Night Beyond The Night (7 page)

Quent could and did, though his head pounded like hell. He grasped the figure’s arm. Smooth, muscular, but delicate. Exposed by a sleeveless shirt, skin a shade darker than his own.

He caught a profile. Definitely a woman. If a boy had such feminine features, it’d be a pity—not to mention a danger for the poor sod.

And then there were the sleek curves of her torso. The strap from what must be a quiver cut diagonally between two plum-sized breasts.

Definitely a she.

And definitely the owner of the arrow he’d been holding earlier, the one that gave him murky images and memories, laced with impatience and anger . . . and determination. Loneliness.

“You’re alone,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound like a bloody rapist. But he had a feeling she was the kind of woman who could take care of herself.

She sat back on her haunches, and he saw wide dark eyes in a face darkened by shadows. “I like it that way. My arrows. Please.”

“You saved me,” he said. “Thank you.”

She eased back, and he realized she’d closed her fingers around the arrows. “That’s what I do.” The darkness swallowed her.

“Wait,” he said, scrambling to his feet, embarrassingly unsteady. His head pounded harder now, and he felt more than a bit shaky and nauseated from the close proximity to the
gangas
.

“It’ll go away,” she said from the shadows in that low, husky voice. “The dizziness and weakness. And you’d best use this.”

Something whuffed out of the darkness and he had the wherewithal to snatch it out of the air. His bandanna. “Where do you live? In Envy?”

Silence. Quent peered into the shadows, taking a step toward the place from where his bandanna had come flying as he tied it back into place.

“Come with us,” he said. “We could use you.”

“No.”

He heard a soft trickle-like sound of lapping water and knew she was gone. Quent thought about following her, and even started in the direction where she’d disappeared . . . but then he remembered something. “I still have one of your arrows.” He made sure his voice carried, certain she’d not gone too far. “You can have it whenever you want. Your arrow.”

He waited, heard nothing but the soft splash of water, and the scamper of small rodent feet. “We’re taking those kids back home. To a place called Envy.”

“What the hell’re you doing? Giving the
gangas
our fucking itinerary?”

Quent whirled to see Simon standing there. Despite the edge to his words, there was a glimmer of dark humor in his handsome, chiseled face. “Not that they could follow it, dumb wanks. And where the hell did you come from?”

Simon shrugged, and Quent saw that he carried a two-by-four-sized branch as a weapon. Something steaming and rank still clumped on the far corner.

“I saw you were missing. Got one, but not before he swiped at me.” Simon gestured to his arm, which had a deep gash that would match the one on his leg from earlier in the day. “Fucking nails on those bastards are sharp. You okay?”

“That archer, the one who shot a couple
gangas
when Wyatt and I were checking out the van, saved me,” Quent told him as his friend gestured in the proper direction for them to walk. Bloody good thing, as he’d been out cold for part of his trip and didn’t know which way to go. “Wanted the arrows back.” It wasn’t like him to drop pronouns.
Interesting
. Quent tickled that around in his mind as they started back.

Simon, who wore his shoulder-length dark hair in a low ponytail, walked alongside him with long strides, though he still limped a bit. Quent didn’t know him that well, but, he supposed, when your life changes the way his had—all of theirs had—you get to know a man pretty bloody quickly when you’ve got all that to deal with. And what he’d gotten to know about Simon was that, though quiet and private, and stinging at times, he was brave and fought tenaciously. He was trustworthy and intelligent.

“You give them back to him?”

“Yes.”

Except the one in his hand. He was keeping that one . . . until she came back for it.

The
gangas
were gone, Geoff had fled back into the safety of the building, and Elliott and his friends had sustained little in the way of injury. Even Wyatt had resisted the urge to lecture Geoff, who claimed he’d left simply to find a place to piss, and got turned around in a dark and unfamiliar place.

As soon as he reached the top of the rope ladder, Elliott found himself looking for Jade. Sweaty, exhilarated from the adrenaline rush of battle, and pissed that one of his few shirts had been ruined, he saw her talking to Linda and another of the teen girls. She cast a quick glance toward him, but didn’t break off her conversation.

That was fine with Elliott. He had some patching up to do on Simon, who’d taken a nasty hit by a set of
ganga
claws, and some serious thinking ahead.

At least he knew the answer to one question, sort of. After the battle with the
gangas
, he’d been unable to avoid Wyatt clasping his hand in a victory shake. Nothing had happened.

At least, so far.

