busy with school and got distracted by a couple other fics, so if you guys wanna send some love my way it would really help! I know everything that's gonna happen...I just gotta write it...
In other news, I watched The New Mutants and went into a spiral on my blog about Henry Zaga's incredibly thicc thighs, so if you wanna go experience that, check out the henry zaga tag (or the nick andros tag) on my tumbler, binickandros. But uh hence Kai objectifying Nick's body. Whoops.
Enjoy, and drop me a line!
Chapter Text
i don't know nothin' about democracy
don't know how to spell bureaucracy
don't know about the ups and downs of the economy
all i know is that they're there and i'm here, i'm here
Ellis Paul, "Broke and Hungry"
When Stu and Frannie showed up for dinner, there was a guy with them Kai recognized immediately—not from real life, but from the dream. Stu introduced him as Larry Underwood, and when Kai introduced him to Nick, they exchanged a meaningful look that told him what he needed to know.
"Come in," Kai said. "Welcome to Boulder. I'm glad you made it."
"Thanks," he said. "Thanks for having me. Imagine my surprise when I pull in and I'm immediately told I've been nominated to the Free Zone Committee."
"It took all of us by surprise," Nick said, "and we've been here a while."
"I don't think any of us were looking to be in charge, but I guess someone has to be," Fran said. She signed as she spoke, and Kai found herself wondering, as she had before, what had happened to Frannie's little brother. The flu? It didn't seem like it. And it didn't seem polite to ask.
"I kinda thought that was Mother Abagail's job," Larry was saying.
"I guess it's not a theocracy," said Kai. She waved for them to follow her. "Everyone else is already here. We're outside, using the pizza oven. Nick and Rae got our solar panels working a few days ago, so we have cold beer and soda, and a surprise for dessert."
"Kai's a baker," Fran told Larry. "If she's offering a dessert surprise, it's worth sticking around for."
He grinned, nervously. Stuck his hands in his pockets and pulled them out again. Kai cast Nick a glance, and he nodded. He touched Larry's arm and beckoned for him to stay behind with him in the kitchen while everyone else went outside. He looked confused for a moment, but then he caught Nick's meaning and nodded.
"Hey, man," he said once they were alone. "Fran said you can read lips?"
Nick nodded and scribbled something on his pad. "Just talk normally. If I miss something I can usually figure it out, but I might ask you to repeat."
"Sure, no problem. So, uh…where ya from?"
"Nebraska. Met Kai in Arkansas. I think we're gonna swap stories after dinner. I wanted to talk a sec, bc this shit is overwhelming. Esp the whole FZC thing."
Larry let out a long breath and scrubbed a hand over his short hair. "God, no shit." He took the beer Nick handed him with a nod of thanks. "I feel like I just walked in the door. Haven't picked a house. Barely met Mother Abagail. Now all of a sudden I'm supposed to be in charge? People don't know me from Adam. Who the fuck am I to tell them what to do?"
Nick shrugged and took a pull of his beer before picking up his pen. "I guess it's up to us to decide how much we'll be telling ppl what to do. But I promise Glen'll have something to say about it, so don't get too comfy w/ the idea yet."
His brow quirked in acknowledgement. "You, Kai, and Rae were in the first group, right?"
"Yep. We met Rae in Kansas & were the 1st grp to get to HH, NE."
"We saw your signs along the way."
Nick grinned. Larry wasn't the first person to tell him that, but it never failed to tickle him. "Good. How big was your group?"
"Good size. Fifty or so. I came all the way from New York. Kept pickin' up people along the way."
"Wow. Almost as far as Fran & Harold."
Larry huffed out a chuckle. "Funny you should say that. Before we hit Nebraska, I was following Harold's signs. I was planning to stop by his place tomorrow, meet him and say thank you. I was surprised when I got here that Fran's with Stu and not him."
Nick shifted his weight and used the pen to scratch his cheek. "Harold's like 16-17. Smart, tho."
"Guess that's why he's not on the committee. His age?"
He hesitated. He wanted to be honest with Larry, but he also didn't want to talk shit about Harold—or color Larry's impression of him. It was obvious he admired him, and there was a lot of admire about him. It maybe wasn't entirely his fault he came across a little…creepy. Or, as Kai had said, wrong. "I think so," he wrote. "Mom A didn't explain any of the choices to us. Just handed Rae a list & told her to print it off."
"Guess that's that, then," Larry said.
Kai appeared from the back patio. "Hey, guys. Came back in for drinks. Nicky, I think we're about ready for pizza."
He set his drink down and clapped his hands. He was very excited about the pizza oven. He nodded goodbye to Larry and kissed Kai's temple on his way out.
She offered Larry a smile and gestured toward the fridge. "Mind helping me carry a few things? Since apparently Nick forgot."
"Sure, no problem. This's a nice place."
"Thanks," she said with a grin. She opened the fridge and handed him a tray of canapés. Grabbed a pitcher of sangria and another of tea, then bumped the door closed with her hip. "Several of them in this neighborhood have solar panels. They're working on getting the power back on, but in the meantime it's nice to have cold drinks. I can show you around tomorrow. Did you go to orientation today?"
He nodded and followed her through the open folding glass doors onto the slate patio. "Yeah, we got the maps and everything."
"Good," she said. She set the pitchers on the table and motioned for Larry to do the same with the tray. "Then you know the neighborhoods we're asking people to stick to."
He frowned and took the open seat next to Stu. "I was gonna ask about that."
"It's purely for practical purposes," Susan said. She selected a mini quiche from the tray and Glen poured them each a glass of sangria. "We'd rather people not scatter out too much while we're all still arriving. That way we can have more accurate head counts. Plus it'll make it easier on the power grid, as well as just…getting things cleaned up."
"Bodies, you mean," Larry said.
Stu nodded and passed Fran the tea pitcher. "They're all over. Like any city. We've already formed a cleanup committee, but they can't do the whole place. We need them to focus neighborhood by neighborhood, because it ain't just the houses."
"We're not trying to recreate the idea of ghettos," Glen said.
"Glen." Kai rolled her eyes a little. "Come on, please."
"I know, I know," she said and waved a hand. "It's practical. I get it. It makes sense. And once we get more stable, we'll ease the restrictions. But what happens if someone wants to settle outside the lines we've drawn?"
"That's their choice," Fran said. "It'd be like anyone settling outside city limits, before. You might not be on city water. You might not have city trash pickup. But if that's where you want to live, fine."
Nick stopped by the table to snag his beer. "First couple of pizzas are almost ready," he said. He ruffled Kai's hair, then grinned when she batted him away.
"Don't talk about anything important until I get back."
"Cute and he cooks," Susan said. "Hold on to that one."
Kai laughed. "I guess for some of us, finding The One only took the end of the world."
"Amen," Stu said.
"I'll drink to that," said Larry.
"We'll have to have another dinner where can bring our apocalypse buddies," Rae said. She'd picked the term up from Nick and Kai and found she liked it. "I thought we'd keep this just committee."
"I think I'm the only person here without one," Glen said. "That's fine with me. I was married for forty years, and I don't need another man in my house." She paused. "Or woman. A dog's okay, though." She grinned down at Kojak and tossed him a cocktail wiener.
"I know you've got somethin' to say about this Free Zone Committee thing, Professor," Stu said. "You might as well spill it."
She frowned. "Not till after dinner. Let's just eat, enjoy the evening and these lovely pizzas. But, yes. I have a great deal to say."
Stu raised his beer to her. "Not a goddamn one of us doubted it."
After dinner they all retired to the living room, where Kai served pie while Nick, Stu, and Larry worked on cleanup. Until they got the water running again, pretty much everyone was using paper plates. It was a thousand times easier than trying to wash dishes in a bucket, and the overcrowding of landfills wasn't quite as much of a worry anymore.
They arrived in the living room with fresh coffee, Stu built up a fire in the fireplace, and they settled in to finally get to the meat of why they were here.
"I guess we should start by introducin' ourselves. I mean, we all pretty much know each other, but we've never really told our stories—and Larry's new," Stu said. "I'll go first, since it was my idea. I'm Stu Redman, from Arnette, Texas. Uh, well…Arnette was sorta Ground Zero for this thing. Some guy named Campion was workin' in a military research lab in the Texas desert. Somethin' went wrong, and he lit out with his wife and baby. Was too late, though, and he brought the flu with him across half the state. Ended up in Arnette."
"Jesus," Larry said.
"Yep," said Stu. He took a pull of his beer and frowned down at the bottle. "The military rounded up the whole goddamn town. Took us to the CDC, first in Atlanta, then in Vermont, but they couldn't figure nothin' out from us. Everyone died, except me. Even the guinea pigs."
Fran rubbed his back. "You don't have to talk about that part, Stu. It's okay."
He gave a brief nod and a little sigh of relief. "Anyway, I met Glen in New Hampshire a week or so later. Uh, little background on me, I guess: my wife Norma died about four years ago. Cancer. I used to work at the calculator factory in Braintree. Never went to college. Didn't finish high school. Just a poor, dumb redneck from East Texas who somehow survived the end of the world."
"Not dumb," Glen said with a frown. "I've met dumb, and you aren't it. I guess I'll go next." She waved. "I'm Glennis Bateman. Glen. I'm from Woodsville, New Hampshire, and this fine fella here is Kojak. I didn't know him before the flu, but I'm glad we found each other. I'm a widow for the last two years, and I taught sociology at Woodsville Community College for over forty years. I just recently retired, was enjoying my golden years, and then this." She sighed. "Guess I won't get bored.
