Nicole, in tight-fitting jeans, a black windbreaker, and clean hiking boots, coughed into a fist, an awful hacking sound that came from deep within her chest. Hands on her knees, she hunched over and groaned.
“Sorry,” she said. “The smoke is really bad. We could smell it a bit in the garage, but I didn’t expect it to be like this.”
The smoke made Jenn want to cough, too, but her throat hurt so much already. This must be how Maria felt—fighting for every breath. She hoped the air quality was better in Flagstaff.
“It’s coming from the city.” Jenn remembered her dream, the one where her house in Peoria was on fire. “That’s what my billet thinks, anyway, and he’d know.”
“Was he in the military or something?”
She imagined Gary in uniform. He was stern and disciplined enough for the Marines, though she couldn’t picture him screaming at eighteen-year-old privates. He was too mild-mannered for that. “No, a cop in Phoenix. He’s just in love with World War Two.”
“Oh,” was all Nicole said. If her house in Arcadia had somehow survived the bombs, it had most likely succumbed to the fires by now. Nearly seven million people lived in the Phoenix metro area. Well, had lived. If the smoke was this dense here, only two hours up the road, how could anyone in the city still be alive? Dying in the initial blast might even be preferable to dying of smoke inhalation or terrible burns. Jenn hoped her parents felt no pain and didn’t suffer.
Carrying a flashlight, Nicole led them through a dirt hiking path flanked by bushy trees and thin pines. The ray of white light reflected off the haze the way headlights reflected off morning fog in Flagstaff. The sight of the moon, ablaze in bloodred, sent goosebumps spreading along Jenn’s forearms.
“Just over here.” Nicole stepped off the trail and through some brush, then down a gentle bank. At the bottom lay large, smooth stones interspersed with pebbles and mud. Water, almost still and barely two inches deep, wound around the rocks.
She slung off her backpack, pulled out a bottle, and angled its mouth into the stream. Jenn did the same with a one-gallon milk jug. The water was cool, a welcome reprieve after her twelve-hour hike today.
“I told you this already,” Nicole said after a minute or two, “but it means a lot that you and Sam came.”
“Of course we came. Why wouldn’t we?”
“I don’t know. I never really doubted you’d come. It’s just hard for Sam.”
“What is?” Jenn asked. Her first jug full, she screwed on the cap and took out a second.
Chewing a nail like Sam always did, Nicole said, “The family. Mom. Sam’s old enough to remember our dad a bit more. Guess I got off easy.”
Golden child. Jenn pressed her lips together to suppress a laugh. “He never talks about it much.”
Nicole narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “He calls me the golden child, doesn’t he?”
Before Jenn could lie on Sam’s behalf, her cheeks flushed. “Yeah. Don’t tell him I said that. He might kill me.”
“I won’t. And it’s okay. I know I was. I feel bad for not seeing it earlier.” She pulled her water bottle out of the creek and attached the lid. “I’m worried about her. My mom. She’s sick.”
“Sam calls her a narcissist.”
A muscle in Nicole’s neck twitched, and her mouth bent into a deep frown. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t sick. It’s an illness.” She forced her next empty bottle into the water with a loud splash. “Sam refuses to see it that way. We’ve been trying antidepressants and anxiety medication. Sometimes it works for a bit and she gets a little better. Then it’ll stop and we’ll try something different.” Her shoulders sank as she huffed and deflated. “I want to help her. I love Sam, but I hate that he ran away and cut her out of his life.”
“You went to California,” Jenn said, then regretted it. It sounded accusatory, even to her ears. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know.” She drew circles in the water with a finger. “Berkeley has a good pre-med program. I’m interested in how the brain works, because of my mom. I want to understand what’s happening to her. I had the grades and Kevin offered to help pay, so I applied. I didn’t really expect to get in, but I wasn’t going to turn down an opportunity like that. Plus, it’s been nice to be on my own for once.”
Jenn twisted the cap onto her last water bottle. Memories of Sam running after Derek and Tara rushed to the front of her mind. “I’m worried about him.”
“Sam? Why?”
She found a dry patch of stone and sat with her arms resting on her knees. “When everything first happened, he only wanted to help me and my billets. He didn’t even mention you or your mom. I mean, he knew you were here and probably safe, but I don’t get it. He got into two fights for me.”
“I noticed the cut on his lip. Pretty sure he’d never been in a fight.”
