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ANDY. HER BACK HURT but the ache paled each time she glanced in the direction of her son driving their four-wheeler, the man of the family. Where her husband should have been.
She’d made them leave. The house had caved in. Rachel had swallowed her scream. Clenched her gloved fingers into the rubber of the handles and hollered at Cole. He’d stared. He couldn’t move. How many times had she called his name? Five minutes? Try ten. They’d sat there for at least ten minutes but the sound of a helicopter had chopped through the haze.
Cole’s name had exited on a scream. They’d tore from there with flames at their backs. Andy was behind them. How could she move away from him...
They crested the hill, dust billowing behind them. Nothing stirred down either side of the fork.
Noon had to be just around the corner. Their mouths were dry as the powdered tire ruts stretching behind them. Rachel had pushed them, not stopping for even a sip. They hadn’t seen anyone after they’d passed the main highway.
Cole’s eyelids drooped and his head lolled.
“Cole, we’re almost there. I promise.”
He rubbed his eyes and slurred, “I’m tired. I miss Dad.”
“I know.” But Rachel’s heart whispered it hadn’t been long enough to miss Andy yet, even with the loss so glaring and sharp. She did, even though it wasn’t logical.
The radio hadn’t given anything more than static and Rachel hadn’t asked anyone if they had news. Andy had worked into her brain the importance of keeping clear of people for a while once the end began to wrap its tentacles around the world. Desperation can drive otherwise humane people to do the unthinkable. Keep going. Get to the ranch. Had Bob and Martha made it to safety?
“Mommy, I’m hungry.” Beau’s whines had increased until he was saying something every five minutes. Her patience wore thin, but she bit her lip.
Rachel didn’t know how much more she could take before snapping. She sighed and waved Cole to drive beside her. Over her shoulder she answered in a normal voice with a hint of ‘that’s enough’, “I know you are. We all are. Only a few more minutes and we’ll be at the ranch. I’ll make a big huge lunch, okay? Maybe we can have some fruit or something.”
Beau mumbled, his words lost beneath the growl of the engine. Rachel ignored him. They were so close. She had to hold it together – for her kids and her sanity – until they were safe on the property. One more corner.
Across a small bridge over a deep snowpack-fed spring, the road led them deeper into the northern National Forest. Rachel and Andy had saved and penny-pinched like misers to purchase the modest ten acres in the middle of nowhere up the side of a mountain.
And like they crossed a line, the heat vanished with the dust and a chilly breeze whisked at her hair. Cole’s teeth chattered and he shrugged his jacket on. Winter lingered in the deeper regions of the mountains. Gray crusts on snow burms struggled to melt in the high altitude and little sun streaming through the thick evergreens.
Creeks and springs would be glutted until mid to late-June when the real heat waves began and triple digits ate at the moisture corroding the land.
She’d forgotten the slow awakening of spring in the higher altitudes.
Just as suddenly as the temperature changed the road ended in a clearing. The only vehicles so high up would be the contracted logging trucks to preen the forests a little at a time. Cole braked and Rachel motioned for him to wait.
Off the quad, Rachel retraced their tire tread the hundred yards to the bridge past the bend and watched for anyone following them. Secrecy at this stage of the journey was tantamount to their future safety. No one could see how to get it in. Even if looters or enemies weren’t following them, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen later. The stakes in the game had changed and every precaution, while seemingly paranoid, would at some point be an asset.
Rachel glanced at the swirling rivulets. Had it been just that morning her kids had slept in their beds? It felt as though decades had past. Her husband, love of her life, hadn’t died in a terrible house fire saving someone else’s kids. Terrible things didn’t happen to Rachel. She planned for them, saved for them, but they never actually happened. Until that point, she’d been unrecognizably blessed. No deaths in her family, unremarkable work. She’d been traumatized by experiments, but in actuality she’d do the invaluable psychoses training again, if she were given the choice.
