Chapter 19
Nineteen
I pull my legs to my chest, wrapping my arms around them and resting my chin on top. Looking out at Devil’s Lake, I try engraving into my mind every single detail. Ever since the decision was made to leave, I’ve spent at least an hour a day watching as the ice melts away from the water’s surface. Now that winter has finally given away to spring, the lake is filled with fresh, cold water. The breeze makes tiny waves that catch the sun’s rays, reflecting them off the surface like millions of sparkling diamonds. I curl my bare toes in the heated sand and savor the grittiness against my skin. This little piece of heaven in the midst of hell has been my refuge for my entire life, and tomorrow morning, I’ll wish it farewell.
“I know you’re worried,” says a gentle voice from beside me.
The sound of it is as familiar as this shoreline. In fact, I’ve known both for as long as I can remember. I take in the sight of my cousin sitting next to me. Her posture matches mine with her long tawny legs pulled to her chest. Tight, spiral curls have escaped the bun on the top of her head and frame her heart-shaped face. A mirror image of my light gray eyes stares back at me as we give each other half-hearted smiles.
With a lazy shrug, I say, “A little worried, but we always manage.”
It’s a lie. I’m more than a little concerned but confessing to it will do nothing to alleviate the feeling. We’re going to leave behind the safety and certainty that our home offers in exchange for a shot in the dark chance to cross the border. Every careful choice we’ve made, every battle we’ve survived has led us to the ultimate suicide mission.
She scoots closer to me. “If it’s any consolation, it’s good we aren’t going to be alone.”
“I know,” I say, as I rest my head on her shoulder. “If I keep telling myself it’s okay, I might start to believe it.”
She places her head on top of mine. “I’m sorry for the way I went about things. I never should have kept the purpose of the call from you. It was selfish to let my fear of hearing no get the better of me.”
River has apologized countless times since the day of the call, and I’ve forgiven her every time. I understand that she felt it was the right thing to do… and that love sometimes makes people do stupid things.
“I forgive you,” I say.
“We’re going to be all right, Quinn. We’re going to do this together.”
Not wanting to argue, I let my disagreement flow out of me with a sigh. We’ve agreed on the decision to leave, and the only thing left to do is be prepared for what lies ahead.
Footsteps approach and we reach for our guns, scrambling to our feet .
“It’s only me,” Noah says, walking out of the woods.
The tension eases, and River and I sink back to the sand. Noah sits on the other side of her, sandwiching her between us. From the corner of my eye, I watch as her hand intertwines with his like magnets drawn together.
I feel a tinge of jealousy at their connection. They’re so in tune with one another that they move like a finely choreographed dance. Their parts have been practiced over and over again until it has become as natural as breathing. River knows all his little idiosyncrasies, and Noah has learned the telltale signs of her body language. They have only known each other for a little less than three months, but it could easily be mistaken for a lifetime.
Breaking the silence, River asks, “Were you able to use my dad’s old map program to print some more detailed city maps?”
I briefly lock eyes with Noah as he says, “Everything is ready to go.”
“Are the others done bringing the supplies from the bunker?” I ask.
“Yeah, they’re ready to load the truck whenever you are.”
I stand, brush the sand off my clothes. For a final time, I look out over the lake which has been a staple place in my life. Maybe someday I will find myself on its shores again. But for now, it’s time to say goodbye.
The normally empty living room has a pile of boxes stacked in the center. They contain everything needed for our trek from Devil’s Lake to Caprielle—the city just beyond the Oscuros border. We expect the fifteen-hundred-mile journey to be grueling, but we’re working to minimize as many foreseeable problems as we can. I sidestep the supplies and enter the study to join Aiden, Wes, and Ryland. The three men stand around the desk shuffling through printed maps. They raise their heads, and each gives me a quick greeting as I squeeze into the circle.
“I wish there was another way to do this. Passing through four major cities doesn’t sit well with me,” Wes says. His black hair has grown shaggy over the last couple of months, and his bangs hang over his blue eyes as he looks down at a map. He traces our route with his fingertip while I study the tattoos on his arms.
