31. Ava
THIRTY-ONE
AVA
My heart hammers in my chest as I wonder what horrible decision I’ve talked us into. My breath is stifling against my mask as I lean against the truck. The tepid afternoon only feeds the gathering sweat that dampens my brow and slickens my palms, and as Knox disappears into the garage, my heart lodges in my throat. My only shred of solace is knowing Lucy is with him. She’ll sniff out someone before Knox can be blindsided, and bark if something goes wrong. She might be a sweet girl, but she’d maim if she had to protect Knox. I know she would.
As that familiar void and tingling sensation threatens the edge of my senses, I squeeze my eyes shut. “No. Not now,” I whisper. “Pull yourself together, Ava.”
I inhale deeply, exhaling as I open my eyes, and fan myself with a map I slipped in the door cubby. The breeze helps, and I lick my drying lips and try to keep my breathing steady. “You got this. You’ll be okay.”
Inhale. Exhale.
Inhale. Exhale.
I grip the shotgun tighter against me, trying my best to push the anxiety that riddles every inch of me down. Apprehensive doesn’t begin to cover it. Did I really suggest this?
Knox could get shot. Ambushed. I could get ambushed. Foot tapping, I stare up the road. It’s quiet, save for a crow cawing from its perch on the telephone pole. It peers down at me, blinking its beady eyes, its head cocked to the side. Then the crow leans forward to caw again. It’s incessant and makes me uncomfortable, so I look away.
Inhale. Exhale.
Inhale. Exhale.
I try to focus on anything but myself and scan the second-story windows of the firehouse for movement. Please be empty loops through my head, and I realize I don’t want to find anyone here. I want this place to be abandoned. Overflowing with provisions and filled with answers to all my questions, sure. But people? I know not everyone is like Lars or the trigger-happy trespassers who shot Julio. But if they were?
I swallow the bile inching its way up my throat. I’m fine with it being only Knox and me until we get to Kansas.
A tinny thunk practically booms in the oppressive silence, and I jump, glaring at Loca’s big brown eye blinking at me from inside the trailer. She paws at the wall again, making too much noise.
“Shh!” I whisper-chide, my eyes shifting back to our surroundings. “Do you want to be found out? Because your next rider will not be as amazing as me.” I lift a brow, and Loca snorts in answer.
It’s quiet again, and after waiting for what feels like an eternity, a cold sweat breaks down my spine. Unbidden, I feel it creeping in again—the void.
“No.” It’s another exhaled breath as a distant ringing starts in the back of my head, growing louder. A coldness fills my veins and spreads throughout my body. “Breathe, Ava.” I squeeze my eyes shut again, willing it to go away. “ Breathe .” But every inhale and exhale with my mask on is suffocating and I can’t tear it off fast enough.
I grab the doorframe to brace myself, the fibrous mask crumpled in my grip. I drop into the passenger seat, afraid to open my eyes as I exhale—slowly. I don’t want the world to be black—I can’t afford this right now. I know panic only makes it worse, so I try to think about cold water and a breeze.
The longer I fan myself, the better I feel, and just as I think I might feel more collected, a whistle meets my ears. My eyes fly open to find Knox striding across the street, Lucy trotting beside him.
Licking my lips, I straighten, exhaling with relief as my mind clears.
“It’s abandoned,” he says. “I think they all went to Guymon.”
“Wh—” I clear my throat. “Where’s that?” With shaking hands, I uncap my water bottle and take a deep pull, praying it cools me off from the inside out.
“Oklahoma.” Knox holsters his pistol, glancing at the horses, oblivious to my inner turmoil. Thankfully. This is not something he needs on his plate right now.
“Oklahoma? That could be a good sign,” I realize, knowing our plan is to head north anyway.
“Yeah. It’s about one hundred twenty miles north of here.” Knox reaches through the open truck window for his water. “It looks like there’s an evacuation center or research facility of some sort there.”
“How do you know?”
Knox looks at me. “It’s written on the wall. Literally.” His brow furrows as he eyes me up and down. “Are you okay?” It’s easy to guess that my skin is more pallid than it should be.
“Yeah. Well”—I shrug—“slightly terrified you’d get ambushed, but...” I give him a tight-lipped smile.
Knox appraises me a second longer before he gets in the truck. He sees too much, even if he isn’t quite sure what he’s picking up on. But truthfully, I do feel a little better, and having never been able to talk myself back from the edge of a spell, I am slightly hopeful.
“I’m just glad you’re back,” I whisper.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” he says, pulling the door shut.
I close mine too. “Yeah, Knox.” I sound more impatient than intended. “So, what’s the plan?”