The list of terrible was mounting and Rachel didn’t appreciate the load dumping in her lap. Her clients weren’t the only ones who needed stress management skills. Her favorite? Listing the last names of the Presidents of the United States in chronological order. The most mundane, rote mind exercises were the best. Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe...
One minute of grief. But not until her children were safely ensconced at the cabin, after they slept that night. Heaven knew she wouldn’t be able to close her eyes without seeing the house fall in on itself in red and orange flames, her husband inside. On repeat.
Tripping over a jutted root, Rachel caught her balance. She was clumsiest when she was tired.
The perimeter of the clearing hid the entrance to their land. A tree carved with a large heart and her husband and her initials marked the start of the search. Count three over from that trunk, turn east to its mirror and count two trees to the right into the bushes. Behind the tallest brush a log led the way into the forest where halfway between a large cedar and a tamarack a hard right finally led in the right direction. Another mile in and their home-off-the-grid nestled in the protection of the trees.
Andy had loved spy novels and Louis L’Amour stories. Rachel counted and the journey continued. Branches hung low, bent from holding heavy snow throughout the winter, in their long held positions. Moss shaded the sides of bark like a child had colored on the trees with different hues of green crayons. Small patches of snow warred with the vegetation for a grip on the land.
Trees had fallen, thin trunks blocking the way of the path.
Cole stood on the foot plates of his quad and powered over them, the crunch and snap of wood too loud for comfort. Rachel winced and stayed a modest distance behind him. She couldn’t let him drive in back. She had to see him, make sure he was fine. Besides, each and every one of her children had memorized the way into their land. Andy had treated it like a spy game and the kids had eaten the directions and clues like cinnamon bears, soft and chewy with a hint of danger – who knew if the next one would be too spicy for fun.
Dang, he was everywhere. She could smell him in the fresh breeze pushing pine scent through the forest.
Steam from their engines rose in the mid-day shades of the forest. The last tree marking the beginning of their land came into view and Rachel’s shoulders sagged. Home, their new one and until things straightened out – if they straightened out – it would be for a while.
The tarp rustled from her trailer. Glancing over her shoulder, Rachel smiled at Kayli and Beau. Even with the circumstances surrounding their reasons for coming, their dad gone and whatever else awaited them, the magic of the land and its memories were stronger than the fear or uncertainty. They had more fun times with Andy at the cabin than anywhere else on Earth.
Rachel faced forward. Smack dab in the middle of the ten acres where a knoll jutted out from the side of the sloping mountain, Andy had built a “green” home in the land.
Living in a “cave” was the last thing she wanted, if anything should happen. Heck, on vacations, she didn’t want to wake up to dirt. She wanted room service and hot baths. But her husband, her beautiful smart husband had laughed. “Rachel,” he’d said, “You can and will have all that here. You just need to give me time to create it.” And she had, because anywhere Andy was, she was.
And he’d given her everything he’d promised.
“Cole, stop by the door and we’ll unload the stuff there. After that, you and Kayli can take the quads and trailers to the lean-to and store them behind the wood. Beau, you can help Mommy.” Rachel stood and, after stretching out her lower back, turned off the engine. She rescued her two youngest from amongst the supplies packed with so much care. Beau’s little legs couldn’t contain his excitement and he ran around the front “yard”, jumping over the white patches and whooping at each new thing.
Rachel longed to ask them to stay quiet, but they were kids and needed something to release the emotions overtaking them. A small knot of envy pushed at her heart. Beau could run and be carefree, even for the moment, the gravity of the situation too large for him to comprehend.
Rachel would never escape the images in her heart.
A small hand slipped into her fingers and Kayli’s body pressed against Rachel’s side. She looked down at Kayli’s thick auburn hair glinting in the strengthening light of day. A sniff escaped her daughter. Rachel knelt down and placed her hands on the little girl’s waist. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
Everything.
Large swimming green eyes looked at Rachel, and Kayli whispered, “Daddy isn’t with us. Why not?”