"The first time I met Stu I told him to get lost. I didn't want to leave Woodsville and I wasn't following any damn dreams halfway across the country. Not at my age. But then he came back a few days later with Frannie and Harold and I guess I changed my mind. So here we are, more than halfway across the country, and roped into a committee without any sort of due process. But we'll get to that."
Stu nudged Fran's knee. "You next, kid."
She smiled at him, then at the group. "I'm Fran Goldsmith, from Ogunquit, Maine. I was a college student before—everything. I know you've all met Harold Lauder. He's from Ogunquit, too, and we knew each other before. His sister Amy was my best friend, and I used to babysit Harold. So far we're the only two people we've met who knew each other from before the flu."
She paused, briefly, and took a sip of her sparkling water. "I lost my parents, but my little brother died when we were younger. He was deaf, which is how I know some ASL. Also"—she took a deep breath—"I'm pregnant. The father died of the flu. But I guess everyone's gonna know before too much longer, so I might as well just tell you now."
Stu smiled and squeezed her shoulder while exclamations of delight and surprise went around the room.
"I'm nervous," she said, "but an OB came in with Larry's group, so that's some luck."
"I guess I'll go next," Larry said as the chatter died down. "I'm Larry Underwood from Queens, New York. I was in Queens visiting my ma when shit started goin' down. I came outta the city with a woman named Rita, but she…passed along the way." He shifted in his seat, briefly uncomfortable. "Then I ran into Nadine Cross and Joe, and Lucy Swann, my girlfriend, further on after that. I followed Harold's signs all the way from New York to Nebraska. That kid really got me through."
Frannie offered him a smile. "He was keen on those signs. He'll be glad to know they helped you."
"That's about all about me. Um, I was a musician before all this. Tryin' to be, anyway. Mostly just fuckin' up my life. I'm not really sure why Mother Abagail would want me on her committee, but…I guess she's not one much for explaining herself. Just from what I saw."
"She's not," Kai said with a wry smile. "I guess I'll go next?" She glanced at Nick, and he nodded. "I'm Kai d'Arnaud from Abilene, Louisiana, and this is Nick Andros, originally from Nebraska." She talked about Remy—told Stu he'd probably been through Arnette, for chilli—and about the restaurant. She gave them a brief recap of how they'd met, Nick's attack and subsequent illness, then their run-in with Julie and how they'd met Rae.
"Which brings us to me," she said. "Hi, I'm Rae Brentner. I'm from Pratt, Kansas, and before all this I was a farmer. My husband died a few years ago, also of cancer, and my son and I had been running the farm ever since. My daughter was a student at Berkley." She explained about hearing Mother Abagail's voice on the road and heading back home to find Nick, Kai, and Tom in her house.
"Julie and I knew each other before," she said to Frannie. "She dated my son. Strange thing, this flu. How it picks and chooses."
"Truly," Glen said, her voice dry. "Sounds like it maybe should've chosen differently with her."
"I wouldn't've minded," Kai said with a grimace. Nick nodded emphatic agreement.
Susan went next. She'd been a nuclear engineer before Trips, which was why she was in charge of the power station now. She gave them a brief run-down of her situation before Stu's group found them. "We'd already planned our escape, but them showing up when they did gave us the impetus to do it."
"Holy shit," Larry said.
"Someone else the flu shoulda chosen," Stu said with a glower.
"But it didn't," said Kai. "He needs people too." She glanced around at the group. "I assume all of us dreamed of Mother Abagail, and also of Flagg?"
Stu gave a grim nod. "Since early on. Nightmares got real bad just before we got here, but they seem to've eased up some."
Rae glanced at Kai. "You should tell them," she said.
She looked at Nick, who nodded. "It's time."
"Tell us what?" Frannie said. "Is it about Flagg?"
"Sort of," Kai said. "It's about a dream I had back in Pratt." She drew in a long breath and explained everything she could remember about the dream, how they'd all been there before she'd ever seen their faces, and the offer Flagg had made.
Larry looked pale under his dark skin, and Stu's brilliant blue eyes were wide. Glen just scowled. "Bullshit. He's full of shit! He was just trying to get under your skin, Kai, and clearly it worked!"
"Frannie and I weren't there?" Susan said with a frown.
Kai shook her head. "Nope. I don't know why. Maybe—Frannie hadn't come with us because she's pregnant, and you stayed behind, too, because you're the only one who knows how the power plant works."
"Musicians and sociology professors are a lot more disposable than engineers," Glen muttered, but not with any kind of resentment.
Nick waved a hand to get their attention, and Kai translated as he signed. "The point is he knew all of our faces. He knew we would be important to this place. Now we get this list from Mom A that's all of us, plus Susan and Fran. Clearly whatever his agenda in sending Kai that dream, he got at least part of it right. For some weird reason, we matter here. To Mom A, and to her God. Who I don't believe in, by the way. Just to clear that up."
Larry snorted. "That makes two of us, brother, but I guess my ma's preacher was right all along. Cuz here we are, and there he is, and Mother Abagail claims God's pullin' all the strings."
"I don't know about any God," Glen said. "All I know is I don't like this." She grabbed the list off the table and waved it. "Is this America or isn't it? An old lady can just dream up a list of names and suddenly we're in charge? That's not very democratic!"
Stu leaned forward. "Hate to break it to you, professor, but this ain't America, not anymore. It's a new world now, and I guess a new way of doin' things."
"Glen isn't wrong, though," Susan said. "We can't just announce that suddenly we're in charge. That's not right. What if people don't like it? What if they have other ideas?"
"Well…" Larry cleared his throat. "From what I've seen, as the newest one here, you guys sort of are in charge. You got here first. You're doing most of the organizing. Susan's working out at the power plant, Rae's got the cleanup crews, Stu's the general greeter, almost like a mayor. Frannie's working on the school. Kai runs the welcome sessions, Nick has the pantry, and Glen's building the library of useful post-apocalyptic how-to books."
They all looked around at each other, realizing Larry was right. "We—were the first ones here," Frannie said. "Someone had to do something."
He held up a hand. "That's what I'm sayin'. Someone had to do something, and you stepped up. All Mother Abagail wants you to do is keep steppin' up. All I've heard since I got here is Ask Stu or Ask Rae or Ask Kai. Fill in the blank on the name, and they're sitting in this room. They see you as leaders. She just wants to make it formal."
"Clearly she sees that potential in you, Larry," Rae said.
"Yeah, well. She's old," he mumbled.
Nick grinned. "You can't have it both ways. Either she knows what she's doing and you belong on this committee as much as the rest of us, or she's old and senile. You seem to be leaning toward the former, so you might as well just accept it."
He scowled down at his empty pie plate, but eventually gave a grudging shrug. "I guess so. I don't like it, but I guess so."
"Back to Glen's point," Stu said. "While it's not America, she is right. There's this town meetin', and I think we should use it to let people vote. We're small enough still to do that, right?" he said with a glance at Kai.
She nodded. "Yeah, a direct vote would work. But—are we opening the floor to nominations?"
"We have to," Susan said. "Otherwise it's just not fair."
"What if they nominate someone we don't like?" Nick said.
Glen snorted. "Well there ya go! We'll just rig the vote! Five minutes in and we're reinventing politics!"
"No one said that, Glen," Frannie said, her tone even. "I can't really think of anyone right offhand I would be opposed to."
"What about Harold?" Stu said.
A silence fell. Heavy.
Larry looked around, confused. "What about Harold?" he said. "His signs were ingenious. I've heard good things around town about him, too, and he was here just as early as the rest of you. I was surprised not to see his name on the list."
"He's only sixteen," Fran said. "Or…maybe seventeen. I forget when his birthday is. Anyway, he's young. That's probably why she left him out."
Nick and Kai exchanged a look. He lifted a brow. She gave a minute shake of her head.
"We could limit it to over eighteen," Susan said. "Not to specifically exclude Harold, but just because it makes sense."
"That's an idea," Stu said. He frowned. Finished off his beer and set the bottle aside. "We might just be borrowin' trouble, though. And Larry's right: Harold's smart as hell. We could do worse for an ideas-man."
"Let's leave it," Kai said. She wasn't sure why. "We'll open the floor to nominations and see what happens. If Larry's right, it won't matter much anyway."
Larry relaxed a bit, because he was sure that would get him out of having to serve. The only people who knew him were his own group, and they wouldn't nominate him. Surely. And even if they did, he'd never get enough votes.
"I guess that's our first decision as the ad-hoc Boulder Free Zone Committee," Stu said.
"To many more like it," Rae said, lifting her glass.
"May Mother Abagail's God have mercy on us," Glen said.
Aug. 16
"So we have to dress up?" Nick said with a scowl. It was the day of the meeting, and he'd closed up the pantry early to get ready. He'd found Kai at home when he'd gotten there, and after a few brief hello kisses (far too few for Nick's liking), they now stood in front of the mirror in their bedroom discussing the evening's agenda.
She came up behind him and put her arms around his waist. He looked down to see her hands as she said, "You don't have to wear a tux, but I think we should look nice. We're being introduced as the committee."
His frown deepened and he turned to face her. "I'm hoping no one nominates me and that'll just be temporary."
"I already promised I wouldn't, love. You don't have to glare at me."
He sighed and his expression eased. "I know. I'm sorry. This is just—stressful."
"I know, baby." She stroked his upper arms with her palms and squeezed the muscles there. Lifted a brow and squeezed again. "Someone's been working out."
"Don't try to distract me."
"I'm not! You're distracting me with these guns!"
He grinned a little. "Well, yeah. Now that I'm not dying and can eat and all the work I've been doing since we left Arkansas. I told you before I didn't used to be so skinny."
She looked up into his face. Touched his cheek with light fingers. He was so familiar to her, after so short a time. She traced the lines of his forehead. The sharp cheekbone. The prominent slope of his nose. The full width of his moth. "Man, I really hit the apocalypse buddy lottery, didn't I?" she said with a soft smile.
