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ANITA LEFT THE DEBATE greatly relieved to see Angus alive. She’d feared the worst when she’d told Tillie what she’d seen. She hadn’t known what the men were intending when they’d abducted him. But despite her relief, she had a bad feeling about where this was all heading. The hallway was loud with people arguing about the debate. There was a tight current of tension that she felt sure would lead to fist fights or worse. People were on edge. They wanted to see something explode. This courteous confrontation between Angus and Jackson hadn’t been the best resolution. She didn’t like the politics or the undercurrent of potential violence and worried that Jackson was going to keep pushing until he got his explosion.
An angry man, shouting at his counterpart shoved her to one side as he passed. A pair of dogs started yapping, and seemed to be causing a commotion by the exit. Anita stepped into a doorway to stay out of the way. She wanted to find somewhere quiet to rest. Before the debate, she’d put in a long day volunteering in the kitchen. Her feet hurt. The work was simple, and the people were so sweet. She especially liked that none of the decisions came down to her. Following orders was a wonderful respite after being adrift for so long. She liked the people here in general. The things that they were working towards were goals she could support wholeheartedly.
The crowd shifted and parted. The man who was in charge of all the militias was headed her way. Was his name Martin? He was talking to a man who had an arm in a sling. There was something very familiar about that man. She stayed where she was, staring, trying to place him. They passed by her. The man’s voice triggered a memory.
“Nick?” she yelped.
He turned, green eyes curious, scanning the crowd, but he didn’t recognize her. Her throat closed up and tears flooded her eyes. “It’s me,” she sobbed, barely able to get the words out.
He came over to her. “I’m sorry, do I...” She saw the sudden recognition in his eyes. “Anita?”
Martin joined them. “Problem?”
She couldn’t speak. Nick put his good arm around her. She buried her face in his chest and couldn’t stop crying. After all this time, a miracle.
“This is my sister-in-law, Anita,” Nick said.
She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. Memories choked her into silence. Martin guided them down the corridor, out of the flood of people. She leaned against, Nick too rattled to let go. Then he took her into a smaller room and put her in a chair.
“Are you all right?” Nick asked.
She nodded, wiping tears off her face. He handed her a handkerchief. She noticed that it had his name embroidered on the corner. Someone came in the door behind them, and then Nick put a steaming cup in her hand.
“Drink some tea,” he said gently. She saw the tears in his eyes. He was remembering, too.
“Was it you?” she asked, her voice all hiccups and squeaks.
Nick sat in a chair next to her. “Was me what?”
“Who buried them?” She had to take a couple breaths to steady her voice. “When I got back to the house, no one was there. All dead. Buried in the backyard.”
His eyes went bleak. “Yes. I was there. I took care of them.”
She had a million questions to ask. She wanted to know about the dead, but it hurt so much to say their names. When she looked at his eyes, she could see the answers were going to hurt just as much.
“They all went quickly. One after the other,” Nick said softly. He cleared his throat, rubbing his chin in a mannerism that reminded her of his brother. “We thought you’d died, when you didn’t come back.”
“My flight was canceled,” The words flew out. It was such a relief to finally explain to someone why she hadn’t been there for her husband and son. How an overnight business trip had turned into the end of her world. “I tried to get a train, but there was a riot at the station. People were crazy. A stampede. I was knocked out and left for dead. When I came to, I tried to get a car, anything.” She wiped her eyes with the soggy handkerchief. “I walked. I tried to steal a car.” She choked on a laugh. “There were so many people dead. I stole food from a looted supermarket.”
Nick squeezed her hand. “It was a bad time.”
She shrieked with a laugh that was so bitter it took her breath away. A bad time? There were no words for what her life had been like in the weeks it had taken her to get to her in-laws house. And for a few minutes she was lost in those desperate days. Bodies lying in the streets. The smell. The terror. Her heart ached with the fear she’d clung to during the whole blighted journey, only to find her worst nightmare at the end of it. All gone. All dead and buried by the time she got there. “You should have left a note,” she said angrily.
“Saying what?” Nick nudged her cup, encouraging her to drink. “I assumed you were dead. Who would I leave a note for?”
The tea was sweet. The warmth of it sliding down her raw throat was soothing. “I wasn’t there,” she whispered.
“Let it go,” Nick said softly. “You have to let it go, or it will kill you.”
She couldn’t let go. Over the years she had buried the pain and guilt of not being there for her husband and son as they died. She never got to say goodbye. They left this life without ever seeing her again. Unearthing all that now was agony. “Tell me?” she begged.
A long flat silence hung between them. Nick stared off into space. She knew where his thoughts were and silently pleaded for him to share them. The tea was long gone by the time he finally spoke.
“Not here,” he said hoarsely.
She followed him deeper into the school, bracing herself for a hard truth.