It wasn’t long ago that I realized he was hiding the ink under the sleeves of his always-present hoodie. Most of the markings are a collection of random drawings that work together to suit him perfectly. But one tattoo on his outer forearm stands out from the rest—the compass that looks just like the one on Ryland’s arm. Each of the boys have the symbol somewhere on their body as a representation of the adventures they shared.
With a grunt, Aiden stands straight and crosses his arms over his chest. All of the boys have gained some weight and muscle since they first arrived, but it’s the most noticeable on him. His light skin no longer holds a gray undertone and the blue of his eyes sparkle. He pulls on the short strands of blond hair next to his ear while he thinks out loud. “If we try to bypass the bigger cities, we’ll just be adding time. At this point, the best we can hope for is to make it through Hudson with the SUV and walk two hundred miles on foot. If we’re lucky, we can make it to Caprielle in a week and a half.”
Ryland rubs his jaw. “Aiden’s right, hopefully, we can make it through the major cities with a vehicle.” He looks at me and asks, “Do you have any thoughts on this?”
“I don’t like the idea of traveling through so many big cities either, but the longer we’ re on foot, the more likely we are to encounter Zs. We really don’t have a better option.”
Ten weeks and two days—that’s how long it’s been since the night I first laid eyes on Ryland Shaw, and everything has changed. Well, almost everything. Two have remained the same. He’s still painfully handsome. So much so, that on a daily basis, I catch myself staring at him. The second thing that hasn’t changed is that I’m always working to fortify the wall I’ve built between us. It’s nearly impossible. I literally have to lecture myself on all the reasons to rein in my hormones when I’m around him. I counter the heart-melting effect of his lopsided smile with thoughts of his pigheadedness and rationalize our rare intimate discussions with the memory of how he misled me. I remind myself that his overall goal has little to do with me and everything to do with him and his friends. Daydreams about being wrapped in his arms are canceled out with nightmares about the moment he walks across the borderline and doesn’t look back. Every second in his presence is a struggle to maintain my distance.
Ryland closes the atlas and stacks the printed maps on top. “We can stand here and stare at these all night, but it’s not going to change what the best route is.”
Aiden and Wes both agree.
“Are you guys ready to swap out the vehicles?” I ask.
Wes jingles the keys to the truck. “Yeah. I’m going to miss cramming into the back seat of the old girl.”
I smile at his fondness for the vehicle that has served us well. “I’ll let you drive it back to the workshop, and we’ll meet you there.”
Wes practically skips out of the room and to the side door leading out to the garage. The rest of us head to the far back corner of the property where Josh’s workshop sits. Like the bunker, it’s protected by a security scanner, and I use my fingerprint to unlock the door. Thankfully, all of its solar panels didn’t short circuit when the phone call went dead. I flip the switch on the wall and light up the inside of the metal structure. A newer model SUV sits in its massive glory in the middle of the room. This was Josh’s baby. He had already equipped it with a state-of-the-art electrical system able to power the engine using electricity and minimal gasoline as the backup energy source. Noah worked day and night attempting to create a mobile charging station, and it’s almost perfect… almost. The SUV will be fully charged when we leave in the morning. The electrical charge will last for the first four hundred miles of our journey. After that, the fuel system will kick in for the next six hundred. During this time, the solar panels Noah rigged to the top of the vehicle will recharge the battery and hopefully supply us with another couple hundred miles. After the final cycle, the SUV will no longer function, leaving us to walk the rest of the way.
Once we return to the house, the boys load the SUV. I go to the bunker to secure other priceless items like photo albums and jewelry that have been passed down through generations. Hopefully, at the very worst, the shelter will one day be reopened in a more peaceful time, and viewed as a time capsule of the typical family pre-Affliction instead of a haven.
To commemorate our final night in the house, River insists we have an over-the-top dinner. She has thawed out what may be the last remaining roast on the continent. The greenhouse is stripped of all its ripe fruits and vegetables, and the dining room table and chairs are dusted off. We find Amara’s antique plates and silverware and set it before each of the six seats. Dozens of candles light the table and surrounding area, setting everything in a buttery glow.
River insists that everyone dresses up for the feast. So, while the roast is cooking, she rummages through several of the boxes in the basement until she finds the one containing a few of our old semi-formal dresses. She kicks the boys out of the bunker and the two of us spend the time getting ready for the evening.