He grabbed her around the waist and gave her a long kiss. "You sure as hell did." He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eye. She ran her hands through his hair, down his back. After a long, quiet moment, he let out a resigned sigh and pulled away just enough to free his hands. "So I guess I should figure out something to wear."
"I like that purple shirt you wore the other day."
His brows quirked in agreement. He liked that shirt too. "Do I have to wear a tie?"
"That might be overkill. But we should probably both wash our hair."
He tucked a lock of hers behind her ear and kissed her nose. "I'll help you with yours if you help me with mine."
"Deal. Hey, I love you. And for what it's worth, I think you'd be amazing on the committee."
His lips twitched. "I love you too, and you're very sweet. But possibly misguided."
They'd all agreed that once they worked things out about the committee, the next priority at the community meeting was figuring out how to get the water back on. Susan said electricity had to come first, because nothing at the water processing plant could work without it, and she could really use some help with that. So they rearranged their priorities.
Now Kai and Nick labored over several buckets as they "bathed" and washed their hair, and Kai was glad she'd cut it in her fit of mourning. She was thinking of cutting it again, but without the fit this time.
The meeting was being held on campus, start time 7:30 PM, and by 6:45 they were both ready. He paused when he saw her, a sudden catch in his chest. She wore an emerald green dress, sleeveless, caught in at the waist with a flowing skirt that came to just below the knee. Her hair was twisted up onto her head, she had one makeup, and she wore strappy gold sandals with 3-inch heels.
"Wow," he said.
"Yeah?" She blushed a little and twitched the skirt. "I don't usually wear…dresses." She made a face. "I guess I am kinda butch."
He grinned. "Whatever you are, you're gorgeous."
"I've got no time for your flattery, Andros." But she paused to kiss him so that when it broke apart she had to go fix her lipstick and he had to wipe his face.
They stepped outside and joined the trickle of people headed to the meeting. The trickle increased to a flow as they got closer, and the group was laughing and chatting. Someone had a ball they were throwing around. Music played.
It was a summer picnic atmosphere. Carefree and light, and probably the most relaxed any of them had been since June. The other members of the committee joined them as they walked, but they'd agreed ahead of time not to sit together. They didn't want to look like a block.
Rae and a small group of volunteers were already at the hall when the crowd started to arrive. They had solar-powered generators going so that there were lights, a sound system, and cold refreshments. Everyone mingled, sipping punch, until Stu and Rae started herding them inside.
It took some time for the seats to fill up—it was a beautiful night and no one wanted to come inside—but eventually the hall was full to the point that some people were standing in the back. Stu stood awkwardly on the stage, hating every second of this, and wondering how the hell he got nominated to lead the meeting. He was a high school dropout from East Texas, not some—community leader!
He cleared his throat and tapped the mic, jumping a little at the noise. "Uh, hey," he said into it. Feedback squealed. He pulled back, frowned, and tried again. "Hey, y'all, I think it's about time to get started."
Quiet fell almost instantly. Stu looked out at the sea of faces and felt his face go red. His collar felt too tight. How'd he let Frannie talk him into wearing a tie?! He felt like every single person out there could see through him, could recognize his doubt and uncertainty, could tell how out of place he was, how out of his depth.
His gaze fell on Frannie in the front row, and she gave him a soft, reassuring smile. It slipped over him like a balm, and a large portion of his fear drained away.
"Well. Alright, then. Hey, y'all, my name is Stu Redman from Arnette, Texas. I think I've met most of y'all, if not everybody. I try to say hey to every group as they come in, but lately it's been pretty busy. If we haven't met yet, feel free to find me after the meetin' and say hey."
He cleared his throat again. Smiled a little. "Okay, well, Rae was nice enough to print us out a whole stack of agendas, so you'll see that the top of the list is approvin' the Boulder Free Zone Committee. That's gonna be the sort of, uh, governin' body, I guess, around here for a while. Until we come up with somethin' better."
There was a brief titter of laughter, then silence fell again. Jesus they were so quiet.
"Uh, anyway, lemme introduce everybody on that list, for those of you who might be new. Like I said, I'm Stu Redman. Next is Nick Andros, from Nebraska. Stand up, Nicky."
Kai signed it to him, and with a puzzled frown Nick rose to his feet.
"After that we got Glen Bateman from Woodsville, New Hampshire. She's not as grumpy as she pretends to be, I promise. Then Rae Brenter from Pratt, Kansas."
He went through the list name by name, until the whole committee was standing. Kai grabbed Nick's hand and squeezed, and before Stu could say anything else, a voice piped up from a few rows in front of them.
"Mr. Chairman! Mr. Chairman?!"
Stu and Fran exchanged startled looks. "Uh. Chair recognizes—Harold Lauder," Stu said.
Harold stood, a big grin on his face. "Mr. Chairman, I move that we accept Mother Abagail's Boulder Free Zone Committee as it stands, in toto."
Nick stared in horror as Kai translated. Larry glanced over at them, eyes huge in his face. "What?!" he mouthed.
"Uh." Stu was nonplussed. "Uh, well—uh. Judge Farris, can we, uh, do that?"
"Sure we can," he said, pushing to his feet. "And I think it's a damn fine idea. Seconded!"
"Okay." Stu scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Well, I guess—moved and seconded. Uh, all in favor?"
There was a roar of approval that startled them all. Stu blinked. "Uh, well. All opposed?"
Silence.
"Sounds like the ayes have it," Judge Farris said. "Motion passed."
Each member of the newly sworn-in Boulder Free Zone Committee felt stunned, and all but Stu stank back into their seats with shell-shocked expressions.
"Fuck," Nick signed, emphatically, and Kai nodded agreement.
They'd been worried about Harold objecting to the nominations. It hadn't occurred to anyone that he'd be the one to get them elected.
Kai shivered. Some part of her couldn't help but wonder what his game was. That was unfair. He had seemed sincerely supportive. It was Kai's own mistrusting nature that made her so suspicious of Harold. She needed to get the fuck over it and stop second-guessing everything he did.
She looked up, and through the crowd she saw Harold, his eyes fixed on her with an expression she couldn't interpret. Hunger? Anger? Simple indifference? She wasn't sure, but it was cold, and hard, and she groped for Nick's hand and squeezed tight.
Harold's mouth moved in a smile that didn't meet his eyes, and he offered a little nod before turning to face forward again.
Nick gave her a nudge, his mouth tense with worry, but she just shook her head. "I'll tell you later," she signed. Meanwhile Stu was calling her up to give her little spiel about the welcome sessions. She pressed a quick kiss to Nick's cheek, let go of his hand, and slipped away.
Chapter 23: Gone
Summary:
Mother Abagail vanishes, and the committee wrestles with a difficult decision.
Chapter Text
in my dream i was drowning my sorrows
but my sorrows, they learned to swim
surrounding me, going down on me
spilling over the brim
U2, "Until the End of the World"
The meeting moved fairly quickly after that. Susan found some volunteers for the power plant; the burial team was recognized and grew their ranks by a few; a "turning off" committee was formed to go around unplugging toasters and TVs so the power grid wouldn't immediately overload once they got it going again.
Stu was about to ask if there was any further business when a commotion started at the back of the hall. The doors burst open and a woman carrying a small boy ran through them. She was waving a sheet of paper and yelling, but she was so hysterical no one could understand her.
Larry, like everyone else, turned to see what was going on, and he recognized Lucy Swann, his girlfriend, and their sort-of adopted son, Joe. He shoved his way through the crowd to reach her. "Lucy, what's wrong? Is it Joe?!"
"It's Mother Abagail!" she cried. She hauled in a deep breath in an attempt to calm down, but it was no good. "She's gone!"
Conversation started as a low, confused murmur, but it quickly swelled. Stu, at the front, saw the potential for panic. "Everyone, calm down! Quiet now! Lucy, is that you? Come on up here and let's see what's goin' on. Give her space, y'all, clear a path!"
Larry wrapped an arm around her and led her to where Stu waited. He took the paper from her and read it, his expression growing more troubled with every word. He passed it to Frannie, who stared down in disbelief, and then passed it to Glen.
Stu scrubbed a palm over his face and stood a moment, one hand braced on his hip and the other covering his mouth. Finally he gave himself a little shake and walked to the microphone again. "Well. It seems Mother Abagail—well." He swallowed. Frannie gave him the note, and he glanced down at it again, as though the words might've changed since the first time he saw them.
"She's gone," he said. He called for silence when the crowed erupted. "She left. She said—she needs time to commune—with God. I guess sorta like…Jesus in the desert?" He frowned. "Not that Mother Abagail's Jesus, and I know she'd be mad at me for implyin' otherwise. She says we're not to look for her, and she'll—be back—when she's able."
This time he didn't try to quell them. There were shouted questions. Tears. Confusion and fear. Stu looked as shellshocked as they sounded.
Kai had been translating for Nick, and he looked at her with his good eye big. "They're gonna panic," he said. "Stu's gotta get control or we'll lose them."
She looked that way, but Stu was still frozen, indecision and confusion written in every line of his lanky body. Kai took Nick's hand and pulled him with her toward the front. She left him standing with Fran and went to Stu. She touched his arm, lightly, but he jumped like she'd smacked him.
He stepped back. Kai took his place at the microphone and cleared her throat. "Hi, hello. Everyone, please. Please, let's try to stay calm." She tapped the mic, and when that didn't work, she put two fingers between her lips and let out a piercing whistle that echoed around the hall.