“Right? And then today, on our way to the cabin, we heard someone screaming. Sam just took off and tried to help. He didn’t know if it was dangerous or if he could’ve gotten hurt.”
Nicole set her jug aside, then sat cross-legged in the pebbles. “Believe it or not, that sounds like Sam to me.”
“Really?”
She shook her head, grinning. “Back when I was in junior high—I must have been like fifteen or something—there was this guy, Trevor, who kept asking me out. Like a million times I told him no, I wasn’t interested, but he wouldn’t leave me alone. At the spring dance that year, he tried kissing me. I pushed him away and handled it, but when I told Sam, he freaked out. Came to my school without telling me and was looking for Trevor.” She held her ankles and rocked back and forth. “To get him to leave, I threatened to call the police.”
Two days ago, picturing Sam storming through the halls of Nicole’s school, ready to throw punches, would have been impossible, but after all they’d been through, the image formed in her mind all too easily. Yet hearing that Sam’s behavior came as no surprise to his sister gave Jenn a measure of relief. She already knew that he was loyal and brave, and she loved that about him, but before the bombs, those traits rarely had the opportunity to show themselves. Maybe this Sam, the one who put himself in danger to protect others, was the real Sam and she was only now meeting him for the first time.
“Deep down,” Nicole continued, “he’s always had that wannabe hero in him. But I could be wrong.” She laughed a little, mostly to herself, Jenn thought. “Listen to me. I’ve taken two psych courses and I think I’m Freud or something.”
“That’s okay. A couple days ago, I compared my family to Schrödinger’s cat.”
Nicole snorted like she was trying to keep herself from laughing. “How does that even work?”
“It doesn’t.” Jenn carved a line in the mud with the heel of her shoe. “It was the worst metaphor ever.”
“Did Sam hear you say it?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Ouch,” Nicole joked. “I guess we’re not as smart as we think, huh?” She found a stone and turned it over in her fingers. “I’m sorry about your family.”
Jenn’s throat tightened as a torrent of guilt flooded her belly. In all the chaos today, she’d hardly thought about Mom and Dad. “Me too.”
“I’m here if you want to talk. Like, we just met, so if it’s weird, no problem. You don’t have to—”
Jenn held up a hand to stop her. “No, it’s not weird. I appreciate it. I was thinking about this earlier. It feels like I’ve known you forever already. That’s probably weirder.”
“I don’t think so. Sam’s always so excited when he talks about you. You’re perfect for each other.”
With a flick of her wrist, Jenn brushed imaginary dust off her shoulder. “What can I say? I’m a pretty good catch.”
“You joke about it,” Nicole said, her face stone serious, “but you are.”
Jenn hoped so. Her mind wandered to her argument with Sam, when she used his upbringing against him. The words had fallen out of her mouth, and now, after she’d met Nicole, the simple thought of them made her sick. Yes, Sam and Nicole came from a different world—a world without modular housing, metal detectors at school, needles in the park, and hand-me-down clothes—but these were selfless and caring people.
“Thanks. That means a lot.”
“No problem.” Nicole wiped her hands on the sides of her pants. “Ready to go? We should try and get some sleep tonight.”
Jenn zipped up her backpack. “Probably a good idea. Lead the way.”
They ascended the bank. At the top, on the hiking path, Nicole said, “Can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
Her eyes found the Glock on Jenn’s hip. “Where did that gun come from? I mean, I don’t have a problem with it. I’m just not used to seeing them. How did you learn how to use it?”
“My billet, Gary. He was a cop. It’s his and he taught me. I didn’t really want to, but he’s insistent when he gets fixated on something. I’m not an expert or anything. I only really know enough not to shoot myself.”
Nicole adjusted the strap on her backpack and continued down the path, apparently satisfied with that answer. “That’s good. I hope you never have to use it.”
“Yeah,” Jenn said, resisting the urge to shiver. “Me too.”
—
Jenn’s eyes shot open. Sweat ran down her cheeks as she stared into the darkness, her arms and legs tingling with adrenaline. Sound asleep, Sam lay beside her.
Had something woken her up? She listened for a car alarm, a horn, or other traffic noises, but this was Payson, not the city, and she hadn’t seen a working vehicle since the roadblock on the highway. What else could it have been? Sometimes, Gary and Maria’s fridge thumped and buzzed at night, but the cabin’s fridge was downstairs and the power was out. Ajax occasionally woke her up by kneading her stomach right above her bladder or by sprawling across her ankles. But no cat lived here.