To appease her unrelenting need for a formal dining experience, I sit at the kitchenette table with an array of bobby pins and hair accessories sprawled out before me. She twists and turns my thick hair into an elaborate updo before moving on to my makeup. I try to bat her away several times, but her persistence pays off. She even convinces me to wear a cream-colored dress she says is suitable for the occasion. When I exit the shoe-box-sized bathroom yanking on the hem of it, I come to a stop.
“Is that the dress you bought online and your mom wouldn’t let you wear to the end of the year dance?” I ask.
She twirls around, and the puffy, short skirt floats up, showing a hint of the tight lace shorts she’s wearing underneath. “It sure is. This dress deserves a night out. Just look at it.”
It isn’t exactly a dress. The upper portion of the voluminous mini skirt is lined with black lace details and paired with a matching crop top. It leaves a good two inches of the brown skin on her abdomen exposed. Amara usually didn’t judge us for our clothing, but this “dress” had crossed the line. The second River modeled it, Amara put her foot down about wearing it in public.
River slips her feet into a pair of black stilettos before directing me to turn around. I spin in a full circle and find her scowling when we’re face to face again.
“I look stupid.” I march back to the bathroom .
“Stop!”
I peer at her over my shoulder.
“You do realize the back of the dress is see-through? I can see your bra.”
I crane my neck to look behind me. “You want me to not wear a bra?”
“You look smoking hot, but your bra is out of place.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” I stomp back into the bathroom to remove the garment in question.
I come back out to find her holding a pair of strappy, silver heels in one hand and a matching bracelet in the other. I take the items from her and put them on.
“Pick up a dish to carry upstairs, but don’t grab anything that will spill on the dress. We’ll send the boys to get the rest,” she says, placing a lid on the bowl of mashed potatoes.
River’s desire to orchestrate the perfect dinner is out of control, but I get it. When we leave the house, our lives will become completely practical. All the tiny luxuries we still have will be a thing of the past. But we still have tonight, and we are going to make the most of it.
As I walk through the ground level of the house, hushed male voices drift through the air. The soft glow of candlelight dances at the entryway of the dining room to the gentle sound of acoustic music. Baritone laughter rings out in the mellow atmosphere and greets me as I enter, but it quickly comes to a standstill. I place the dish in my hands down and slowly lift my gaze to find four sets of eyes focusing on me.
With a playful grin, Aiden says, “I should’ve pushed harder for a date. You look absolutely incredible.”
My face heats up, and I duck my head while situating the dish in the middle of the table. When the wave of embarrassment fades, I slide into my chair and casually take in each of the boys. River offered them the pick of Josh’s dress-shirts and suits, and they used the pieces to create their semi-formal ensembles.
Aiden and Noah both chose white button-up shirts, but Noah opted to pair his with a black tie, perfectly knotted at the base of his neck. Aiden wears a dark-blue blazer. The most casual of the four men is Wes. He couldn’t give up his black jeans with a hole in the knee, and he accessorized the dress shirt with his black hoodie. Finally, I take in the sight of Ryland. He is in all black. The sleeves of his button-up shirt are rolled below his elbows, leaving his tattooed forearms exposed. His soft chestnut waves frame his face, and his green eyes look two shades lighter than usual. As always, the man is breathtaking.
“Gentlemen,” River says in a singsong voice entering the room.
All attention shifts from me to her. I smile to myself, watching their jaws hit the floor. I’m pretty sure this is the reaction she was hoping for. Noah scrambles from his chair and takes the dish she brought from her. He places it on the table before holding her hand and guiding her in a spin. With a devouring look in his eyes, he pulls her into his arms and tips her back for a dramatic kiss.
I look away from their public display of affection to find that I’m wrong. She hasn’t captured the attention of everyone in the room. Ryland leans back in his chair with his hands in his pockets, and his eyes glued onto me. Never have I been the girl who has gone out of her way to draw a guy’s attention, but he makes me want to test those uncharted waters. I lick my lips and fuss with my table setting, trying to pretend I don’t notice him. He shifts in his seat and runs his fingers through his hair. With a bit of courage, I look at him through my eyelashes and bat them. In reply, his jaw clenches and one side of his mouth lifts into a smirk.