They all stopped and stared at her, and she smiled a little. "That's better. Okay, look, I'm not gonna lie to y'all: I'm confused too. I don't understand why she'd do this, but…we've all come this far, haven't we? We followed dreams of her to Nebraska, or to here, or to both. Y'all just voted to confirm her selections for the Free Zone Committee." She offered Harold a nod of acknowledgement. "That took a lot of trust. A lot of faith. I'm not sayin' y'all have to believe in Mother Abagail's God, or even believe the same way she does, but if she says this…pilgrimage or vision quest or whatever is something she has to do, then we need to trust her."
"She's over a hundred years old!" someone called. "There are wild animals out there!"
"Wolves!"
"Coyotes!"
Kai held up a hand before they could go any further. "Do we really think that Mother Abagail has survived two world wars, a Great Depression, Jim Crow, the Cold War, major recessions, oil crises, and not one but two worldwide plague events only to be taken out by some overblown motherfucker with a mullet and a goddamn coyote?!"
That was met with shocked silence, but then someone laughed, and eventually it caught on like the fear had a moment ago.
"Pardon my language," she said, primly. "I'm just saying—Mother Abagail suggested a committee, and y'all voted to confirm us, so now trust us to lead this community while she's gone."
"We trust you, Kai!" a voice called. She thought it was Brad the vet, from their group.
"Thank you," she said. "That's all we ask." She glanced back at Stu, then out at the crowd again. "I'm goin' to hand things back over to Stu, so y'all be nice."
He gave her arm a brief squeeze as they swapped spots.
She went back to Nick, and he cut her a half-grin. "That was good," he said.
"Thanks. I'm glad it worked."
"So far."
Stu adjourned the meeting and told everyone to go home and try to get some rest. She didn't want them looking for her, so they wouldn't—much. But first thing in the morning they would send a few people around town and out into the woods just to check the lay of the land. Volunteers nearly overwhelmed him, and he told them to assemble in front of Mother Abagail's house at seven the next morning.
With that they were dismissed, and the committee members headed to Rae's for their first official meeting. Larry took Lucy and Joe home, and by the time he got there they were settled in with drinks and a roaring fire. He took the beer Rae offered him and dropped down into a chair with a long, gusty sigh.
"That kid was just starting to come out of his shell a little. I'm afraid this mighta set him back a month or more," he said, in reference to Joe.
"What happened?" Fran said. "How did he find the note?"
"Lucy left because he had to pee, and when she got him outside he got upset. He started trying to drag her somewhere, Lucy didn't know where, but he was so agitated she finally gave in and went with him. He took her to Mother Abagail's house, and the note was on the hall table."
He took a pull of his beer and sat a moment fiddling with the label. "It's funny, because when we got to the meeting Lucy asked me where she was. I told her I didn't know, but then with everything else I forgot about it."
"I never even thought about it," Stu said. "I was so worried about havin' to speak in front of everybody and the nominations and everything. She didn't even really cross my mind."
Frannie rested a hand on his back. "I don't think any of us thought about her. We were all busy, all preoccupied."
"That's what she wanted," Glen said. "She left when we were all busy elsewhere, when no one was looking for her. Kai probably saved us from a goddamn riot with that little speech of hers. The thing about the mullet was especially inspired."
Rae paced away from one of the picture windows that dominated the back wall. "We should be out looking for her, not sitting around here chatting about it."
"She told us not to," Nick said.
Rae threw out an arm in frustration. "You of all people, Nick!? Yes, she told us not to, but she's old! She's clearly not in her right mind!"
Nick's mouth twisted in a frown. "You can't have it both ways."
"What does that mean?" Susan said.
"He means we can't take her word as gospel when it suits us, but then when she does something we don't like call her a senile old woman," Glen said. "And he's right. He was right when he said it about the committee nominations, and he's right this time, too. Either we have faith in her, like Kai said tonight, or—we don't. If we choose the latter then this whole goddamn thing goes up in smoke and we look like we drank Mother Abagail's Kool-Aid."
"That's not—of course I have faith in her! But there are bears out there! And it's not cold, but she's old and she always needs a shawl, even in the middle of the day!"
"We're all worried about her, Rae," Kai said, her voice quiet.
"In my opinion we're wasting far too much energy worrying about her when the real problem's right across the mountains," Glen said. "I don't think he's playing tiddlywinks over in the desert. Have any of you dreamt recently?"
"Crucifixes," Stu said. His face was pale, his eyes bloodshot. He'd taken off his tie and rolled up his sleeves, and he had one ankle propped on the knee of the other leg. His foot jogged up and down in agitation. "Who's he crucifyin'?"
"Drug addicts," Nick said. "Alcoholics. Anyone who breaks his rules."
"We can't keep relying on dreams for information," Glen said.
Stu shot her a long look. "What are you sayin', professor?"
She lifted her hands in a shrug. "You're a smart man, East Texas, despite all appearances to the contrary. I think you can figure it out."
Larry snorted. "He might be smart, but I'm dumb as a rock. Explain, please."
"She's talking about spies, Larry," Kai said.
There was a brief lull while it penetrated, then he jumped to his feet like a scalded cat. "Spies?! You mean sending some of our people—there?! To him?! That's suicide! Murder!"
"Not necessarily," Fran said, a stubborn line forming between her brows. "Glen's right. We need information. Solid info, not dreams that he may or may not be influencing."
He looked around the room with wide, incredulous eyes. "You're kidding me. All of you think this is a good idea? Sending our people across the mountains, across the desert, to the guy who regularly haunts our dreams and who we believe is crucifying anyone who disagrees with him!?"
There was a silence while they all looked at each other. Finally Rae spoke up. "Yes, Larry. We all think it's a good idea. Or, at least, a necessary one."
He huffed. Shifted his weight. His chin dropped to his chest and he shook his head. "Fine. Fine! If we're doing this, I volunteer."
"You can't do that, Larry," Glen said. "None of us can. We're needed here. Everyone would notice if one of us vanished."
"Shit," he muttered. He fell back into his chair and swiped his beer off the table. "Okay, then—Judge Farris."
"Judge Farris?" Stu said, frowning. "He's…old."
Glen glared at him. "Thanks, East Texas."
He let out an exasperated breath. "I just mean—it won't be an easy trip, either there or back. Especially back, because it'll be winter by then."
"He's old, but he's smart," Larry said. "He's got a good head on his shoulders, and no one over there would suspect him. This old Black guy, a retired judge, turns up and says, I don't know—he got fed up with the loosey goosey bullshit over here and wanted to go somewhere that believes in law and order. That, ya know, crucifies its drug addicts. They'll buy it."
Glen nodded. "It's a good idea. All for Judge Farris?"
They all voted yes.
Susan leaned forward in her chair, her bright eyes intense. "I nominate—or whatever—Dayna Jergens. She was with me…when we met Stu and Fran. She's tough, smart, and knows how to bide her time."
"Seconded," Fran said. "I almost pity that asshole if he comes face to face with Dayna."
They voted yes for her too.
Nick tapped Kai on the shoulder and handed her the note he'd been working on for the last several minutes. She wondered why he hadn't signed it to her instead, but maybe he didn't want Frannie to know until they'd talked it over.
When she read what he wrote her eyes went wide and flicked up to his face. "Nick…"
His good eye was steady, his mouth a thin, firm line. "It's a good idea, Kai. I don't—like it—exactly, but…remember what we said?"
She chewed her lip. "He's more than he seems. But, Nicky—!"
"I know." He combed a hand through her hair and held on for a moment. "You were thinking it, too. Weren't you?"
A brief sigh. A long, tortured silence while they watched each other with knowing eyes, the look saying a million different things. A thousand conversations had in the space of a few silent seconds. Finally she gave a brief, stilted nod. "Yeah. I was."
The exchange had been entirely in sign, and the others watched them with confusion. Even Fran, who could understand the words, didn't know what they were talking about, but she had a sort of cold inkling that she shoved away as impossible.
"Y'all gonna share with the rest of the class?" Stu said.
Kai rubbed her forehead and slumped back in her chair. She cast Nick another glance, lifting a brow, and he nodded. "Nick and I—nominate Tom Cullen."
The room erupted.
She held up both hands. "Okay! Okay! We know. Every single thing you're saying, we know. But—we stand by it. You think they won't suspect Judge Farris? They probably won't even question Tommy."
"We'll give him a cover story," Nick said. "If he repeats it enough he'll remember it. That, and instructions on what to do, how to be careful, when to come home, what to look for. He's developmentally challenged, yes, but he's—a lot more than he seems. There's something special about him." His mouth quirked, almost ruefully. "More than the obvious, I mean."
Rae crossed her arms over her chest. "We all know that, Nick. No one's arguing that. But—we can't send him into that lions' den! He's—innocent!"
"That might be what saves him," Glen said.
Rae gave her a sharp look. "What do you mean?"
"We know he's clever. Flagg, I mean. Clever like a fox or a snake. Judge Farris and Dayna, going in with carefully-crafted cover stories, with agendas, might…be the sort of thing he could discover."
"Then why are we doing it?!" Larry cried.
"Misdirection," Nick said.
"What?"
"Like an illusionist. You make sure your audience is looking over here"—he waved his right hand—"while the trick is happening over here." He waved the left. "If Flagg does discover either Judge Farris or Dayna, or both, they'll distract him. It wouldn't occur to him to look at someone like Tom—or someone like me, for that matter, but I can't go—and he'll be able to get in, get the info we need, and get back out again."
Susan rattled the ice in her glass. "So we're sacrificing Judge Farris and Dayna? Is that what you're saying?"
He rubbed his palms on his thighs and glanced at Kai. "Hopefully not. But—maybe."
"Jesus Christ," Larry muttered, disgusted. "Forget reinventing politics. First night as an official committee and we've reinvented the goddamn CIA!"
