The Survivors: Book One (36 page)

Marc could almost hear her telling herself to let it go, to preserve the careful peace they’d been sharing, and shook his head. “The truth is all that’s left now. Tell me why.”

She opened her eyes, and he was only a little surprised by the coldness of her gaze. “Because I need to know what was more important than the way we felt. I need to understand why. What was worth more than the love you left behind and forgot about?”

Marc pulled in a wounded breath, reeling from the blow. “I’ve never said it was worth it and I never forgot you!” he protested.

Her words fell like chips of frosted glass. “Clearly it was or you would have at least had the decency to come back and tell me where we stood. You weighed the old life against the new one and if you ever looked back, I never knew. Last thing I heard was - I’ll find you. And don’t give me that ‘it was for the best’ crap, because it wasn’t.”

“I wouldn't. I did a lot of things, helped a lot of people, but I’ve never considered it a fair trade. For the most part, it’s been lonely…cold… I’ve spent the last decade aware that I made a mistake.”

She shrugged, not interested in his apologies, and too angry and hurt to be afraid of arguing with him. Their breakup and her life with Kenny was all she could see when she closed her eyes, and the pain in his baby-blues was finally a balm to the old Angela.

“Tell me something I don’t know about your life,” she repeated tonelessly.

“I don’t... Okay. You remember how we wanted matching tattoos? I’ve got four now. Three can be shown in public.”

That caught her off guard, and he saw a flash of the old Angie, his Angie, in her response, “I’m public. Let’s see ‘em.”

Not expecting that, he reluctantly pushed up his camouflage sleeve to reveal a simple, thin green band around his thick arm, its edges artfully spiked. The other sleeve hid a neat Marine emblem, an eagle on top of the earth. Her eyes lingered on his muscles as she wondered against her will, where the politically incorrect one was. Ass?

“And the third?” Seeing the hesitation, she threw a rare grin. “Come on. You said three were politically correct.”

Marc stared at her.
It had been so long!
  He was immediately sorry her already swinging mood was about to take a hit. He uncovered slowly, hating the fear on her face when his hands went to the buckle of his dusty jeans. He only slid the waistband over his hip a couple of inches as he rolled toward her.

“I know those. Those are Recon wings. Kenny has the same…” she stopped, heart clenching as she read it. Kenny had the traditional "Mother" in the center of his. Marc had "Angie Forever".

Their eyes met, locked, and memories swirled between them, old and powerful.

“You’ll love me forever?” the girl asked softly, terrified to trust.

The boy met her eyes as his hips pushed between her long legs. “Just that long. Not a second more.”

She smiled, leaned into his thrust as he kissed her.

Marc turned away with a heavy heart. That moment had been a very long time ago, but right now it felt like yesterday. He had to fight with himself not to go to her, not to tell her how he felt, or that he had come back for her. It had been too late then, and it was too late now.

The big Timber wolf stretched, yawning widely before following his master, and Angela watched Marc’s big shoulders as he lit the stove. Her name on his tanned hip flashed through her mind, and she slammed her eyes shut as she lay back down. She was sure it had been done when he was fresh into the Corps and still pissed at his mother for putting him there. If their love had meant so much, he would have come back for her, right? He hadn’t, and in the years that had gone by, he'd changed.

 The boy she’d loved had been her willing slave on most things, her ally and best friend. This new man was closed off, very adept at keeping to himself, and she missed their closeness, hated the circumstances preventing them from having it back.
"It’s for the best,"
her fear whispered.
"What if friendship wasn’t enough?"
Angie gave the old dream only a brief glance before shoving it back behind the doors. Kenny would never let her go. The question didn’t matter.

 Relieved when her even breathing told him that she’d gone back to sleep, Marc was certain any of the things he might have said would only have caused more tension. They were mostly avoiding the old wounds, concentrating on working out an efficient travel routine. In that way at least, he knew he had pleased her.