And the question knocked Rachel on her butt. She hadn’t considered the possibility that the kids wouldn’t understand what had happened right before their eyes. What did she say? How did she explain it? Did Rachel even understand herself? Her training hadn’t prepared her for juvenile grief. She dealt with behaviors, mental instabilities and insecurities. Fear. Not grief.
Basics. She could remember the basics, right? Rachel cleared her throat for more time. Logic. Approach everything with honesty and logic. Even with her mate missing in a world shot to hell in a hand basket, she’d treat everything with logic. “Kayli, do you remember the house that fell down? The one with the fire?” At Kayli’s timid nod, Rachel continued, tears welling in her eyes. “Daddy was inside, honey. He’s not going to be with us now.”
Kayli’s eyes widened. Her lower lip quivered and the rest of her features screwed up in a mask of pain. She tightened her fists at her side and shook her head, never taking her eyes from her mother’s face. Rachel’s stomach turned. “I’m sorry.”
Her daughter choked on a sob and stood frozen, trapped in her grief and unable to vocalize it. Rachel knelt down and pulled the small body into her arms. Holding Kayli with the fierceness of a mother bear, Rachel vowed in her heart to protect her children from the horrors that might come. Even if she had to steal, go hungry or kill. They’d lost their dad, she’d be damned if they would lose themselves. The kids were all she had left of Andy.
Some of her earlier psychology training had covered loss. Recalling the exact steps was impossible, but she had a copy of her psych book at the cabin for light reading. She’d check for more information on ways to treat grief in children.
Kayli’s heart wrenching sobs abated and she hiccupped against Rachel’s shoulder.
“Should we get things unpacked and settle into our ‘cave’? Like Batman?” Rachel patted Kayli’s back and looked up. Her two boys watched them a few feet away. Cole guarded against showing anything, even to his mom. Beau’s confusion tore at Rachel more than Kayli’s tears.
Standing, Rachel grabbed Kayli’s hand and Beau’s and corralled Cole with her arm to the cabin. “Come on, guys. We need to get settled before we do anything else and I think I hear tummies rumbling. Want something to eat?”
The mention of food lightened the mood. How could anyone be dead when the normalcy of eating needed to be attended to? The incomplete family pretended Andy had stepped out to stack a cord of wood while Mom made lunch. For the space of a few seconds, each one needed the situational delusion for their sanity’s sake.
If Rachel let herself, she could lie until even she believed it. But could she accept the sadness that would come, if she didn’t deal with the truth? She didn’t know. The gravity was stilting and, maybe, if she just placed one foot in front of the other she could get her kids through it.
She’d bury her heart in the garden later.
~
“COLE, LET’S PUT THE compost items on the side of the plot where Dad had it last year. Here’s the remains from lunch, would you, please?” Rachel handed the newspaper bundle of orange peels, bread crust and tomatoes over and smiled at his grossed-out expression. “Just wait ‘til the compost starts doing its job. You’re going to wish I was changing diapers again.”
Moments later, Cole returned to stand by Rachel in the circle of the kitchen. He hung his head. Setting the broom to the side, Rachel grabbed Cole’s hand. Fourteen-year-olds. “What’s the matter?”
He lifted his chin, eyes red. “Dad died because of me, didn’t he?”
Rachel pulled Cole to her and peered into his face. “What are you talking about? Did you set fire to that house? Did you scream from inside? Did you give your daddy the inherent desire to help any and all people at every opportunity? No. There is no way you are responsible for your dad.”
“Mom, you sound mad at him.” Cole’s eyes lowered.
She was, in a way. But not to the extent her anger could be considered step one of the grieving process. She was... upset that Cole would even consider it was his fault... a strong sense of responsibility his father had had as well. “I don’t mean to be upset with your dad. But I think it’s okay to think that Dad might have been more in control of the moment than you think.”