"I think they're right," Fran said. She'd sat quietly listening to the entire exchange, mulling the idea over in her her mind, and she saw its wisdom. She didn't like it, but she understood it. "I second Tom Cullen."
Stu eyed her, surprised. "Well. Nominated and seconded. Are we ready to vote? It has to be unanimous, or we start over."
The went around the room casting their votes. Larry was clearly pissed, but he voted aye anyway. They all did.
"Okay." Stu swallowed. "That's it, then. We'll send Judge Farris, Dayna Jergens, and…Tom Cullen west to Las Vegas as spies."
"Fuck us," Larry said, his mouth a grim line, "and the horses we rode in on."
The meeting didn't go much longer after that. They were all tired, and worn out from politicking. Once it broke up Nick and Kai dragged themselves back home. He stopped in the kitchen for a snack, but she went upstairs to their bedroom to wash her face and undress.
When he joined her she was sitting on the bed in a t-shirt, her knees drawn up to her chest and her forehead pressed against them. He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it. Shed his trousers and his undershirt, then crawled in next to her wearing just his boxer briefs. She didn't look up, so he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him in situ.
She shifted just enough to wrap her arms around him and press her forehead to his sternum. He ran a hand through her hair, the other arm loosely around her body. He waited. He knew what she was thinking, because it was all the same things he was. They'd made a case for sending Tom west, but was it the right decision? Or were they sending a sweet, innocent man whom they both loved to his death?
Finally she looked up at him, her brilliant eyes imploring. "Tell me we're doing the right thing," she signed.
He raised his hand to do just that, but hesitated. Finally he just spread his fingers in a shrug and shook his head. "I feel like…we're not doing the wrong thing. But the right one? I just don't know," he said. "I know that if Flagg catches him or he gets hurt, that's on me."
"No!" She gave a sharp shake of her head and sat up further so that she could use both hands. "No, honey, we all voted for it. I nominated him along with you. If you hadn't done it…I would have."
"Why?" he said. "It defies all logic. I don't understand it. But the idea popped into my head and I just couldn't get it out. I knew I had to say something. I knew I had to convince them."
Her head tilted. "What about convincing me?"
"I figured if I was thinking it you were, too."
She sighed and got up to crack the window. The nights were cooler here than one could expect somewhere more humid (or with lower elevation), but up in the converted attic bedroom, the day's heat got trapped. They had the AC on, of course, but the fresh air was nice. Oddly, Boulder smelled very little of the dead.
She stood for a moment listening to the night sounds he couldn't hear: crickets, an owl, some cats either fighting or fucking, and very little else. Often you could hear music or snatches of conversation floating from other houses or the street this time of night, but Mother Abagail's disappearance had sent them all scurrying. Everyone was battened down like frightened mice, and for the first time she thought, maybe, Mother Abagail had made the right choice in leaving.
"We rely on her too much," she signed as she turned.
"Supposedly she has a direct line to God. It seems like if we were going to rely on anyone…" He let the thought trail away with a wry half-smile.
"The committee's purpose is for us to start relying on ourselves. We come from different places, different backgrounds, but we're all…" She waved a hand, searching for the word, and he lifted a brow.
"Damaged?"
She frowned. "Nick—"
"I'm not talking about disabilities, Kai. I mean…marked. Every single one of us has lost people we love, pre-flu. A parent, a sibling, a spouse. We know how to deal with the hard shit, the type of shit that sometimes breaks people. So here we are, unbroken despite everything, and the old lady we all followed here dropped it in our laps and took off. She told me—"
He broke off and his hands fell to his sides. He turned his face away, but before he did she caught the gleam of something in his good eye, and a certain twist to his features she didn't quite recognize.
She crawled back onto the bed and knelt next to him, fingers laced together in her lap. She waited, as he had done, with a level of patience that was unusual for her.
Finally, without looking at her, he started to sign again. "She told me we were to do nothing until she said otherwise. She told me to act as her voice on the committee, and to urge them to be patient. To wait. She said she was waiting for a sign or…I don't know. Direction from above, and once she got it, then we'd know what to do."
She tapped the back of his hand, and at last he faced her again. He absorbed her expression with a stoic one of his own, but his chin dipped to his chest. "I should have told you," he said.
Still she said nothing.
"How—if we're truly supposed to be running this place, being a government or whatever—how are we supposed to do that if we have to wait on God to approve every decision?! I thought the whole point was for us to do this! To not be a theocracy!" His signs were fervent, his forehead creased and face scrunched. The bed shook from the force of his gestures. "It just doesn't make sense! And now she just—leaves?! It's not right, Kai! It's not fair!"
He fell back against the pillows and let out a long breath. Scrubbed a hand over his face. "As if anything about this life is fucking fair."
She took his hands in hers. Kissed the center of each palm as her eyes searched his face. She ran her fingertips along the strong line of his jaw and over the softness of his mouth. Then she smiled, just a little, ruefully, and combed her fingers through his beard before she kissed him. He pulled back, startled, but after a confused moment leaned in for more.
The kiss deepened, lengthened, turned from easy and sweet to hot and breathy. She nibbled his lip. His tongue stroked against hers. He reached for her, to pull her into his lap, but she stopped him.
"It wasn't fair of her to put that on you, especially knowing how you feel about God, and how you felt about being on the committee."
"I should have told you what she said."
"Maybe. But it wouldn't have changed anything. I still would've voted the way I did. What are we supposed to do, Nicky? Just be in limbo here until she gets back? What if she dies out there? How much does her God protect her from the weather? Or falls?"
His mouth quirked. He took a moment to pull off his eyepatch and set it on the nightstand. "I never thought God was that direct. Not anymore."
She chewed on her thumbnail. "Have you ever read the Bible?" At his look she held up a hand. "Okay, okay. I'm just asking because—there's this scene in Genesis where God is walking in the Garden with Adam and Eve. Just like…some guy. There. Walking around. It's such a…homely image. So different from the God who tortures Job or allows His son to be crucified."
She smoothed the sheet over her knee, her brows drawn together over stormy eyes. "I just mean…maybe God walks with Mother Abagail in a way He hasn't in a long, long time. Or…maybe she's His new…test. Abraham on the mountain commanded to murder his son but he's stopped at the last minute. Job suffering everything a man can suffer and still not denouncing his faith."
Nick's gaze was fixed on some point in the near distance as he thought that over, but eventually it flicked to her again. "Who's being tested here? Us? Or her?"
"I don't know," she said. Their eyes met. Held. "But I guess if it's us…then we just failed."
"Or maybe it's all bullshit," he said with a sardonic twist to his lips.
"Maybe," she said. "But we had the dreams. About her. About him." She smiled a little. "About each other. And now here we are. So maybe it is all bullshit. But I think that kind of attitude is what…leads to the problems that got us into this mess."
His nose scrunched. "What do you mean?"
"It's not that I think religion is a necessary component to a functioning society, but I do think a sense of…consequence is. Look at the state of the world before all this happened. Within like what, fifteen years? They were saying the planet would be irrevocably altered by climate change. We'd been at war in Afghanistan since 2001. The greatest wealth inequality gap in history. We elected…ugh, I don't even wanna touch that one. And the message he ran on was racism and misogyny and America First isolationist bullshit. And most of that is just here!
"Viruses like Captain Trips were expressly forbidden in the Geneva Convention, and yet. And I seriously doubt we were the only ones playing with things we had no business touching." She lifted her arms to indicate the world around them. "We'd lost sight of the consequences. We thought we could just go along doing whatever the fuck we wanted and nothing truly bad would happen—at least not to the rich assholes calling all the shots."
He lifted a brow. "Captain Trips, the great equalizer."
"To a point, yeah. Because you know they all fled to their secret bunkers and private islands and shit, and the sense I'm getting is that it was useless. We don't know for sure, of course, and it'll be a while before we do—but a disease with such a high communicability and fatality rate isn't going to be deterred by a private island."
She drew in a long, shaky breath and let it out slowly. "All I'm saying is we need to be aware that our actions have consequences. Maybe they're…Biblical, or maybe they're just…we did a really shitty thing and now people are mad. I don't know. But while I don't really believe in the…God part of all of this, I do believe in…something. There's a reason we're here, and if the God part makes people feel accountable, then fine. There it is."
He gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "So what do you think the consequences for going against Mother Abagail's word will be?"
"People are going to die. Maybe Judge Farris. Maybe Dayna." She pulled her knees up again with a troubled sigh. "Maybe Tommy."
"Maybe us."
She cut him a look, eyes wary. "Maybe. I hope not. But maybe. That dream—"
"Babe. I think Glen was right about the dream. Bullshit meant to get under your skin." This time when he tugged her to him she went, curling up against his side tucked under his arm. "I don't know why, but I think sending Tom is…what we should be doing." He scowled. "How can the right thing feel so goddamn wrong?"
"I don't know. Maybe it's wrong for us. Even wrong for Tom. But somehow right for…all of this. For…some ineffable plan."
He looked down at her and lifted her chin for a kiss. They lingered over it, and their thoughts were similar: if only they could stop worrying about ineffable plans and bigger pictures and divine consequences and just concentrate on this. Each other. The warm scent of skin and the soft, sweet feel of lips meeting.
After, she thought. She pulled away long enough to smile at him, then brought him back for more. After they figured out Flagg. After they were all safe. They could build something here, in Boulder. Or anywhere. And they had their entire lives to do it.
Chapter 24: Nadine
Summary:
Nick and Kai see Tom off, then Kai has an odd encounter with Nadine Cross
Notes:
Okay, so you probably got a new chapter notification and you're like, "Um, hello? this isn't a new chapter!" Okay, you're right. It's not! But somehow I skipped a chapter? So if you go back to chapter 21, which is now called "New in Town," you will, in fact, have a whole new chapter! Just not...here at the end.