They’d made 127 miles in the week since leaving the wounded brothers behind, compared to her 120 in nine days alone, and took turns at the cooking and cleanup. She had expected to do all the work despite the agreement, and it bothered Marc to see her staring, wondering if she could still trust him, or if he was up to something. She was jumpy, always looking over her shoulder or reaching for the comfort of her gun. She never asked if they were safe, wouldn't have believed him anyway, he guessed, and he had begun doing things to make her feel better, like walking the perimeter often and always using the motion alarms. Marc was determined to show her that he could keep her alive, that she could count on him.

He also kept his distance and kept his mouth shut, sure when she relaxed a little more, she would realize he was still the same man who had taken her virginity with sweetness and care. Feeling himself stir at that hot, shadowy memory, Marc pulled on his coat and stepped out into the very cold Illinois air after motioning the wolf to stay.

They were camped in a large, one-room log cabin deep in the Eagle Creek Recreation area, this particular building chosen for its complete lack of Christmas decorations. The area in which he had chosen to make camp was on the farthest edge of the resort complex, away from the main clubhouse and lavish apartments. He’d even shunned the golfing side, choosing instead to hole up deep in the campground. It was almost serene here, no damage visible thanks to the thick forest around them, and he was glad they had finally cleared the St. Louis quake zone.

The cabin had no yard to speak of, just dense willow and oak trees that hung thickly over the rustic rails. Marc hefted himself into their canopy, wanting to see what (who) was around them, but even with his scope, the leaves were too thick to see the outlines of the wealthier resort area. Only the shadows of blackened foliage told him that Angie’s words of a huge fire were true. Not that he’d doubted her.

Frowning, Marc stayed in the tree, watching. Their first week together had gone smoothly. Even crossing the ugly, swollen Mississippi River had been easy, by using an out of the way dam. He tried to do things for her, but she was stubborn, always insisting on the hardest path. The tone of her voice seemed to beg for another mile each time he asked if she was ready to stop for the night, and he always gave in. As a result, she was exhausted, and he was tired, so much that they weren’t unpacking anything but their bedrolls and the heater most nights. Marc sighed again. She needed a break. Soon, they both would.

2

Angela awoke abruptly, instantly aware that other than the wolf, she was alone in the chilly room. She concentrated, worried Brady had tired of babysitting her and left, but she found him just outside and tried to relax. Between the fear of Kenny’s reaction hanging over her head like a noose, and her dreams of the twins, she was freaking out a little. She knew Marc was picking up on it and was grateful for the things he did to make her feel better, but there would be hell to pay once Kenny…

 
"Something’s coming."

The door appeared in her mind, pulling at her, and she immediately closed her eyes and turned the knob, heart thumping. The twins?

An icy wind blew her hair back as she stopped in the doorway, knowing not to go further, and she shivered as she looked into another world.

This landscape was blanketed by a thick blizzard and dotted with the shadowy forms of people, but only one of them - a dirty blonde with a nasty limp - actually looked alive as she plowed determinedly through the knee-high drifts. She moved toward where Angela stood on the threshold, the edges of her dirty brown trench coat dragging over the deep snow, leaving a clear trail.

This world was pure white except for the people; even the trees were bent, covered in ice. Angela thought she saw a pack of dogs in the far distance, but wasn’t sure. The other people paid no attention to the open door, but the blonde limped straight toward her, frozen eyelashes glistening like jewels. “
It’s coming. Get ready.”

There was a radar map in the woman’s eyes, like a reflection of an old weather broadcast. Angela’s heart raced as she realized that she and Marc weren’t the only ones caught in the path of the massive winter storm moving in from the South. Her son was in danger, along with all the people they’d joined at Safe Haven refugee camp.

A strong wind pushed her back as the door slammed shut between them, echoing, and Angela jerked upright, eyes flying open. She would wait until the snow was falling before she sent the warning - Kenny would never believe her otherwise - but it was coming and they would all have to get ready.

Fear raced through Angela’s veins and her heart sped up. She had to call Kenny. He was about to find out the first big rule she’d broken. He would know for sure that she was on her way.