Cole’s longish brown hair jerked back and forth as he shook his head. “It’s not his fault. He had to take some time to tell me to get on the quad. He might have made it, if he hadn’t needed to do that.”
Ah. “Cole, it was Dad’s time. You couldn’t control what happened. You had nothing to do with it. I promise. Now I think we all need to rest. We’ve been up for a very long time.” She would have to make dinner in a few hours and the kids looked like she felt. Their shadowed eyes and downturned lips, sunken in cheeks and slow movements testified to the fatigue of the last twelve hours.
Cole didn’t argue which solidified naps. One more trailer to put away and she could lie down as well.
Rachel released her son who disappeared into the back hallway toward his and Beau’s room.
Three bedrooms and one bath, a pantry, makeshift laundry room and storage area and a hidden escape hatch made up the rooms in the back portion of the hill. Closest to the kitchen, the pantry was stocked with food and supplies as well as outfitted with an in-ground icebox.
Ice wasn’t involved. One day Andy had left his bottled water inside a crevice while he worked. He’d forgotten about it until later and sent one of the kids to retrieve it. Unscrewing the cap, he’d swigged a mouthful of ice crystals in the water.
Deep in the dirt, the ground never completely thawed. And with the underground spring burbling feet from the home, the cool temperature was easy to hold, ideal for the summer but would test them through winter-like weather.
Her icebox was green, never used any energy from the solar panels Andy had backpacked in for electricity.
She hoped they wouldn’t need the wood fireplace Andy had set up to spread smoke into twelve different chimney pipes along the ground so it wouldn’t give away the location of the house. His mechanical engineering degree had come in handier than they’d thought possible.
Outside, the air was a touch warmer, but not enough to take off more than one layer of clothing. Rachel eyed the trailer, unsure if anything made completely of aluminum and steel would be light enough to move by hand. But if Cole could do the other one, then for the love, she could, too. She crouched down and put some force into lifting the tongue of the wagon. Empty, the trailer flipped up like a misshapen teeter-totter and back down on her toe. Rachel gasped at the pain. Wow, it was turning into one doozie of a day. Could it get any worse? Andy was the one who did this crap. Not her. Andy... where are you?
Applause echoed through the trees. Rachel whirled and stepped closer to the door. Her smaller .223 was inside, loaded and ready to be discharged. Her pulse raced and she had no qualms killing to protect her babies. Heck, she had sworn it not too long ago.
Tanned skin and blonde hair spiked from under the edge of his cowboy hat. The man was familiar but too far away to see the details of his face. The distance shortened, but Rachel couldn’t place him. She orbited around the door, keeping her body between him and her kids as he moved closer.
“I didn’t know women could lift a metal trailer. Are you Superwoman?” He drawled the last question, hooking his hands in his front pockets.
Dang her inability to hide even the mildest emotion – according to Andy. She averted her face to check on the gun. Polite women were dead women. She didn’t reply, just eyed him and stepped forward to push him back. He didn’t budge.
He raised his eyebrows and looked over his camo encased shoulder. A glance tossed toward the sky and he stepped under the tree at the front of the house. “Do you mind if I come in? I’ll store the trailer, but we need to get out of sight. Excessive movement could catch their eye and I don’t want to do that just yet.”
Come in? He wanted in her house? Where her kids rested... Who were “they”? And how did they know Rachel and her kids were even out this far? She and Andy had been so careful... “Who are you?”
“Rachel, it’s me. Joshua Hughes? Andy’s friend? I’ve been helping him for over a year. I haven’t changed that much.” He threw a furtive glance around the clearing. “Can we talk about this inside?”
His blue eyes focused on her and a jolt traveled the length of her spine. Not... “Jay? But Andy didn’t mention you were up here. Wha —” She’d left him at the university. Him and all the memories, the surreptitious glances, the pangs of longing when he jogged by without a shirt, the uncomfortable shifting when he’d walk into the dorm room and interrupted a make-out session. “I don’t...” Rachel cleared her throat and dug her fingernails into her palm. Andy was lucky at the moment he was dead... she wanted to kill him.