“Ry.” River’s raised voice breaks the spell between us. “If you want to eat, you better go help your friends bring up the rest of the food.”
With a sweeping look, I discover we’re the only three remaining in the room.
Ryland stands and answers, “Of course.”
When he’s gone, River turns to me with huge curious eyes. “What was that?”
“What?”
“You were flirting with him, batting your eyes, and licking your lips. Oh my god, Quinn, I’ve never seen you do that!”
“He was staring,” I say, like it explains it all.
“Damn right he was staring. You look amazing,” she says, just as the boys return.
The food is delicious, and the red wine helps to aid the lively conversation. Everyone takes turns telling stories about our lives before the Affliction. It becomes a game where we try to embarrass each other with recounts of our most unbecoming moments. We laugh, enthralled by the stories, and giving little mind to the war raging on around us.
I have to hand it to River; the dinner party was a great idea. For a fraction of time, we’re six normal young adults sipping on wine and dropping sexual innuendos. We’re self-absorbed and careless. It’s a refreshing feeling. I get to experience what it could have been like if the Z virus never existed. I would’ve gone to college and spent weekend nights with a group of newly made friends. We’d get drunk and not give a damn about anything but the moment. My life would have solely revolved around me.
After dinner, we work in a tipsy haze to clean up the mess in the dining room. When the dishes are packed away, everyone retreats to the study with the last bottle of wine to take advantage of our final night of freedom. I sneak away to the bunker to grab some clothes to sleep in. There’s a good chance that with low inhibitions, this could be the night Noah and River try to take their relationship to the next level. I really don’t want to be in the bunker when it happens. Besides, nothing in the world sounds as good as sleeping in my own room one last time.
As I head up the stairs, the bathroom door opens. I stop dead in my tracks as Ryland walks out. He has on nothing but a light gray pair of sweatpants sitting low on his hips and a towel to dry his soaked hair. Seeing him like this brings back memories of the first time I witnessed him shirtless in the bunker. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him then either.
He pauses as he catches sight of me. The short dress with its sheer back feels like it’s leaving me completely exposed. The skin of my bare legs rises into thousands of tiny goosebumps, and I silently curse myself for not changing into my pajamas before leaving the bunker.
“I—I didn’t know you were up here,” I say.
“I needed a shower,” he replies, balling the towel in his hands.
I wonder if his shower was cold and if I had anything to do with it. I pucker my lips to the side and scold myself for having such a thought. Ever since the call to Dylan’s mother, I’ve been able to hold on to my feelings of mistrust, allowing them to be the foundation of the wall I’ve created to keep him out. We’re more than civil to one another, but our budding friendship was stunted that day. The only bond we seem to share anymore is forged by our desire to save our friends and hatred for Zs. We’re still an unstoppable duo when kicking Z ass, but as soon as the battle is over, the wall is erected again. I’ve been content to stand on opposite sides of an emotional void.
“What are you doing?” he asks, pointing at the clothes in my hands.
“I’m going to sleep up here. Something tells me Noah and River will need privacy tonight.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You might be right about that.”
“Yeah,” I say, turning to my room.
“Quinn,” he calls before I shut my door. “Can I talk to you for a moment… in private?”
I take in his state of undress and swallow the lump in my throat. My thighs clench as forbidden thoughts dance through my head. I don’t think I can concentrate with the hourglass inked on his sternum on full display or the sight of his naked arms or his wet hair. Fuck, I’m in so much trouble.
I open my door for him. “Sure, come in.”
He hangs his wet towel on the stair’s banister and enters my room. I shut the door and move past him to the window. I need something to keep me distracted from looking at him. My traitorous brain is already imagining the way the shadows will highlight the lean muscles of his chest and arms. His skin will be welcoming, looking so smooth that the tips of my fingers will tingle with the need to touch him. I force the thoughts from my head and focus on the treetops off in the distance.
“Are we ever going to move on from what happened, or are you going to keep pushing me away?” The graininess of his voice is proof of his hurt and regret.
I shake my head. “We are moving on, and why should I let you get close when we’re on borrowed time? In a week and a half, we’ll part ways. I want to make it an easy separation.”
