The Survivors: Book One (26 page)

5

A short time later, Angela jerked out of a deep sleep, the first she’d had since leaving Cincinnati. Weak alarm bells blared in her head for the second time in the same night, and she pushed herself up, but the door in her mind refused to swing open. She was too tired.

Marc woke the second she sat up, heart thumping at the sight of his dream woman with sleep still on her.

“We have to get out of here.”

He began to pull on his boots, not hesitating, and the clink of his dog tag caught her ear as he stood up to fasten the jeans he’d discreetly loosened. The sexy strip of hair that ran from his flat, tanned stomach to his groin kept her attention, and she snatched in a surprised breath at the clear chill of desire that went through her. It had been a long time since she’d felt anything even close to passion.

“What is it?”

Angela shook her head, tearing her eyes away as she grabbed her blankets, sweater, and the heater. “I can’t tell. Big and fast, whatever it is.”

She moved toward the ladder, leaving the rest of her things. She could hear Dog whining impatiently in the darkness below. Whatever it was, the wolf felt it. Angela climbed down quickly, going for the door.

“Oh, my God!”

That instantly drew Marc from gathering their things, and he stopped in the doorway behind her, stunned.

Thick, orange flames licked up dying trees and the porch rails of the house, branches flaming in every direction. Even the air was burning, fat drops of acid rain catching fire before they hit a burning branch or rail. It looked like the sky was on fire from the ground up, tiny sparks moving into the night like flames following gasoline.

The rear of the garage was sending up smoke, telling Marc that direction wasn’t safe either, and his sharp mind began to search for an exit.

Angie was still frozen, and Marc gave her a nudge as a wave of thick, black smoke gusted toward them, noticing she cringed away from him even in a moment of danger. “Back the way we came, and stay on my ass!”

They were rolling a few seconds later, tires moving over hot, smoldering branches and limbs that had already fallen. The smoke grew steadily thicker, making it harder and harder to see as they drove by smoking cabins and tall, flaming trees that threw hot showers of sparks on their vehicles as they sped by. Neither noticed the bullets that slammed by, all barely missing the tires they were aimed for, hitting the ground with hard, quiet thuds that couldn’t be heard over the crackling, popping roar of the fire around them.

Smoke rolled across the road in thick waves, flames blocking their way in places, and Marc was forced to lead them in and out of trees that had become horrible, burning torches.

Dead limbs fell, thumping to the ground in geysers of flaming debris and Angela followed him tensely, heart in her throat. They’d almost burned! It was hot and smoky, her back and face sweaty, cheeks streaked with soot, and Angela tried to keep her eyes on his bumper instead of the flames. How close to death they’d been!

Brady took them back the way they’d come, but instinct was telling him this wasn’t a natural fire. When the flames continued to get heavier, he turned them again, heading west as sweat poured off him in small torrents. The flames rose suddenly in a thick wall, and he keyed the mic, “Hit the gas! We’ll go right through!”

They plunged into the fire at high speed, the heat rising, and then they were through, coming out unharmed on the other side. Temperature instantly cooler, the path Marc picked went downhill steeply, winding in long, bone-jarring bumps. The flames hadn’t been through this brown and green terrain yet and Marc was encouraged. Maybe they had gotten out in time…because of Angie.

He could still see the flames in his mirror, though, and when he spotted the animals following White Creek, he headed for it too, eased them down into the half a foot of casually flowing water. He rolled slowly down the middle of the creek, looking for the dirt path he’d only been on twice. It was nearly inaccessible to anything but a bike, 4x4, or jeep, and it would take the fire a long time to spread up the huge hill.

Spotting it, he headed them gently that way, being careful not to kill any of the animals still darting into the water for safety. “Remember how we used to ride dirt bikes behind Daniel’s house?”

“Yes.”

“This is trickier. Stay a few lengths behind, and remember that an uncontrolled slide doesn’t happen unless you hit the brakes too hard.”

Angela had to grin at his tone. It said he was eager for the next thrill, like when they were young. The fun they’d had together was something she hadn’t allowed herself to think about in a very long time. She just couldn’t deal with the crushing pain and anger without Kenny sensing it and reacting badly (violently), and it still hit her at odd times that she was now free to think about anything she wanted. “You lead, I’ll follow.”