The distance between them narrowed and panic overthrew her thought process. She didn’t worry about him as a stranger anymore, no, Rachel worried about what he would do with his hands if he found out Andy was out of the picture.
She backed into the doorway and reached behind the wall to grab the Glock 23. The stubby body fit her hand, an extension after the many hours in the woods and on the shooting range. And rolled her eyes. She wasn’t going to shoot him.
But she was irritated and the kids were inside washing up. And dang, she didn’t like the exaggerated reminder that Andy was dead by mere hours.
Two yards away, his focus shifted and he turned to back into the house, watching the perimeter, the sky, anything and everything but where he should have had his attention. Her hand rose into position and yielded little when his back pushed against the barrel. His hands popped up to his sides like flags. He froze.
“Good, you remember me.” He sighed. “Do we really need to rehash everything? Andy and I got passed it, can’t you and I?”
Rachel didn’t answer. She’d been teasing, that’s all. Playing, but the moment had lost itself in the conversation. She opened her mouth, but he cut her off.
“I helped Andy build this place. I live just up the way.” Nothing moved. “He had to have mentioned that I was helping.” He glanced over his shoulder, his eyebrows raised.
She’d never heard Andy mention Jay. But he had mentioned... “Hughes? Not the same Hughes who shot at loggers on his land?” Andy had spoken of Hughes every chance he could, especially after a weekend working on the cabin. He’d never mentioned Jay. But Hughes and Jay being the same person explained why Andy never pushed having her up with him to work on the cabin.
“The same. Can I come in?” He didn’t lower his hands until she’d removed the pistol from his back.
“Yes.” Rachel clipped the safety and tucked the piece into the waist band of her jeans. She offered a tight smile. “A girl can never be too careful. Sorry, Jay.”
“It’s Josh, now. I haven’t been Jay since college.” Turning around, Josh’s smile eased her tension. “No worries. I’d be upset with Andy, if he hadn’t prepared you. Seems like you can handle a gun. Where’s Andy? He didn’t mention me?”
“Your name didn’t come up often.” She left it at that. He didn’t need to know about the separation and near divorce at the beginning of her marriage because of him. No guy should have that much draw.
He followed her inside and took a seat at the picnic-style table Andy had built into the wall. She avoided meeting his gaze, looking instead at her fingers wrestling each other in her lap. “Andy... Um, well.” How did she speak words she wasn’t really comfortable thinking? The first time had to come and why not when she was still numb from the shock? “On our way here, we stopped and he ran into a house... on fire to save some... some people and...” Rachel swallowed, “...and the house fell in on itself before Andy made it out.” Not too bad, she’d made it through the initial declaration. And without tears. Maybe she was tougher than she thought.
Josh leaned away from the table. His cheeks slackened, pupils dilated. “Not Andy.”
Rachel nodded. She’d done well so far, why push it? She patted his hand resting on the table. If she had to console one more person over her husband’s death, she was going to shoot something.
Jaw tight, Josh averted his gaze to the middle of the floor. Was he crying? Oh, no. A grown man crying would break down her barriers and she’d... seriously? Rachel swiped at the unwelcome tears. She rested her head in her hands and sobbed in bursts and gasps. “What is going on? I was safe twelve hours ago and now my husband is dead, we’re under attack and the world is ending. The only thing Andy talked about was the possible attacks and war and being prepared. I thought I wanted it to happen just so he’d shut up and stop talking about it, but now that it’s here, I’d much rather go back to listening to him rant and rave over dinner.” She gasped against the deep pain ripping through her. Odd that she’d share her grief with Jay – wait, Josh.
Silence brooked no argument and Rachel lifted her head when Josh shifted in his seat. “What? Did I miss something?”
“No. It’s terrible. But I think you need to brace yourself,” he leaned toward her, “it’s going to get a lot worse.” He moved his finger as if to etch the words on the table.
