Chapter 8 #2
“We’re on the fringes of that. Mostly, our family does health-care stuff and runs supplies back and forth.
We’re not messengers—there are other folks who do that between settlements—but we do carry messages to places on our routes.
It’s a good system. A good place.” The last time he’d been there, their group had been asked to carry a message along with supplies to a settlement to the southeast called Mother’s Hands.
His jaw clenched at the memory, and he forced himself to relax.
“It’s been months since I’ve seen my family.
” He sighed. “I hope they’re still in our usual home area and haven’t tried to come back for me.
The only way to find out is to see if I can reach them on the radio.
I should also send out a general warning about the horde to anyone who can hear our signal. ”
“Then let’s do that,” Allie said, pulling back to look him in the eyes. The utter sincerity there staggered him, especially considering how nervous she’d seemed about the idea of him leaving. But there was no doubt that she meant what she said. “I’ll help any way I can.”
“Angel,” he said, leaning his forehead against hers, “you are without a doubt the most help I’ve had in a long time.” Maybe ever, but he didn’t want to examine that thought too closely.
She smiled. “Well, it’s not like I’ve got a whole lot else going on,” she said, gesturing to the bunker around them.
You do now. No way was he leaving her there in the bunker. If—when—he found out where his family was, Allie would come with him to meet them.
He might not have prophetic dreams, but he had dreamed of her. He knew it with a staggering certainty. During one of those frantic catnaps he’d taken while trying to escape from the horde, hidden in a barn somewhere, he’d dreamed of her and her truck and her big brown eyes.
Allie belonged with them. With me.
Her lips were right there, looking very kissable, so he followed his instincts. The kiss was filled with reassurance, affection, and want. Every part of him loved having this access to her, and every part of him soon began clamoring for more than kisses.
Cam pulled back with a final nip of her enticing and now-damp bottom lip. “You think Wilt Chamberlain hid any condoms over here by the couch?”
Allie laughed a little breathlessly and delighted him by climbing onto his lap and straddling him. She pressed her heat against his growing erection. “There’s only one way to find out.”
After learning with some disappointment that there were no condoms in the tiny living room, Cam ran naked to the bedroom to get one. They enjoyed some frantic and highly satisfying couch sex then went back to the communication station. By unspoken agreement, neither turned on the computer monitor.
Allie flipped on the shortwave radio. “I know how to tune in to different frequencies, and there were a few people broadcasting when I got here and for a while afterward. But I never really wanted to talk to anyone. I was afraid I’d somehow tip them off to where I was.
There were”—she swallowed—“people I didn’t want to run into again, and I knew they could come into this area at any time. ”
Her eyes didn’t contain fear, only a dull pain, the ghost of something old that had risen up in her mind. Someone had hurt her, probably during that six-month period she refused to talk about.
A wave of hot fury, the opposite of Z-terror, raced through his body, along with a sudden urge to ask what had happened. He yearned to find out if whoever had wounded her so badly was still alive so he could kill them in the most painful way possible.
He took a breath, hoping it didn’t shake too much, as the fire in his belly seethed. “That makes total sense,” he said, proud of how calm he sounded.
Allie’s eyes cleared a little, but her voice turned rueful. “Cowardly, really.”
He shook his head. “Smart.”
That earned him a tiny smile. “Well, I kept listening, anyway. At least once a week. The news wasn’t exactly good, but this one woman would play music every day from three to four in the afternoon. She never gave her name or location, but she would give the titles and artists. I loved it.”
“That sounds amazing.”
“Some people just tried to spread information. There was a guy who I think was in the military—he just went by Sarge—and he talked a lot about how to treat wounds and illnesses and how to deal with PTSD. He told stories and gave good advice. He reminded me of my uncle. He was up north, near Champaign. And then there was this one woman, south of here. She called herself DJ Clueless, but she was so nice, and she taught me a lot. I loved her voice.”
The wistful smile on Allie’s face did a lot to dissipate any residual anger about whatever had happened in her past. He couldn’t help but smile. “That’s a great handle.”
“She was isolated, like me, but she was in a radio station. And she would broadcast every day, recording and looping it now and then. Sometimes, I’d just leave it on. It felt like having someone with me.”
“I’m grateful for DJ Clueless, then.” The existing radio network was small, but it was handy. Cam felt profound relief that Allie had access to those other voices.
“Me too.” Her smile faded. “She was going through a rough time, and I was so worried about her. But then the storm hit, and I couldn’t listen anymore. I couldn’t find her on the shortwave, so I thought maybe... something had happened.”
“God, Allie.”
“She had cats. She loved talking about them. I thought maybe I could find one. A dog wouldn’t be happy down here, but I figured a cat would be fine.
” She tucked a lock of hair behind one ear and glanced down at her hand.
“I fed some cats in Fairfield for a week or so and made friends with a little calico. I called her Luna. She let me pet her every time I came to town, but one day, when I tried to pick her up and bring her back to the truck, she freaked out and scratched the hell out of me.” She raised her hand, palm up.
He peered at the faint scar. “Damn.”
“It wasn’t her fault. But I never saw her again after that.” Allie blinked away the moisture in her eyes. “I didn’t have the heart to try again. It all just made me think that maybe I was supposed to be alone.”
“But you’re not. Now you know there are still people out there. We’re not alone.”
She nodded. “I know. I just hope Harper is okay, that she made it.”
“Harper?” Cam couldn’t hold back a shout of laughter.
“Oh God. I knew DJ Clueless sounded familiar. Angel, Harper is more than okay. She’s still at that radio station, and it’s a community now—well, more like a huge farm.
They’re all about agriculture there. She still broadcasts, too, although I’ll bet she’s a lot less lonely. ”
“Seriously?” Allie looked to be near tears—the good kind.
“Seriously,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “I’ve never been to the Station, but I’ve heard all about it. I bet I can find their frequency if I try. I know the Plant is in regular radio communication with them.”
To prove it, both to himself and to Allie, he switched on the shortwave radio and turned the dial. His grin faded a little when his first foray yielded nothing but static. Shit.
“We’ll try again later,” he said.
After taking turns on the manual treadmill and the stationary bike and showering—together, which was a new delight—they made dinner and tried again. Nothing.
When they got ready for bed, Cam took one last look at the radio but didn’t turn it on. Instead, he went back to the bedroom to lose himself in Allie and in the warm comfort they’d found together.
His group hadn’t been to the Plant in many months, thanks to Key and Malcolm’s inability to be in the same general area without shouting at each other, but surely they would have heard if one of the more important way stations in their network had fallen. But that was no guarantee.
As they cuddled, Cam closed his eyes and thought as hard as he could about Key. He envisioned her in his mind—tall, strong, smiling. Key, I’m safe in a bunker in Illinois. I need to talk to you. Get on the goddamn radio tomorrow, wherever you are.
He certainly didn’t read minds, and he didn’t think Key could unless she’d been keeping that kind of ability secret, but given the state of the world around them, it couldn’t fucking hurt to try.