3

Angela stepped out onto the porch, wolf disappearing into the trees, and found Marc instantly - though she couldn’t see him from the doorway.

Marc grinned when she moved into view, looking up at him. “You see me or sense me?”

She frowned, not really comfortable talking to him about the things she could do. “I’m not sure.”

He dropped down. “You all right?”

She shook her head, not meeting his eyes. “Not really, but I’ll be better when we’re on the move again.”

She lit a smoke, prepared herself to take a chance. Would he believe her?

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s a bad storm coming. A winter storm,” she said quietly, waiting for the questions.

“Snow?”

She still didn’t look at him. “A lot of it, and I think it’s going to get colder. I’ve got a roll of plastic.”

Marc smiled, showing sexy white teeth. “I’ve got a staple gun and duct tape.” His unquestioning acceptance brought her eyes up and they stared at each other. Both of them could feel that old connection wanting to grow again. He looked away before she could.

“What smells so good?”

“Omelets. It’s all rehydrated or powdered though, so don’t expect much.” Powdered eggs suck, Marc thought, and Angela went back to cooking with a smile of agreement, not searching for his thoughts, but not blocking them either.

“Can I do anything?” He followed her slowly, mindful about keeping his distance.

“Yes. Teach me some defensive moves today after lunch.”

“Sure. We’ll start with the basics and move up.”

“I really need something I can use now.”

He frowned at her insistent response. “I know quick ways, but they’re for Marines. Not pretty,” he warned.

She shrugged, brushing a stray curl back behind her ear as she turned off the stove. “Pretty doesn’t matter. Only results do.”

“Remember you said that.”

Angela frowned at the second warning, but didn’t ask for details or change her mind as she handed him a plate and sat down on the far end of the couch. “I will. Let’s eat.”

Angela wrote in her journal the whole time, and then bundled up and slipped out the door without a word, leaving Marc to worry as he waved the wolf to follow. Where was the carefree young girl who had insisted they build a clubhouse in the middle of a snow storm? Where was the innocent enchantress he had eased into womanhood and how could he get her back? There had to be a way.

When he stepped out, Marc was surprised by how much gear she already had on the porch. Obviously, she was serious about the storm, and he kept his eyes from lingering on the rounded ass sticking from the rear of her Blazer each time she retrieved something else. He carried her things inside instead.

Coming back for the last load, he noticed the temperature with a frown. It had dropped nearly five degrees in less than two hours. That definitely wasn’t normal and it confirmed her warning. Again, not that he’d really doubted. Her gift had always been a part of their lives, one of the reasons his mother had been so against him spending time with her, but it didn’t bother him anymore now, than it had then. It was useful, and he had little to hide. Marc had often wondered what it would be like to see and feel everything the way she did, but he didn’t envy her abilities because he knew the terrible price she paid for them.

 “Need some help?”

Angela hadn’t known he was so close behind her, and Marc saw the hand flinching downward before she stopped herself. “I’ve got it.”

Her tone was sharp, and he backed off, stepping through thick Bermuda grass as he went to get his own things. She was trying to keep the wall between them, and he would respect her wishes….for now.

It only took them half an hour to improve the cabin’s temperature, using large sheets of plastic to enclose the area around the couch. They worked together in silence, Angela anticipating his needs as she had when they were kids. Once finished, they dug out warmer clothes and Marc tossed a plastic-wrapped pouch on her bedroll. “Thermal blanket. Used to a part of my sniper gear.”

Trying not to frown at the word sniper, she tossed a similar looking package on the couch. “He left some of his things behind this year.” Their similarity, from supplies to transportation, made them both sad. What a great team they would have made. It also had Marc a bit more uneasy about the future. Her man had sniper training, too. Great.

4

Angela tried to calm herself down. She knew Marc wouldn’t hurt her, but still flinched as the door opened and Marc came back in from doing a walk of the perimeter.

“Ready for your first lesson?”

She nodded nervously, rubbing sweaty palms down her jeans. “In here?”