Enjoy, and drop me a line why dontcha. Direct action creates direct results.
Chapter Text
i see the bad moon a-rising
i see trouble on the way
i see earthquakes and lightning
i see bad times today
Creedence Clearwater Revival, "Bad Moon Rising"
Aug. 17-25
Each departure was staggered from the one before it. Larry went to Judge Farris first, and he accepted immediately. He seemed to know what he was getting into, and that he might not make it back, but Larry reported that he was ready. Eager, even. He'd been looking for a way to contribute more, and he'd already collected an impressive law library and rounded up all the legal-ish types from the general Boulder Free Zone population.
Susan and Fran spoke to Dayna, and she was just as ready as Judge Farris had been. She slipped off sometime in the night a few days later, and no one missed her at first. She tended to keep to herself, and since Mother Abagail's departure, Dayna and Judge Farris weren't the first to quietly take their leave.
It was a gloomy gray morning when Nick and Kai drove Tom west, about twenty miles or so outside of town, and Kai pulled over to the side of the road. They all climbed out, Nick and Kai quiet and reflective, Tom bubbling over with excitement about his "mission."
"Go west, laws yes!" he said. "Toward where the sun goes down, across the mountains, into the desert. Travel at night, sleep in the day."
"That's right, Tommy," Kai said. She struggled to find a smile. "You've got it."
"You remember when to head back?" Nick said.
He nodded. "When the moon's big and full! Not skinny little fingernail or half-size moon. Big fat round full moon!"
"Yep," Nick said. "You just watch the moon and you'll know."
Nick pulled Tom's bike off the rack and set it in the road. Gave the horn a toot that never failed to make Tom laugh. He honked it a few times and the sound echoed around the quiet canyon.
"Do you remember about the water tablets we gave you?" Kai said.
"Yep! If I can't find any water in bottles, like in a grocery store or a gas station, and I gotta get water out of a river or a crick, add a tablet before I drink it. It's safe to drink when it turns clear. M-O-O-N, that spells safe to drink!"
"Yeah it does," Nick said. He ruffled Tom's hair, then tossed him the hat he'd left in the backseat. "Don't forget Rae's hat! She gave you that for luck."
"Laws-a-mercy, I almost did!" He snatched it out of the air and set it on his head. It had always been a little big on Rae, but that still didn't account for how it fit Tom, who was about three times her size.
"It's like that movie," Nick had said when Kai remarked on it. "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants."
"You've seen Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants?"
He'd just shrugged. "I've seen everything America Ferrera's ever been in, and yes that includes every season of Ugly Betty."
Now they stood watching as Tom hopped on his bike and rode in figure eights up and down the highway. He came back and braked in front of them. He wore a huge grin, and as he set the kickstand and hopped off he checked the basket for his most important things.
"Got my garage, my fire engine, and my jar of peanut butter," he said. "Everything else is in my backpack. I even got a sleepin' bag!"
"You should have everything you need," Nick said. "You'll have to get food and water along the way. Make sure you have plenty of water when you start to get into the desert."
"Stu tol' me all that. I remember!"
"We're just checking, Tommy. We're so proud of you for doing this, but we're worried too," Kai said.
He smiled at her and patted her shoulder with a big hand. "It's okay, Kai. Tom remembers everything you and Nick and Larry and Stu said." His smile faded, and he cast a forlorn look between them. "I wish my best friends Kai and Nick could go." He signed their names as he spoke them, and Kai had to fight back tears.
"You understand why we can't, don't you?" she said, her voice thick.
"I do. It's a one-man mission, and I'm the man!"
"That's right," Nick said. "You're the man. But, hey. You'll be watching the moon, right?"
"Yup, every night!"
"Good. We will too. You're watching the moon, we're watching the moon." Kai's voice broke on the words, but she cleared her throat and managed to finish translating. She noticed, too, that Nick's hands trembled as he formed the signs.
His face lit up. "Same moon!" He wrapped his arms around Nick in a giant bear hug and lifted him off his feet. "Tom, Nick, and Kai, lookin' at the same moon!"
He waved Kai over and pulled her into the hug too, and they were all three squished together like back in that barn in Kansas. Or had it been Oklahoma? It was impossible to remember, now. She grabbed a handful of Nick's shirt and held on tight, and she didn't let go even when Tom put them down.
"Go on now, Tommy," she said. "You need to get a good start before it gets much later."
"Y'all'll be here when Tom gets back, won't you? Nick and Kai, waitin' for Tom?"
"Of course we will," Nick said. "By then Susan will have the power back on, and Kai can make us some bread and you'll tell us everything you saw on your trip."
His shoulders lifted and fell as he took a breath and let it out. "Okay. I'm goin'. Take care of the gals for me! Bye, Nick. Bye, Kai! I'll see you soon."
"Bye, Tommy," she said. "We'll see you soon."
He hopped on his bike and started to peddle. Kai wrapped an arm around Nick's waist and he stroked a hand over her hair. They stood together watching until he was barely a speck in the distance. He honked the horn a few more times, but eventually even that faded into the gray.
"Breathe," Nick said to her. He pressed a kiss to her temple.
"I don't know if I can." Tears flowed down her cheeks, and she wiped them away with an angry shove of her hand. "I feel like we'll never see him again."
"Don't say that. He'll come home. I have a feeling."
She looked up at him, brow furrowed and mouth soft. "I didn't say he wouldn't come home, Nicky. I said we'd never see him again."
He took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. Her nose. Each damp cheek. "Is this about the dream?"
She gave a brief nod. "Sort of. I guess." She sniffled and let her forehead fall to his shoulder for a moment. "I'm sorry. I'm just…worried."
"I know. I am too. Don't apologize." He pulled her against him and held her. Neither of them moved for a long time, despite the drizzle that started to fall around them.
"Come on," he finally said. He laced his fingers through hers and they started back toward the car. "Let's go home. You can help Rae and me move the girls from Tom's to our place."
"Nick…" She stopped him with a gentle tug at his hand. He turned, a question brightening his good eye, and for several long heartbeats she just stood studying him. Eventually she shook her head. "Nothing, never mind. Let's go."
He gave her a puzzled look, but he nodded and opened the passenger door for her. She glanced back over her shoulder, fighting a sudden chill, and a crow cawed at her from a power line. She glared at it. It made a noise almost like laughter, but then a roll of thunder cracked the gray sky and it flew off with an angry cry.
She refused to see omens in birds and thunderstorms. She was jumping at shadows, letting Flagg get under her skin. He was full of shit, and the sooner she put that fucking dream out of her mind the better off she'd be.
She smiled up at Nick, kissed him, and climbed into the car. Tom was gone, but they were still here, and they had a Free Zone to run.
Aug. 28-Sept. 4
The entire community came out for the Great Reawakening (as Glen had sarcastically dubbed it) dressed in their best. There was a countdown, and when the lights flickered on cheers abounded. Mother Abagail was still gone, but having the power back made it feel like maybe, just maybe, they could get on with things anyway.
Nick and Kai were there along with everyone else, cheering and laughing and toasting, but neither of them had their hearts entirely in it. They both worried about Tom. They both felt lost in a nebulous haze of dread that was so ill-defined that neither of them dared try to articulate it to the other.
It seemed like everyone in the Free Zone (or at least on the committee) was holding their breath. Waiting. Would Mother Abagail come back? What if she didn't? What would they do? The day-to-day running of the Zone was fine; she'd never really been a part of that anyway: but what about Flagg? He loomed like a specter, a dark cloud beyond the mountains that no one forgot about…even when sometimes it felt like they had.
The water came back, and for many of them that was an even bigger relief than the power. They had showers again, dishwashers, washing machines. Even just the ability to flip the tap and get a glass of water was something so many people had taken for granted, and now they had it again. Everyone used some form of water filtration, just in case, but that was a slight delay, not an obstacle.
All of this, and the rhythm of daily life—the welcome sessions, which slowed a bit as summer waned, the pantry, the cooking and sign language lessons they taught—attempted to lull them into a sense of normalcy, but mostly they refused to be lulled.
Kai, for her part, was too wired. Too tuned in to the memory of that damn dream. She did think Nick and Rae and Glen and everyone else were probably right about it, but doubt nagged at her, a tiny voice in the back of her mind that called her Eden and offered a fathomless stone with winking fire caught inside.
This was the mood she found herself in when she got home that afternoon in early September. It was still warm, and would be for another few weeks, but at night the smell of autumn was in the air. How the hell had Mother Abagail been gone for so long? Wasn't Jesus away for forty days and forty nights, or was that just Noah?
She parked in the driveway and got out, and halfway to the porch she froze. A figure stood there, partly in shadow, and before it stepped into the sunlight she thought—but no. It was Nadine Cross, one of the teachers she knew from the school. Kai and Nick had been teaching sign language to the kiddos three times a week, and they'd all taken to it like ducks to water. Nick could now carry on entire (short) conversations with most of the children in the Free Zone.
Kai's mind had wandered, but she forcibly dragged it back to the present and put on a smile. "Nadine? Is that you?"
The woman smiled back, and Kai took a moment to marvel at how classically beautiful she was. As tall as Kai, with deep dark eyes and that remarkable hair, down nearly to her waist and silky black except where the gray and silver threaded through it. Her features looked like they were carved from ivory, a perfect cameo.
"Kai!" she called now. She raised one white arm and waved, almost regally. "I'm so glad you're home!" she said.