Since when?
Marc shifted gears as adrenaline raced through him, and he could almost feel her catch his mutter and smile.

He went up the steep hill with an easy burst of speed, and Angela counted to five before following, glad when he didn’t seem to have any trouble with the dark, muddy-looking path.

His Blazer fishtailed as it hit the top, though, brake lights flashing briefly before he dropped suddenly out of sight. Heart in her throat, Angela hit the gas harder as she neared the top, and only tapped the brakes as her 4x4 started to drop into thin air.

She saw Marc half way up the next hill, and then she had her hands full as gravity pulled hard and she landed on a narrow path that shot downward at an awful, left tilt. The Blazer slid heavily, thick gobs of mud spraying the trees. Her hands worked the wheel, foot on the gas, and she just made the turn, shooting up the hill Marc was disappearing over.

Her Blazer slid to the right again as she made it to the top, wincing as she scraped branches and trees, and she had to physically force her foot away from the brake. She used loose hands on the wheel to keep the teetering vehicle on the edge of control and was able to make the turn.

Angela brought it gently away from the steep side, proud of herself, and jumped when his thoughts came flying at her,
"Gets bad from here. I’ll tell you which way to aim for."

She heard him clearly in her head, heard the worry but also the excitement, and was suddenly sure he would never let her go on alone. His sense of honor would be the excuse he gave himself, but it was really the connection between them, the old hunger and restless need. It would make him stand with her. Their lives,
her life
, had been in grave danger twice in the same eight hours, and the Brady she had known would never...

She stopped the old Angela, not ready for the pain that would come with completing the thought. That boy was likely gone. Better not to get her hopes up.

6

The twins had come up, then down, the steep miner’s road much more slowly than Angela and Marc, their jeep barely able to make the muddy, hairpin turns. As they reached the summit of the last dark, treacherous hill, Dillan pointed at two sets of brake lights disappearing into the foggy valley below. They watched for a long moment, but saw nothing else.

“Still going west.”

“Meeting someone?”

“Cesar, maybe, if she goes far enough. He’s in that area by now.”

“She wouldn’t be able to handle all those men.”

“Neither could we. Have to share.”

“No.”

“Exactly. We’ll follow but hang back, let them think we died or gave up. Our chance will come.”

Dean dug through his pack for two white capsules, glad to be traveling in the same vehicle together again. He’d missed his brother’s heat. “Start out again at daylight?”

“Yeah. We know which direction she’s headed. We’ll camp high before dusk each night, and keep track by their lights. They’ll relax, and we’ll look for a shot at her alone, take her off guard.”

“We’ll need a stronger tranquilizer.”

Dillan’s dark face was full of bloodlust. “And, sharper knives. I want it to last.”

7

Angela and Marc didn’t stop until almost noon. They were both bleary-eyed and exhausted as they sat on opposite corners of their tailgates with the tuna sandwiches and coffee she had made.

The layer of grit in the sky seemed thicker despite the heavy rain the night before, and Angela tried to avoid looking at the suburbs of identical condos crammed together across from the field. It sickened her to see how many had corpses of starved pets in backyards and front windows, most still appearing to be looking, searching for the Masters who had left them to such an awful fate.

“We have to come to some terms before we go any farther together.”

Her eyes swung to his, a sweet smile of relief lighting up her tired face and making him suck air into lungs that felt too small. Marc watched her happiness cool, knew instinctively she was waiting to see if she could pay the price he was about to demand. “First and most important, I’ll teach you to use your gun and some basic self-defense.”

Angela nodded, frowning at the thought of being close enough to him (to any man!) long enough to learn something like that. “Okay, to both.”

“Good. We’ll plan routes together, share the chores, and I’ll keep my distance as best I can and still protect you. In return, I’ll need more than an introduction. It can wait until you decide about your man, but then they’ll both have to be told so I can spend time with my son.”

She frowned again. The things he wanted were fair, reasonable, but there was still great fear in her heart. “Agreed, anything else?”