After a heartbeat more, he pulls the truck closer to the station. “It will be dark soon. Let’s stay here tonight and park in the garage for now, keep everything out of sight while we figure things out.”
I can’t help but notice the tracks our tires leave in the ash, but darkness or maybe more ash will cover them soon enough.
“There’s a basketball court in the back where the horses can stretch their legs,” Knox continues. “We can take stock of what was left behind, and I can look through all the notes and paperwork that’s here, see what I can make of it.”
“So, coming here was a good thing,” I muse, the weight of worry and potential regret lifting.
“Yeah,” Knox says, throwing the truck and trailer into reverse. “I think it was.”
After a couple of backward maneuvers, we’re parked in the enormous garage that’s more like an airplane hangar. I imagine six fire engines could fit inside, but today, it’s only us.
I climb out before Knox can shut off the truck, desperate to keep my body and mind busy so the darkness doesn’t start creeping in again. Is it a logical plan? I have no idea. But focusing on everything other than having an episode seems to help a little.
Walking around the trailer, I reach for the gate latch when Knox appears beside me. I startle. He frowns. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I frown back. “Yeah, Knox. I’m just uncomfortable being here. And I was freaking out while you were inside, but it’s all good now.”
Lucy trots around, sniffing an old oil puddle before moving on to the lockers and equipment racks lining the wall. She’s completely unfazed, which gives me a small sense of comfort. She’d be on alert if something was amiss.
“Okay, I’ll stop asking,” he mutters. Knox steps into the trailer and unties Rooster’s lead rope. His hooves echo throughout the garage like a hammer against a steel drum as Knox backs him down the ramp. The sound grates on my senses and my skin crawls in response.
“Hold him, would you?”
I take the rope, and Knox heads into the trailer to untie Loca. “I need to show you something when we get the horses settled.”
“That sounds a little ominous,” I say, leading Rooster toward the back door, away from Loca’s fidgeting that resounds through the entire garage. My adrenaline is still pounding, and it’s putting every sense I have on edge. Leaning my forehead against Rooster’s neck, I inhale his scent as his warmth seeps through my palm. I don’t know why he’s so calming, but I focus on his silky hair beneath my fingers as we wait for Knox and Loca.
“Over here.”
Straightening, I lead Rooster behind Knox and Loca out of a side exit. I’m not surprised to see the entire yard covered in ash. The covered grill area to the right, the patio set and basketball net. I stare at the fire tower in the back lot as Knox unclips Loca’s lead rope and smacks her rump. She startles and trots away, playfully flinging her head. I unclip Rooster’s rope, but he meanders after Knox, heading toward a garden hose a few yards down.
I notice a puddle on the ground. Knox likely checked the water during his sweep of the building. “I’ll grab their buckets,” I mutter, returning to the trailer. Back and forth I go, getting the horses’ food, while Knox fills the buckets for them to sip from throughout the evening.
With the horses content, we make quick work of the roll-up doors. Actually, Knox does. He grabs one of the chain hoists at the closest bay, and I start on the opposite end of the garage. Knox has rolled down two of the three doors by the time I’m half done with mine. He makes it look effortless, of course. I can’t even appreciate the flex of his arms because I’m too busy cringing as the screech of metal fills the garage. “This seems counterintuitive in an emergency situation,” I grumble.
“The power’s out.” He smirks. “It’s not always this arduous.”
“That makes more sense.”
Knox waves for me to follow him when we’re finished. “Are you afraid of heights?” As we step into the back, I peer four stories up at the top of the fire tower. “Not typically. No.”
“Good.”
Without slowing, Knox hurries up the staircase winding around the building, taking two steps at a time. Lucy races past him with far too much pep in her step. I’m sure the exercise is refreshing for her after being cooped up in the back of the truck all day. On the other hand, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. I keep up as best as I can, wishing there was more of a breeze to counteract the still, almost humid afternoon.
I do a double take and stop on the third-floor platform. “What the actual fuck?” The last level of stairs is forgotten as I peer at what’s left of the town.
“You can see it more clearly up here,” Knox calls back, nearly to the top.
Heaving a breath, I hurry after him, more swiftly this time.
“That,” Knox says, staring out at the lava rifts that have torn through the town, “is why I said we need a new plan.” Lava fissures stretch across the edge of the town like a patchwork of deadly scars, and I hate to think about what else waits for us beyond the smoke.
“ That is why they left this place behind,” I realize.
“And according to the maps they have covering the walls inside,” Knox explains, “it’s like this all the way to New Mexico. We need to look at them...closely. Because our plan just changed.”