Standing in my office at the makeshift police department, in what we were calling Downtown Riverdale, I stared at the overlapping maps of Whitehorse on my desk. I eyed an old, blown-up aerial view of the Riverdale neighborhood next. But the minutes I’d spent standing there, I wasn’t thinking about the barricades or the gangs I needed to worry about, I was thinking about Kat.
We’d worked out together a hundred times over the past couple of years, and it had never felt so painfully uncomfortable between us as it did by the time she’d left this morning. I blamed it on Elle for putting ridiculous curiosities into my head—curiosities about Kat dating and why the idea of it bothered me so much; curiosities about Kat as a woman, not just my partner; and curiosities about her and me. Were Kat and I friends? It seemed a stupid question, and the answer was yes, but she wasn’t the kind of friend I was used to having.
I leaned over and braced my palms on my desk. What the fuck was wrong with me? I’d never denied that Kat was attractive, and I had a lot of respect for her; she and I were a lot of things, but nothing romantic. She would never look at me like that, and yet, I hadn’t stopped thinking about her since she’d left my house.
The front door creaked down the hall, and I straightened. “Sorry I’m late!” Kat called, and I heard the door swing shut. “I had to talk to Jonathan about Puck real quick.” I could hear her rustling by her desk as I rubbed my temple. I would blame the bear and my lack of sleep for the distraction. “Hello?” she called.
“In here.” I cleared my throat and stared at the doorway until she stepped into it.
“I brought coffee.” She barely looked at me as she came into my office. Her eyes surveyed the maps on my desk, and she handed me a travel mug.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
Kat took a sip from hers, and I noticed her wavy blonde hair was no longer in the ponytail she’d worked out in, but in that damn bun again, and her uniform was the same as it always was—a white long sleeve shirt that stretched over her chest just so, with tactical pants, boots, and her gun in the holster at her hip. Unlike most days, though, she was smiling more than usual, and her grin widened as I lifted the travel mug she brought me to my mouth.
I raised a skeptical eyebrow as I inhaled the scent of coffee. “It doesn’t smell poisoned, but you’re smiling like it is.”
Kat rolled her eyes and took a sip of her own. “It’s only arsenic.”
I chuckled and took a pull of dark, freshly brewed roast. Kat wasn’t one for friendly gestures, whether it be a hug or a simple early morning coffee pit stop at Taylor’s shop. “You didn’t make this, so let me guess . . . Rolland saw you walking into work?”
She touched her index finger to the tip of her nose. “Bingo. He also heard about the gangs from Christine, or maybe it was from Meghann,” she said with a bit more of a bite. “Either way, he knows we have a lot of work to do, so he wanted to make sure we have sustenance.”
“Damn that woman’s mouth,” I muttered.
“Tell me about it. And,” Kat added, “I think he thought that if he plied me with coffee, I’d give him details. Only the joke’s on him because my boss isn’t very forthcoming with plans, so I had nothing to divulge.”
“That’s because I didn’t have one until now,” I told her.
Kat widened her stance and crossed her arms over her chest as she peered down at the unfurled maps again. “Okay then, what’s the plan?”
“Well, it depends. Where do we want to start—the main entrance or the connecting bridge by your place, between the hydro plant and the fish ladder? The main entrance is more obvious, but the small bridge is closer to the neighborhoods—”
“Only if they’re coming from the south, and if you know it’s there,” Kat pointed out. “It’s not on any maps, and I don’t see a band of reprobates taking a tour of the hydro plant anytime soon. The bridge into Riverdale, however, is more obvious. And if someone can sense body heat or Abilities, they’ll know we’re congregating here.” She pointed to Lowes Boulevard. “I say we start the barricades here, at the main entrance, since it will be a larger project too.”
I stared at her. It made sense, but it bothered me that she was closer to the other entry point.
Without glancing up from the map, she said, “You’re looking at me funny again, I can feel it.”
I forced my glare away. “It’s nothing.” I walked over to my desk and grabbed a notepad and pen. “Why don’t you cross-reference the census to see which Abilities would be the most useful in the construction of the larger barricade? We’ll vet a list, then make rounds to talk to people this afternoon and get them on board to help roll this project out as soon as possible.”
Kat nodded. “Sure thing, boss,” she said, knowing I hated it when she called me that. “What are you going to do?”
“I need to make a list of materials we’ll need and figure out if we have them here, or if we have to make a trip.”
“Got it. I’m on it.” Kat took a sip from her coffee and headed toward her desk in the front. She was the lead of our makeshift command center of sorts, in an old office building at the edge of the neighborhood. It was a more centrally located and smaller, satellite version of what we had at the prison. City council was held in the conference room down the hall, and while Jackson and I shared an office, Kat and Phil shared the front.
There wasn’t a single word on my list of supplies when I heard the crash of the front door open. “Ross!” Beau’s voice rang out, and I jumped out of my chair and ran into the hall. Beau glanced around with wide, shimmering blue eyes.
“What is it?” Kat said, jumping up from her desk.
“Sophie said to hurry, something’s wrong with Mrs. Filmore.” She was the other, older teacher who had been ailing since she came to our settlement over a year ago.
“Shit.” Absently checking for my gun, I ran from the building, into the gray morning. For the hundredth time, I was grateful our hamlet was still small enough that everything was so close.
Sprinting across the street, I leaped over the curb and rushed into the elementary school building we were using to teach all grades. Kat and Beau were somewhere behind me as I followed the anxious cries and pleas of the students in the classroom down the hall.