Marc waved a hand, dark blue eyes smoky, serious, “Yes. I’ll need to know things about
your
life, and that we’ll leave for when you’re ready, but on the way I’d like you to tell me about...Charlie. Everything I missed. Bedtime stories, any pictures you have?”

She gave him a small smile that didn’t reach her cold eyes, and he wondered what about his words she hadn’t liked.
All of it?

Angela gave him another nod, a thin smile. “Is that it? Good. Now, I have conditions. First and most important, we will travel every day. I’m in a hurry, and I want that clear up front. Second, you’re in charge, but when I say to change direction, we do it. We’ll use the maps, but I’m tracking him too, and I trust me.”

Marc thought she sounded like a mother bear protecting her cub, and for a man who hadn’t had anything but guilt and loneliness for a long time even before the War, it was very attractive. “Agreed, next?”

“Next is last. When we get there, do as I ask and abide by my choice. I want no violence if it can be helped.”

“You’ll see that I get time with Charlie, even if we have to sneak?”

Her voice was shaky. “Yes. You’ll protect us from Kenny, even if it comes to blood?”

The open fear in her eyes hurt him. “With my life.”

The answer fell easily despite the years between them. When she only nodded, Marc caught the fact that she didn’t tell him that it
wouldn’t
come to that. What the hell was he walking into?

“Then I agree.” Mindful about keeping his distance (still stinging from it) Marc didn’t put out his hand until she did hers, and he saw her reluctance, saw her almost draw back before placing her small fingers against his.

Lightning flashed overhead, forking into thick black clouds that rolled across the sky as the lovers touched. Electricity sparked between them, threatening to sweep them into the past. Marc let go, moved back. He was a man of his word.

For Angela, the silence after the crash was deafening, but she didn’t apologize for the small theft of some of his healthy energy, almost sure he hadn’t noticed. Her oddness was something she planned to rely on now, and he would have to get used to it. Kenny couldn’t, hadn’t even been able to consider accepting her for what she really was without using it for his own gain. Would Brady?

She stood up, began cleaning. Only time would tell. “Well, come on then, Sir Lancelot. I’d like to make another five by dark.”

He snapped a stiff salute, grinning, and she turned away before he could see the disappointment in her tired eyes. Had a tiny part of her lonely heart been hoping that one of his conditions might be another chance with her if she decided not to stay with her Marine?

She swallowed the hurt, closed and locked her door. That was exactly what the old Angela had been waiting for, and it was a struggle not to cry as she shifted into gear.

8

They traveled until it began to get dark. The rain had returned for another light round and then cleared, leaving only the damp, reeking wind as they rolled over dead wires still attached to downed poles and around trees by the hundreds that had their tops sheared off. It was sad, monotonous, and despite her need to hurry, Angela was glad when he finally called her on the radio. She was beat.

“Ready?”

“Yes. You pick, I’ll cook.”

“Deal. That long drive on your right.”

Carefully easing up the long, muddy driveway full of cracks and weeds, she saw the benefits of his choice. Thick trees blocked them from view on one side as far as the eye could see and an unturned cornfield did the same on the rest of the property surrounding the small, grayish farmhouse.

A few of the big windows were broken, but it looked otherwise undamaged, and Marc headed for the small carport, hoping there was room for two. He had honestly expected her to be driving something flashy and unusable - her obvious seriousness about making this trip was something of a relief as well as a worry. It spoke of someone who wasn’t exaggerating.

Marc stopped, watching her slowly back into the hard, dirt row of corn, snapping a surprising few of the knee-high stalks as she pulled in near the house. Obviously, she’d done it a few times, and it made sense. He too preferred not to sleep in homes where family ghosts still lingered. Closing his mouth on the correction he had started to give, Marc waited to see what she had in mind.

Angela pulled out a rolled-up, camouflage tarp, and when she tossed it over her Blazer, pulling gently on the stiff ends, the muddy 4x4 seemed to disappear. Marc felt the Marine inside stir in respect at her resourcefulness. Fresh recruits tried hard for eight weeks to impress, usually without success, and she’d done it in less than a day.