For what she swore was an hour, possibly more, she stared at the ceiling, listening to Sam’s rhythmic snoring. Whenever she struggled to sleep at home or at the Ruiz house, moving to the couch in the living room sometimes helped. Maybe it would work here.
She slipped out of bed and found her flashlight on the nightstand, then Gary’s gun. Briefly, she hesitated, then decided to take it with her. After all, Gary had stressed the importance of keeping it close.
When she and Nicole returned from the creek, Sam had pots on the barbecue in the backyard. Thankfully, the propane tank was full, so they turned on a burner and boiled the water. It still tasted a little like dirt, but it was safe to drink, so she poured herself a glass and went to the couch in the living room. There, she draped a blanket over her lap and set the gun on the table, within arm’s reach.
She took in the stone fireplace, the wooden beams along the ceiling, and the empty wine rack in the corner. Too bad Sam couldn’t have taken her here under better circumstances, in a time before the depression, the war, and the bombs. This house was beautiful, a relic of a prosperous age long past for most Americans.
Flashlight off, she lay down and pictured Gary and Maria waiting at the kitchen table in Flagstaff. They’d expected her home by dinner, and now, certainly, Maria would be worried sick. Good thing Gary had given his car to Carla, or else he might have left his wife alone and driven to Payson in search of Jenn and Sam. He might have even taken the same route and fallen for the same trap on the switchback near Strawberry.
She yawned, shut her eyes, and wrapped herself tightly in the blanket. It smelled sweet, like the fruity candle, and was soft on her skin. Soon, she felt herself drifting off to sleep, but a ticking sound jolted her awake.
Her body stiffened. At first, she thought the sound, whatever it was, had been part of a dream. Yet when she strained to listen, she heard it again.
Tick.
It came from the sliding glass door leading to the patio. She pushed the blanket aside, careful not to make any sudden movements, and rolled onto her stomach so she could peek over the armrest of the couch.
A shadowy figure stood outside, fiddling with the door.
Instinct forced her flat to the couch. Hidden behind the armrest, she heard more ticking. And muffled voices. She couldn’t understand the words, but there were two speakers. Who were they? More junkies? And what were they looking for? Water? Food? The SUV was still parked out front. Were these people here to steal it? Unless they could hack its computer, like those men on the highway, they’d need the keys, which Sam had brought upstairs.
On the table, the gun caught her eye. She could reach for it but would have to be fast. There was already a round in the chamber, meaning the weapon was ready to fire.
While she debated how best to make her move, the ticking stopped and the voices grew more distant.
She forced herself to peek over the armrest once more but saw no one, only the barbecue and the patio furniture, both bathed in faint orange from the moon overhead. The haze of the smoke obscured the fence and the trees beyond.
Should she dart upstairs and wake Sam? Someone could still be watching her, so it might not be safe to leave this couch. Maybe she should yell instead. That would alert the entire family, though, as well as the junkies or thieves outside. They had likely assumed that everyone here was fast asleep. That meant Jenn had the element of surprise. If they came inside, she could—
A jiggling sound echoed down the hallway.
Adrenaline numbed her extremities. Motionless, she listened and waited for the door to break down or the windows to shatter, but the jiggling stopped and the voices went quiet.
She checked the patio. No sign of the junkies, so she darted for the sliding glass doors and confirmed that they were locked, then drew the blinds. Back in her spot on the couch, she swiped the Glock off the table and listened for any more noises coming from outside. Several minutes passed. She heard nothing, and the adrenaline began to subside. She considered telling Sam and Nicole what happened, but what good would that do, other than frighten them?
After a while, sleep threatened to take her, but she refused to nod off. She stayed awake by pinching the skin on her thigh, counting to fifteen, then pinching again.
How had everything fallen apart so quickly? First, she and Sam were carjacked on the highway. Twelve hours later, they witnessed a robbery in town. Now would-be thieves were attempting to break into the cabin.
They couldn’t stay here in Payson. She had to be honest with herself, though: the chances of finding a charger that survived the EMP were slim, and the SUV would likely die. They could walk to Flagstaff, but she doubted Barbara could manage a trek that long, especially in this smoke; a mere twenty seconds of exposure had sent her into a dizzy. Like Sam had said, on foot, the trip would take days. On top of that, they’d have to carry supplies, camp in the woods at night, and somehow avoid the monsters who now preyed on travelers and Payson residents alike.
Jenn wondered if even she could handle a journey like that.