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A siren went off causing Maisey to almost drop the hot trays of rolls she was taking out of the oven. “What is that?” she squealed.
“Didn’t you get the booklet?” Mary asked. “Siren means a storm’s coming in. We need to close up and take shelter.” She stopped loading the oven.
“What kind of storm?” Maisey asked as she slid the trays onto the cooling racks. The wailing seemed to be announcing an emergency, but Mary didn’t look overly bothered by it. “What about the bread?”
Mary shut down the ovens. “If they sounded the siren, it means take shelter. Can’t do anything about the bread.”
“But it’ll be ruined.” Maisey stared at the second round of loaves that were just starting to rise.
“Possibly. If they are, we can send them up to Holly Hill Farm for the pigs. But you can’t ignore the siren.” Mary pulled the pans of dough back out of the oven stacking them on a counter. “We’ll deal with it afterwards.”
The sky was dark when they left the bakery. A brisk wind blew damp air against Maisey when she stepped into the street. “Where do I go?”
“Home,” said one of Mary’s assistants as he trotted off in the opposite direction.
“Where’s that supposed to be?” Maisey mumbled. She didn’t feel that the Transition Center was home. She saw Martin go into a building down the street and followed out of curiosity. A few fat drops of rain plopped on her head as she scurried after him.
The building turned out to be full of offices. She wandered the first floor, but all the rooms were empty. She heard a door slam, and someone ran up steps. Taking that as a cue, she found the staircase and went up a flight. The landing door was open, and she could hear voices in the hallway. She hesitated because it sounded like there were a lot of people up there and maybe she wasn’t supposed to see what they were doing. A door slammed below her making the decision for her. Someone was coming up the steps toward her. She walked through the door like she belonged.
There were a few people in the hallway, but the voices were actually coming from a large room. Her first impression was the controlled chaos of a battle command. People were on phones and radios. The livewall at the front of the room had a map on it, and people were tagging it with colored flags. No one paid any attention to her, so she slipped into an unoccupied corner to watch. Men and women called out information that was tallied and acknowledged.
“Have the Rover Stations all called in?”
“Doing a headcount now.”
“Kin of the Earth say they’ve got hail and high winds.”
“Fragrant Meadow is off line.”
“Holly Hill says they’re battened down, but the wind’s bad, and the spring oats are still in the field.”
“Did the warning go out to the new settlement?”
She stood mesmerized by the functioning of this well-oiled machine. It really was a war room, but the enemy was a storm. Martin stepped into the room, but didn’t go any further. She got the feeling that he was looking for something. He saw her and came over.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. His voice was calm, so she didn’t think she was in trouble.
“I wasn’t sure where I was supposed to go. I saw you come in here.”
“You’re supposed to go home when you hear the siren. Didn’t Mary tell you?”
“I’m not sure where home is,” she said with a bit more emotion than she’d meant to.
Martin leaned against the wall next to her. “Is the Transition Center that bad?”
Her throat was too tight to speak calmly, so she just shrugged. He put an arm around her shoulders. “Are you okay?”
She allowed herself to lean against him, but that was almost worse. She’d seen these people, and they were all decent. She didn’t have to fear that they were going to rape or enslave her. A tension she’d carried for years was starting to crumble, and it was achingly painful. “You really are the good guys,” she said through gritted teeth.
Martin’s arm tightened for a second. “I understand. Some days I can’t believe it myself. We’ve all been through so much that it’s hard to relax your reflexes. Always looking for the knife in the back, or at the least, a sucker punch.”
She bit her lip, taking long breaths to force the tears back down.
“Come with me,” Martin said. He took her hand and led her out of the room and down the hall. He brought her into another room where just an old man and woman were working at a table. They glanced up at Martin expectantly.
“Nothing to report yet,” he said.
They went back to the papers they were conferring over.
He led her to a snack table where he poured two cups of coffee. “How do you take it?”
“Black.”
A smile crooked up the corner of his mouth. “Me, too.” With the cups in hand, he led the way back out of the room and down the hall to an office. “This one’s mine.” He set her coffee on a side table by a pair of armchairs. “Learned this from Angus,” he said, taking a seat in one of the comfortable chairs.
She sat in the other. The chairs were angled for conversation. “Learned what?”
“That meetings don’t have to be long and uncomfortable.”
She sipped her coffee. “Thanks for this.”
“Sometimes you just need a little quiet time, so your brain can catch up with you.”
She snorted a laugh. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What you see is what you get around here. It hits people differently. Some people are ready for it the minute they arrive. Other people steal food that is freely given and hide out in houses that are falling down when they could be assigned something nicer. They aren’t ready to return to civilization. They’ve been scrambling for survival too long. Living rough, fighting raiders, eating old train food, whatever, they just aren’t able to make the transition.”
A crack of thunder rumbled overhead rattling the building. “Should we go?”
“No, this building is rated for a tornado. That’s why we picked it. And it’s probably not a good idea to go out now anyway.”
She nodded and took another sip of coffee. “So we’re here for the duration?” She wondered what his intent had been. Did he bring her here where they could be alone?
“I usually have to work through a storm, but I can find you a place to rest if you want.”
“No, I’d like to help.”
“We’re pretty well set up. We use a bunch of kids for runners. And since we set up the phones, that’s helped a lot.”
“No need for a chocolatier?” she asked with a smile.
He shifted in his seat putting his coffee down on the side table. “Look, we’re all damaged, right?”
“Uh huh.”
“I wasn’t good at this before Zero Year,” he mumbled shaking his head.
Maisey felt a peculiar flutter in her stomach. “Yeah, me neither,” she said. Her voice sounded almost angry, and that was not the way she meant it. “I mean...”
“Yeah,” he agreed with a small shake of the head. “And since Zero Year we’re all broken ten times over. Lots of baggage.” His voice faded out and even though he wasn’t looking at her, she could see the sadness in his face.
“Makes it hard to even think about normal,” she said softly. The moment stretched too long, but neither of them moved. She reached over and took his hand. “I don’t know what I can handle.”
“Me neither,” he said with a shy glance at her.
“I think I’d like to try,” she said even though a part of her was screaming at her to stop.
“Me, too, but I don’t know if I can. I had plenty of baggage before Zero Year.”
“Does it matter?” she asked with a rueful laugh. “Like you said, we’re all broken. Sometimes I can’t even remember who I used to be. For a long time, all I could think about was staying alive. I still wake up in a fright thinking someone might be stalking me.” She let go of his hand and picked up her mug again. “I don’t have any plans or expectations. Maybe we can just meet for coffee and talk.” She wondered if he’d turn her down. He probably wanted more out of a relationship than she was able to give right now.
He smiled at her. His warm brown eyes crinkled at the corner. “I think I’d like that.”