I close my eyes and will myself to stand firmly in place as the soft steps of his bare feet move toward me. If I back down, he’ll sense my weakness, and I won’t have the chance to keep my upper hand on him. He stops short of touching me, but the heat radiating from his skin sends a shiver down my spine, and the fresh scent of soap from his clean body invades my senses, fracturing my resolve.
“I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do. I’ve made the promises you asked me to make, and I’ve respected the boundaries between us, but for what?” he quietly asks.
“So we can both walk away from this whole.”
“What if the only time I feel whole is when you’re with me?” I gasp as the tip of his finger glides over the row of buttons on the back of my dress. Between each clasp, the fabric parts, allowing him to touch the skin down my spine. His voice is a soft hum as he says, “What if the moment you leave is the second I fall apart?”
My head spins, and I tell myself it’s from the wine and not his touch and words. “You won’t.”
“Tell me you believe you won’t fall apart without me,” he whispers, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.
I vigorously shake my head. “I won’t.”
“You’re lying.” He presses his lips to the curve of my shoulder, making my skin prickle with goosebumps. My breath leaves me when his fingers move into my hair. The tiny ping of my hairpins hitting the floor resound throughout the room as he continues to speak. “Throughout the day, you try to casually glance my way in hopes it will be enough to curb your curiosity. You pray it will hold you over until tomorrow when it’s safe to steal another look. When we’re alone in a room, you say a quiet prayer that I’ll be the first to break and to pull you into my arms. And for the first time in God knows how long, you brave the nightmares that sleep brings for the off chance that you’ll dream about me.”
His words have me at a loss. I never expected him to have the slightest inkling about my feelings for him. He has me totally pegged from my unspoken wish for him to hold me to the dreams of a safe alternate universe where we can be together. He brushes my hair from the nape of my neck and replaces it with his lips.
I struggle to keep my bearings and ask, “How do you know that?”
His smiles against my skin before he lifts his head, and I immediately miss the warmth of his breath. Thankfully, the feeling is short-lived. He turns me to face him, laces his fingers through my hair, and moves so close our mouths are separated by a mere sliver of space. “Because it’s how I feel about you.”
His lips are soft as they move against mine, and I close my eyes and savor our first kiss. For months, I’ve wanted to have my body pressed into his and his arms holding me close. I’ve wondered if his kisses are as perfect as the shape of his pink lips. Now I have my answer.
His kiss is deliciously slow, lingering like he’s cherishing the feeling. I’m lost in the heady taste of him, mixed with a hint of red wine. Combing my fingers through his hair, I pull him closer, silently begging him to deepen the sweet kiss as electricity charges every cell of my body with euphoric bliss. I don’t know how I’m supposed to go the rest of my life without ever feeling this again, but that’s what is destined to happen.
I’m cruelly brought back to reality, and slowly separate my mouth from his. Resting my forehead on his chest, I catch my breath. I’ll live the rest of my life without his kisses. No matter how this all plays out, his future is inevitable. He will return to Giran. The chances of those holding another continent’s passport crossing the border are a hundred times better than those who do not. The truth is that we’ll go our separate ways, and I’ll know what it’s like to fall apart without him.
“Quinn?” The worry in his voice rips me apart. Ever since I saw him sitting defeated under the tree in the forest surrounded by Zs, I’ve wanted to protect him, even though I feared to care for another person. I’ve fought to stay my course, but he has conquered my defenses and claimed his stake. He’s stolen a piece of my heart.
“Please don’t make this harder than it already is,” I beg.
He brushes down my hair and kisses the top of my head. “I’m trying to save us, love.”
Us , but there is no us. At least, there’s no us beyond the here and now.
He pulls away and guides me to sit on the edge of the bed. Kneeling before me, he removes my shoes as I quietly watch. He wraps the blanket from my bed around his shoulders before climbing onto the mattress and holding his arms open. I can’t stop myself. I curl up next to him, resting my head on his chest. I swear, only this once will I forfeit my resolve and allow him to win.
With hooded eyes, I listen to his deep voice vibrating through his chest as he says, “At least for tonight, let me hold you. You are the only thing that can save me from my nightmares, Quinn.”