Kai climbed the front steps and Nadine moved to meet her. Her tone was friendly enough, and her expression open, but there was something in her deep ochre eyes that gave Kai pause. There almost always was. She felt, somehow, that there were two people lurking in there: the Nadine who clearly loved kids, loved teaching, loved the Free Zone…and then the Nadine who would do such inexplicable things as move in with Harold Lauder.
Well. Maybe he was packing a lot of inches under those jeans—or his favorite book was the Kama Sutra. Or maybe it wasn't about sex at all, Kai was completely wrong about him, and she needed to learn a lesson about being so fucking judgy.
"Nadine," she said now. "This's a surprise. Is something up at school?"
"Hm? Oh, no! Nothing like that. I just was hoping to…get a few eggs! You have the chickens, right?" Her smile had a brittle quality now, but maybe she just didn't like chickens. Kojak surely hated them, ever since Miss Ruby had pecked his tail.
"We do," Kai said. "Come on through. How many do you need? Are you making something special?" Her eyes lit up. "Are you baking something!?"
Nadine grinned, a genuine one, it felt like. "Honestly if that's what I wanted I'd just skip the middleman and ask you to make it for me. No, I thought I'd try a quiche. SPAM and asparagus, maybe? With parmesan? My next stop is Rae's, for milk."
Rae had a small herd of goats she'd rescued from a farm outside of town, and now that she'd fattened them up again (they had been running low on grass, but luckily had had a nice big paddock to graze, with a secure fence, before Rae found them), they were giving milk and Rae had even started to make cheese. The latter wasn't great, but it was slowly getting better, and the former was a relief to anyone with a baby.
Kai opened the door and gestured for Nadine to follow her inside. "My mom was from Hawaii, and she loved SPAM. I ate it so much growing up, but not since then—until now. But it's surprisingly versatile."
Nadine tucked a lock of that remarkable hair behind her ear and lingered in the living room. "You have a beautiful home here, Kai. I hear you and Nick were part of the first group to get here? With—ah…"
"Mother Abagail. It's alright; you can say her name." A cloud passed through her eyes. "She's not dead," she said, quietly.
"No, no! Of course she isn't. I just—don't want to upset anyone. Especially all of you who knew—know—her so well." She patted Kai's arm, and her mouth moved in a moue of sympathy. "I'm sure she'll be back soon. The nights are starting to get chilly; an old lady can't be out in that much longer."
Kai swallowed around a sudden tightness in her throat, and her gaze flicked to Nadine's long white fingers on her forearm. Their skin tones were a remarkable contrast, even though Kai was merely tan and not truly brown. She let her eyes linger a moment before moving back to Nadine's face, and the other woman laughed, awkwardly, and dropped her hand.
"Of course, she isn't an ordinary old lady. We all know that."
"We do," Kai said. "Thankfully." She turned toward the kitchen. "This way."
A pallet of eggs sat on the counter, and Kai paused a moment. "Do you—have anything to carry them in?"
Two spots of color appeared on Nadine's high cheekbones. "Um. Well. I was hoping you might have something."
Kai said nothing, merely turned to dig through a cabinet. She emerged with an egg carton. "How many do you need? Six? A dozen?" She could hear Nadine's footfalls behind her, a sharp click of her boots, but Kai didn't turn.
"Ummm…can you spare a dozen? I don't want to put you out." She paused. "Shouldn't those be in the fridge?"
She carefully placed each egg in its little compartment and shut the carton. "No. Eggs are versatile and can be stored at room temperature. Just if you do put them in the fridge, they have to be kept there after that. We get them from the nests, clean them, and then store them on the counter. Saves fridge space, and if the power went out again—" She broke off with a brief shrug and finally turned. She offered the carton with a brittle smile. "Twelve eggs, ready to go."
Nadine reached for them, all effusive thanks, and quickly turned to go. Kai knew she should offer her tea or coffee, ask her to stay for a chat, but she didn't want to. And she sensed Nadine didn't want that, either. Instead she took her eggs and made a beeline for the front door. She paused a moment, her eyes scanning the room again, and Kai leaned against the dining room doorway with her arms crossed over her middle as she watched her.
"Is Harold a fan of quiche, then?" she said.
Nadine jumped like Kai had shouted and spun on her heel. Her face was even paler, if that were possible, and the skin across her strong bones looked tight. "Harold? What does—? Oh." She let out a brittle laugh. "Of course. It's one of his favorites. His idea, actually! I'd forgotten you had chickens." Her eyes narrowed. "They were Tom's weren't they? My goodness, what happened to him?"
Kai's mouth lifted at one corner. Touché. "We aren't sure," she said. "He was talking about going to look for Mother Abagail, and then one day he was just gone."
"That's so sad, Kai. What a terrible loss for you and Nick."
Her head tilted. "He's not dead, either," she said, her tone mild.
"I know," Nadine replied. "But a loss for the community. And it is awfully dangerous out there, what with all the wolves and…coyotes."
"Coyotes." Her eyes narrowed a fraction. "Yes."
Nadine took a few steps closer. The light hit her face strangely, exaggerated and sharped the angles. There was no softness there now, none of the woman Kai saw at school or with the children. "Did you have any trouble on the road with coyotes? They can be so bold."
"They can be," she said. She fought the urge to straighten as Nadine stalked closer. "Before the flu you sometimes heard stories of coyotes walking straight up onto people's porches, or into their homes." Her head tilted thoughtfully. "At least a coyote, while dog-shaped, has too much wildness in it to ever be mistaken for a friend."
She froze. A quick, confused smile passed over her features, and she seemed to shake herself. "Luckily that happens so rarely."
"Luckily," Kai said. She pushed herself off the doorjamb and met her in the middle. "You know, Nadine, if you ever need someone to talk to—someone besides a seventeen-year-old boy, I mean—I'm always here. Or Nick. He's a great listener."
Her mouth quirked almost cruelly. "How ironic." The moment it was out of her mouth her eyes clouded and she looked away, as if ashamed. Or confused. "I'm sorry. That was—rude."
"Somewhat. But I think we both know there are a lot of ways to listen, and only a small handful of them involve your ears." She touched her arm, briefly. "Find the quiet in the noise, Nadine. That's where peace lies."
Kai wasn't even entirely sure what she was saying, so when Nadine turned to her with confusion carved into her cameo face, she could only offer a rueful smile. "Or so I've heard," she said.
They stood staring at one another, the few inches between them seeming like a gulf, a canyon, but as the seconds ticked by she thought she saw something in Nadine's expression, something deep in those dark eyes (not a fire trapped in there, not like the stone) that caused Kai to lean toward her a little, a sort of desperate magnetism that wasn't the least bit sexual, but was still a command she couldn't ignore.
The mask cracked, and Kai got a glimpse of a different woman altogether, someone lost and frightened and so, so tired. Her heart cramped with sudden, dizzying compassion, but she had no idea what to do with it. Speak? Stay quiet? Kai's mouth fell open and her brow scrunched and she thought maybe Nadine might reach for her, a desperate woman grabbing at a lifeline blindly thrown, when the door behind her opened and the moment was broken.
Nadine spun, brittle and sharp as fine china, and Nick blinked at them in confusion. "Nick!" Nadine said. "How lovely. Always nice to see you." She signed a bit, the eggs tucked under her arm, and Nick offered a wary nod.
His glance darted over Nadine's shoulder to Kai, but at her look he stilled his expression and smiled at Nadine. He pointed at the eggs with a questioning lift of his brows.
"Kai was nice enough to share your bounty with me. I got so caught up in our conversation I forgot I need to get to Rae's. Quiche needs milk!" She scooted around Nick and offered Kai a short wave. "Thanks so much, Kai! I'll let you know how it turns out. You two have a great evening. Bye now!"
And then she was gone, down the steps and along the walk and onto her little scooter that leaned on its kickstand at the curb. She stashed the eggs in the basket and clipped on her helmet, and with another wave drove away. Nick and Kai stood side by side watching her go, and once she was out of sight Nick cast her a curious glance, but she gestured for him to follow her back inside.
She closed the door, and for the first time since arriving in Boulder, locked it. When she turned back to Nick his brows were lifted in surprise, but she just gave a restless, confused shrug and brushed past him toward the kitchen. He followed, knowing she would tell him what had her so worried in her own time, and leaned against the island while she put water on for tea. She placed a pair of muffins on a plate and handed it to him, and he wandered off to the table to wait for her there.
A few minutes later she set a mug and a jar of honey in front of him, and dropped down into the chair across the small breakfast table from him. He eyed her as he doctored his tea and split the muffin open, and after adding a generous dollop of honey to her own cup, she set down the spoon and her hands stilled.
He waited. She said nothing.
He ate a few bites of muffin. Blew on his tea to cool it and took a tentative sip.
"I don't know what the fuck just happened."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
She drummed her fingers against the table and then stood up to pace. He drank a bit more tea before he set it aside and went to her. Clasped her upper arms in his hands and studied her face: stormy eyes, furrowed brow, tense mouth. He kissed her forehead and tugged her against him, his palms stroking her back.
Her arms went around him and her forehead fell to rest on his shoulder. Finally she pulled away and scraped her fingers back through her hair. "There's just something about her, Nicky."
"She's great with the kids."
"I know!" she said. "I know, and that's part of what confuses me so much. It's like she's two different people! And then I wonder if maybe I'm making shit up because she's apparently with Harold and I don't fucking get it and I don't trust him. So maybe I'm projecting all that onto her, which isn't fair at all. But surely if they're actually together then she must either…see his skeeviness and not care, or I'm entirely imagining it and she sees something I don't."