Unbelievable. Her stomach clenched. “How? Oh, crap, is this one of your conspiracy theories you worked on Andy? He used to come home freaked out sometimes and the next day go out and buy ammo or insulated sleeping bags. How much money did you fleece out of him for sky-falling-scares?” Out of nowhere her tears of sadness turned to anger.
Andy had taken out a second job to pay for items that would “green” their cabin, more gadgets and survival tools to pack in the trailers, more and more and she and the kids had seen Andy less and less. And he’d made good money with his first job.
The majority of buying sprees fell after visits into the forests and helping Josh. How much time had her family lost because of Josh?
Her anger was misplaced, she had enough sense to understand that, but more than enough anger to not care.
“Conspiracy theories? That suggests it isn’t true. Did you happen to look around while you drove up here? Did it look theoretical to you?” He bit his words off beneath the wipes of his arm across his face. Rachel gave him a moment, pretended it was sweat and not tears he swiped at.
“You didn’t come up with this one.” She scoffed and shrugged off the look he shot her way. She didn’t want to hear from his mouth the same things Andy had spouted. A portable gun reloader and unregistered weapons were crazy. Crazy, she’d said to Andy. The world is sinking, he’d said.
Her guest removed his hat, releasing shorter blond waves which fell to his cheekbones. Fingers through his hair, he sighed. “I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now. I don’t... Andy was a great friend. I’m going to miss him.”
Pulling a small radio from his front flannel pocket, Josh slid the yellow piece across the table. “We’d planned for the possibility of something like this happening. Andy has a charger in the pantry. I’ll keep mine on. You beep me if you need me and I’ll come here to check on you. Every day at this same time, I’ll come by. If you’re not here by choice, tie a red towel on the door handle before you leave.”
She didn’t know what to make of him and his “orders”. Irritation laced her tone. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need a babysitter. I’ll take the radio, but please don’t trouble to come all this way.” Andy had talked of the whereabouts of Josh’s place, but Rachel hadn’t been interested and assumed one more zealot lived in the woods of Idaho, great. She hadn’t listened – hadn’t cared. But now, seeing who Andy had hidden, she wished she would have invested more time in checking up on her husband.
“Okay. Do you need anything? Can I get you wood?” He stood, his broad shoulders drawing her eye. He wasn’t Andy. The discomfort sparked with a palpable burn between them. Rachel didn’t have a reason to be uncomfortable with him... anymore... except he was the man she’d considered leaving her boyfriend for.
The tension of the attacks and fatigue combined with the loss of her husband mounted against her. The weight was enough to snap an elephant femur.
But he was Andy’s friend who’d been dealt a load of bad news, too. He probably had left his college-day crush on her in the past. She had. She’d quiz the crap out of him later. He had to know more than he was letting on.
Rachel wasn’t lost to the grief and disbelief. She had no excuse to be rude. She pushed away from the table and ran her damp palms down the sides of her jeans. “I’m sorry. Josh, you didn’t...” A tic formed at the corner of her eyelid. “I appreciate the help. Let me settle in and we’ll ease into the neighbor thing.”
Josh tucked his chin and eyed her. “Did you get any news?”
She bit her lip. He wasn’t taking the hint to leave. She had always been terrible at the art of subtle suggestion. “A radio broadcast, sporadic at best.” Manners prevented her from telling him bluntly, but what was she supposed to say? Get the heck out, I want to mourn my husband? At least she didn’t have to go through the arduous task of securing each and every entryway Andy had developed. How had she traveled so far from the profession that made up who she was – defined how she reacted? She had more training than that. She could handle it.
“Well...”
A roar followed by a long screaming whistle broke through the uncomfortable peace between them like a hammer through an eggshell. Rachel dropped to the ground, down had to be safer than up. She breathed in and out, her clothing layers working against her as the sweat collected between her shoulder blades. “What was that?” Did she want to know? She needed to get into the bunker room. Get her kids into the room where nothing could hurt them.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” He stood from his crouched position, confident like her Andy had been. Not willing to wait for answers but on the lookout to ask more questions. The ground shook, reverberating through the mountain. The roaring stopped.