“Out of the way,” I told them as I rushed inside. I moved Thea out of the way to find Mrs. Filmore lying on the ground, her eyes barely blinking as she looked dazedly around the classroom. It was her lungs. No doubt they were finally giving up on her; and as I grabbed for her discarded oxygen, she meekly lifted her hand, pushing mine away. Her head lulled to the right and the left in defiance as her eyes rolled back into her head.
“What’s happening?” Thea whimpered.
“Is she dying?” another girl squeaked. The kids were crying and demanding reassurance as Sophie tried to usher them out of the room.
The moment Kat ran in with the first aid kit in her hand, I nodded for her to help Sophie with the kids. “And shut the door,” I told her, wanting to be locked inside with the dying old woman, alone.
Kat hesitated. “But, Ross—”
“Do it, Kat,” I commanded, and then I refocused on Mrs. Filmore as she took a shaky, shallow breath. “Here you go,” I whispered, and placed a balled-up jacket beneath her head. It was better than the linoleum flooring.
I could feel it on her, the heavy cloud of death against her chest and filling her mind. Mrs. Filmore didn’t have long. I stood and pulled the shawl off the back of her desk chair, then crouched back down and draped it over her to help stave off some of the chill.
“It will be okay, Mrs. Filmore,” I breathed, staring into her glassy, gray eyes. “It will be okay.” I squeezed her hand, hating what I knew would come the moment I let it in, but I knew what Mrs. Filmore had been through—all that she’d lost, and how she’d been suffering to survive ever since the outbreak. She’d reached her end, and I was going to make it as painless as I could for her.
Holding her hand against my chest, I nodded. “Breathe with me,” I said softly, feeling the coolness of her clammy hands seep into mine. “That’s it . . . You’ll feel better soon.”
Letting Mrs. Filmore’s soul into mine triggered a domino strand of images from the lives I’d felt before—what was left of Kelsey’s shattered soul as it left this world; JJ’s pain, and her heart, riddled with unrest—and my eyes blurred with a broken dam of emotions. Regret. Relief. Longing. Anguish. Anger.
I felt the wash of desperate sadness and fear as Mrs. Filmore learned her husband wasn’t coming back from the Korean War decades ago, and she’d be a single mother of four. I felt the misery and sickening sense of loss as her ailing granddaughter, who she’d raised, lay in a lifeless heap in her arms after losing a battle with cancer. I felt her relief in knowing she would soon see her again, and I allowed Mrs. Filmore to hold on to that peace as what little life was left in her leached from her body, through me, and into nothing. I took away the cold, and I took away the darkness, until all she could feel was weightless relief.
The instant Mrs. Filmore was gone, the heaviness inside of me lightened, though the toll had been taken. My mind and heart were a roiling storm, my limbs heavy with exhaustion. I felt like a punching bag, battered by assaulting memories. My stomach churned and my body hummed with the influx of energy, and I leaned against the desk.
“Ross . . .” Kat’s voice was small beside me and riddled with apprehension.
Opening my eyes, I watched as she covered Mrs. Filmore’s ashen face with the shawl.
Knowing I couldn’t sit in the middle of class a crumpled heap, I dropped Mrs. Filmore’s hand and struggled to climb to my feet.
“Here,” Kat said, straining under my weight as she used her body to support me. I hated that she even had to help me, that I felt weak, and yet, Kat was a welcome warmth against the iciness of my skin.
It had been three years since I’d done something like that. Three years since JJ’s death, and seeing the look of horror and hatred burning in Kat’s eyes. I dreaded to look at her again for fear of what I’d see in them now. But I did, and it wasn’t hatred this time, but sympathy as she watched my body shake.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said as I braced myself against the edge of the desk.
“I wanted to,” I told her. She rested her hand on my shoulder, though I wasn’t sure it was want so much as what I felt compelled to do because I could.
“You give me shit about not practicing and being reckless with my Ability—”
“That’s completely different.”
“No, it’s not. And you can’t go around doing that for everyone. You have no idea what toll it really takes on you and—”
My eyes shot to hers. “It’s my burden to bear,” I told her, and with a sigh, I shook my head. “I just—need a minute, okay?” Every nerve felt like it was buzzing with emotion overload, and my body hummed as it all came too close to the surface. I felt light-headed and sat on the desk. “Don’t let the kids in here yet,” I told her. The last thing I wanted was a rush of tears and shrieks. “We need to get Mrs. Filmore out of here—”
“I’ll deal with it,” she said, more coldly than before. “Just . . . sit down before you fall over and I have to explain to them why the chief police officer keeled over too.” She pushed Mrs. Filmore’s chair over to me.
As I lowered myself into it, I heard Kat sigh. “Ross,” she whispered, and I hated how frail I felt under the weight of her concern.
“Just give me a minute, okay, Kat?” I said, rubbing my temple.
She stared at me; I could feel her gaze burning a hole in the back of my head. “I’ll tell Sophie to keep everyone in the hallway until you’re ready for them to come in,” she finally said, a little roughly. “And don’t worry about Mrs. Filmore. I’ll get Rolland, he can help me move her.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I nodded. Tears stung the backs of my eyes as the frenetic energy inside me fed off every nerve ending; all-consuming in a way I hadn’t felt in so long, it was harder to push it away.
“Ross—”
“Go, Kat!” I snapped, over my shoulder.
“Fine. Sorry for caring,” she muttered. Without another word, Kat stepped out into the hallway, shutting me inside with Mrs. Filmore and a head-splitting feeling of regret.