"You're not imagining it," he said. He touched her hand to stop her before she could say anything. "He came into the pantry today. Rae's scouts had just come back with a huge haul and we were unloading it all, and he offered to help. Sure, fine, we can always use extra hands, and he's a really hard worker. Everyone says it, and they're right. The work he's done with the burial committee…"
He trailed off. A series of emotions passed over his expressive face. His good eye drifted to a point above her head and stayed there for a long time before he focused on her again. "It's not him," he said.
"It's a mask he puts on and takes off."
He nodded. "The smile, the camaraderie, the diligence. There's some truth there, but…I think it gets less true every day."
She sagged against the counter and ran a hand over her face. "Nadine's the same, I think. She does love those kids. She loves Joe. But something has its teeth in her and isn't letting go."
His mouth quirked. "Maybe Harold—" She batted his hand down before he could finish the thought, and he grinned. "What? Not the mental image you were looking for?"
Struggling not to laugh, she shook her head and glared at him. "You're not as cute as you think you are."
"You always say that and it's never true." He wrapped his arms around her and she tilted her head back for a kiss. It lingered and stretched, and when they parted they were both smiling. Another soft kiss to her forehead and her to his jaw before they got serious again.
"Do you want to tell me what happened?" he said.
She hesitated, her teeth working her lower lip, but then her hands started to move and she told him everything, from the moment she pulled into the driveway till he opened the door and interrupted them. He listened attentively, arms crossed over his chest and brows drawn together, and when she finished he shifted his weight and let his eye roam the kitchen again.
His fingers flicked in a sort of hm gesture. Her head tilted in acknowledgement.
"Before she walked into the light, I thought…I don't know. I was imagining things."
"No," he said with a soft frown, "tell me."
"Ahh…I don't know. Eye shine. Like animals? Like…coyotes." She shivered and rubbed her arms. "That sounds crazy."
"It doesn't." His brows quirked. "Funny she should mention coyotes in particular."
"It is, isn't it?" she said.
"That at the end, just before I got here…."
"Like I said: two different people."
"Do you think she really wanted eggs?"
She sighed. Slumped back against the counter again. "I don't know. Maybe? Probably not."
He gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "So why then? Looking for something?"
"Like, snooping?"
He lifted his hands in a shrug. "Maybe? But…also maybe not. Maybe she just wanted someone to talk to. She seems…lonely."
She eyed him a moment. "Does she now?"
"Don't look at me like that," he said with a glower. "I'm deaf; what do I have to do all day besides watch people? She looks at Larry like he's an oasis in the desert, and I've never seen her look at Harold at all. She watches Joe like she's afraid he might either shatter or explode, and then sometimes she seems haunted. I mean that literally, like she's some Victorian waif surrounded by ghosts nattering in her ear." He paused. "A very tall Victorian waif. Waifs are usually short, aren't they?"
"Small stature is generally considered a prerequisite for the condition."
"That's what I thought," he said, satisfied. "Or maybe it's just the hair that gives that impression."
Her lips twisted. "You think her hair's going gray from ghosts?"
"I don't believe in ghosts, generally. But as we've discussed, I don't believe in a lot of things that've turned out to be true."
She lifted a brow. "I don't believe that a woman who looks like Nadine Cross would be with a boy like Harold Lauder. And I don't just mean physically. She has a sophistication about her that seems so at odds with someone as young as he is."
"The Victorian waif thing again."
"I suppose," she said, rolling her eyes to keep from smiling. "But, like I said, maybe I'm wrong about him and there's something there I can't see."
"Or maybe she's doing as she was told."
She froze. Her eyes widened as her mind raced and his meaning became clearer. "Nick, no, that's—" She shifted from one foot to the other. "That's not—I'm not saying she's—" She shook her head slowly, but he could tell the idea was taking root. "Why? What would be the point?!"
He shrugged. "We both see how they're conflicted. Harold seems to genuinely like some of the people here, and, like I said, he works hard. Good work. And we know Nadine loves the kids, especially Joe. They have attachments here. Friends. People they care about. They're both…on the edge." He held his hand up, sideways, and tilted it back forth. "Could tip either way."
"Shit," she said. She closed her eyes as though not being able to see the words she signed would make them untrue. "Together they have each other. They tip the way he wants them to."
He touched her wrist so she'd look at him again. "It's just a theory."
"But a solid one." Her mouth was a grim line. "So what do we do?"
He frowned. Rested one hand on his hip and twisted the other one through his hair. His fine features were scrunched and pensive.
Finally he threw both palms in the air. "No idea. What can we do? You can't just—accuse people of shit. And maybe there are things we aren't seeing. Harold's smart. Frannie said he's a writer, or was, before. Maybe she's attracted to young, sensitive broody types."
She nodded, eager for another possibility. "Like a Percy Shelley type."
"Yeah, sorta." He paused, thoughtfully. "We could ask Joe."
"Nick—"
"I know," he said before she could finish the thought. "I know he's non-verbal, but I've been working with him, and he seems to enjoy signing. He's picked it up fast. He's not deaf, and physically he can talk—at least I think so—but signing seems to've unlocked him a little bit. I've taught Larry and Lucy more, too, and Larry said it's helped."
"Why didn't you tell me?" she said. She wasn't annoyed, just curious, but his chin dropped to his chest anyway.
"He…reminds me of me. Some. I mean, I am deaf and I—didn't know how to communicate—but…the anger and the fear. That was me. Rudy saw something worth…saving, I guess. Worth helping. I see that in Joe. It's…not easy being trapped in your own head. I couldn't physically speak, and he can't mentally, but at the end of the day, it's still being trapped."
She touched his hand, then his cheek, and he lifted his head to look at her. "That's…really beautiful, Nicky. That you recognize that in him, and you want to do for him what Rudy did for you. I know he'd be proud. Hell, I'm proud." Her arms went around his neck and she kissed him. "That's my man," she said with a smirk.
"I was going to tell you," he said. "I just thought we needed a little more time."
"It's okay." She kissed him again, longer and slower. "You're a wonderful human and I love you."
He rolled his eye back in his head in a kind of don't I know it gesture, and she poked him. "Hey!" he said, affronted.
"No time for ego trips now, babe. Save it for later. Nadine was also asking about Tom."
That got his attention, and all traces of levity left his face. "What did you tell her?"
"Our cover. That he went after Mother Abagail."
"She buy it?"
"I don't know. She wasn't that keen on it, so maybe she was just being nosy. Or maybe she was genuinely wondering."
"Maybe," he said, exaggerating the movements to show his doubt.
She chewed her thumbnail. "Can we talk to Joe about this without traumatizing him further?"
"I think so. If we're careful. Let me take the lead."
"Yeah, of course." She blew out a long breath and dropped to rest her elbows on the counter. She buried her face in her hands a moment before dragging her fingers down her cheeks. "I want us to be wrong."
"I do too," he said when she finally looked at him. "But you've had a bad feeling about Harold from the beginning, and your instincts are usually good."
She straightened and poked him again, this time in the shoulder. "This one was your idea, buddy."
"Inspired by you."
She gave an annoyed huff, almost a growl. He couldn't hear it, but he recognized the look. "Next time maybe I can just inspire a painting or a wet dream."
"You've inspired plenty of dreams, babe. And I'm a terrible painter." He put an arm around her and kissed her temple. "Come on, let's go over to Larry's. Lucy probably won't be home yet, but he and Joe should be there. We can get his take on Nadine, too."
"Let's stop at Rae's on the way and see if Nadine got her milk."
"That's my Hawaiian-Creole Nancy Drew," he said with a grin. "Let me go change. Lots of heavy lifting today. Five minutes." He kissed her and bounded toward the stairs.
She watched him go, her expression rueful. Maybe they should just leave it alone. Harold and Nadine would slip out one night, head for Vegas, and they'd just be another pair of deserters. Except these two had personal connections to the committee, and they were so involved in the community that their disappearance would be actively noticed.
They would be missed.
She wondered if they realized that. She wondered if it would make a difference if they did.
minaharkersjournal on Chapter 3 Mon 08 Feb 2021 03:49PM UTC
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copperleaves on Chapter 3 Mon 08 Feb 2021 06:19PM UTC
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Resident_Dormouse on Chapter 4 Mon 28 Feb 2022 08:36PM UTC
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copperleaves on Chapter 4 Thu 24 Mar 2022 07:57PM UTC
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Resident_Dormouse on Chapter 5 Mon 28 Feb 2022 09:16PM UTC
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ash (Guest) on Chapter 13 Sat 06 Mar 2021 03:37PM UTC
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copperleaves on Chapter 13 Sat 06 Mar 2021 05:11PM UTC
Last Edited Sat 06 Mar 2021 06:07PM UTC
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Ash (Guest) on Chapter 18 Sun 28 Mar 2021 07:39PM UTC
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copperleaves on Chapter 18 Sun 28 Mar 2021 08:02PM UTC
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ash (Guest) on Chapter 18 Sun 28 Mar 2021 08:12PM UTC
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ash (Guest) on Chapter 22 Mon 26 Apr 2021 03:20AM UTC
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copperleaves on Chapter 22 Mon 26 Apr 2021 03:22AM UTC
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Anths_Girl on Chapter 23 Thu 13 May 2021 03:02PM UTC
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copperleaves on Chapter 23 Thu 13 May 2021 04:53PM UTC
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Anths_Girl on Chapter 23 Thu 20 May 2021 08:17AM UTC
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Anths_Girl on Chapter 24 Sat 05 Jun 2021 07:49PM UTC
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ShotOfPatron on Chapter 24 Wed 15 Sep 2021 04:39PM UTC
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copperleaves on Chapter 24 Sun 03 Oct 2021 08:04AM UTC
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Saki_Hyuga on Chapter 21 Fri 22 Oct 2021 02:38PM UTC
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