Whimpers from the back rooms called for Rachel. Of course her kids would be frightened, but she didn’t want him to leave, not yet. She turned to Josh. “Don’t go. I need help. I hate to ask, but... and we’re so tired. I don’t know how much more we can take. We should be safe here for a little bit. Do you mind? Then we can go look.”
He nodded his head, blond bangs hanging across his forehead. “I agree. Go sleep. I’ll stay on the couch.” His gaze sought hers with a promise. “I won’t leave.”
Capability to spark fear and distrust using complex riddles and puzzles was a talent Rachel had studied in college. She had children to protect and didn’t need fabricated fear to collide with actual unadulterated nightmares. In an obvious upcoming war.
She didn’t have anyone else to shoulder the scarier stuff. Using Hughes as another body between the enemy and her kids may not be the most ethical move, but Rachel didn’t care. Andy hadn’t made it which made the kids her objective and nothing more. Plus, hadn’t Andy set her up for this?
Niceties no longer mattered. She’d count on Josh to maintain honorable behavior around her family because Andy’s fondness for the man had saturated his words. By the tears in Joshua’s eyes at the news of Andy’s loss, the feelings were reciprocated. And she remembered how close they’d been. The truth of their relationship was one she may never realize.
She succumbed to the whisper in her heart that she would need help in the coming days, weeks and months. The same voice didn’t want to be alone and welcomed a friend in the crazy chaos. But could she count him as a friend?
Well, she’d better make a decision – he was staying on her couch. While she was torn by curiosity to investigate the crash, her kids wouldn’t make the trip, bogged down by fatigue and grief. Rachel refused to leave them alone. Protecting them included not only keeping them safe but also taking care of them. They were dead on their feet and needed sleep and more food. She’d contain her anxious wonderings about the sound until the kids were ready to go with her.
Deeper in the cave, where the noise was muffled, Rachel pushed open Kayli’s door. “Kayli-bayli, do you want to come lay down with me in the bunker room?” She left the door open for her daughter to follow her. At the boys’ door, she whispered the same and they followed, Beau clutching his blanket.
Nobody questioned her. Andy had run them through the same drill over and over. But just the same, her children were still kids and they had to have a breaking point. How would it elicit? Rebellion? Malcontent? Discord? Hysterics?
Small cots sprang open with the slightest touch in the master, further back in the cave. Cole climbed into his against the far wall. Kayli and Beau did the same while Rachel closed and bolted the six-inch thick lead door. Radiation, weapons, man or beast would never make it through. She’d locked Josh outside the protection and couldn’t bring herself to offer. In the small space, even with her young kids, she needed a small amount of privacy to say goodbye to her friends. Her husband.
The sound would wait. In fact, any further sound wouldn’t penetrate the room with the door closed. Could she imagine the world wasn’t burning long enough to get some sleep?
She didn’t care about any of it. Her world had already fallen apart. Screw the other stuff.
Rachel tucked each of her babies in bed. They mattered. Nothing more. Each one slid into sleep before the tears and worry about Andy could run over.
True, it was extremely early, way too early for night time, but with the small amount of sleep the night before, the trauma from leaving their home with everything they owned, their neighborhood, fire raining down on them in their flight, losing their daddy and fleeing to what may or may not be a secure place, Rachel and the kids needed rest. A chance to physically recuperate and cut out the grief as it sliced through the numbing shock.
The small light on the wall turned on and off with movement, but was dim enough to not be an issue while they slept. Rachel shoved the boxes filled with food and supplies lined up along the wall. She pulled back the sheet and climbed in. The double mattress spread out beside her, cold, immense. Andy’s absence was insurmountable.
Rachel bit the corner of the pillow while she cried silent tears.