It could mean that once he’d “transferred” the injury to someone, it couldn’t or wouldn’t be transferred again—hell, he hadn’t even been able to heal Linda after he’d given it to her.

Or maybe it meant that the ability to transfer it had worn off after a while. Or maybe he had to be thinking or concentrating about it when he absorbed the injury and then transferred it.

The implications were enough to keep his mind on that labyrinthine trail for a while. There was also the possibility that it had been something about Jade herself that had caused him to take on her injury and transfer it to himself, and then to Linda.

He glanced over at the woman in question and happened to find her looking at him. She looked away quickly, but it was too late. He couldn’t hold back a smile of delight and a rush of attraction.

Something about Jade? Most definitely.

“Look what I found.”

Simon’s richly satisfied voice had Elliott starting awake from the best dream he’d had in a long time. It starred him and the intriguing, bareback-riding woman who was supposed to be his patient. There’d been lots of bare ass and smooth white skin, and he wasn’t playing doctor.

Shaking off the dream, trying to ignore the raging hard-on that reminded him that, yes, his parts still worked and his jeans were a bit tight, Elliott rubbed his dry eyes and realized that not only had he actually slept, but that the sun sat fully on the horizon.

Then he saw what Simon was holding. “Duct tape. Holy crap. Six rolls? Unopened, dry, unmildewed?” He grinned and took one of the precious objects. “We could build a bloody house with this stuff. Could probably even tape that damned motor back together.”

Simon gave a rare laugh. “Tell me, man.”

Until now, until he’d had a chance to pull back on his raging hormones, Elliott hadn’t allowed himself to look toward Jade’s pallet. But now that he did, he saw that she was gone.

“Where’s Jade?” he asked casually, looking around the area arrayed with stripes of sunlight. The illumination revealed dust motes that had been stirred up by the unusual activity of human occupation, and the mildew spots on what had been drywall but was now torn and sagging, infested with vines, rodent holes, and insects. The teens had begun to awaken, and it was immediately clear that Jade was no longer in the room.

Elliott walked over to her pallet and saw that the pack he’d taken from over her shoulder was gone. He resisted the absurd urge to kick at the pile of blankets that probably smelled like her and turned back to the others.

At least she’d been smart enough to wait until dawn to leave. He was fairly certain about that because he remembered seeing the faint gray from the sun before drifting off into a hard-won sleep.

“I dunno.”

It took Elliott a moment to realize that Simon was answering his question; but he didn’t need to hear it. He already knew she’d gone back to wherever she’d been, and he doubted he’d see her again. Unless. . . .

He looked at Geoff, who looked fairly miserable. Obviously the kid knew Jade. All the more reason to get on their way and find this mecca known as Envy.

They gathered up the teens, and, now that it was daylight and there was actually decent illumination, Elliott could see how miserable and tired they really were. And young. Definitely no more than seventeen, all of them. They all had parents that were likely worried sick about them too.

They started off, heading north, bearing slightly west, walking along an overgrown road that led toward a nearby fringe of looming mountains.

Once paved, the thoroughfare—probably a highway of some sort, though any signs had long rusted over—had become home to full-grown trees and bushes, thrusting up from cracks made by stubborn seedlings and temperature changes. Clusters of saplings and patches of grasses and low-growing bushes filled out the sides of the highway, not quite forests yet but definitely on the way to becoming them. Elliott found it amazing how quickly man’s world had become destroyed and overgrown after half a century.

Mother Nature was one hell of a ball-buster.

June 10 (?)

Four days After

Ventured outside for the first time since the earthquakes began. Horrible sight. Unbelievable destruction. Dead bodies, crushed cars, parts of buildings gone. Dust and debris everywhere, clouding the air, my lungs. Puked three times.

Amazed and sickened to find that half of the Strip is underwater. Completely gone.

Have been able to find more bottled water. Some plastic bottles. Some food, too, in a fridge. Found another survivor, a woman named Diane. Arm broken but otherwise okay. We scavenged together and found a safe place to stay. Have tentatively agreed it’s been four days, making today June 10, 2010.

The buildings aren’t falling so often anymore. Only one or two crashes per day. The storms continue. Can’t see much through the rain, but the dust and debris is being cleared by it. Spent very little time outside. Just enough to call out. No one answered.

Where’s help?

Found an intact cell phone and tried to call 911. No bars. Nothing.

Still sense Theo’s presence. How will I ever find him?

—from the journal of Lou Waxnicki

Jade bent over the mustang’s neck, its mane sweeping rhythmically over her cheek as they galloped across the terrain. She held on to a handful of mane and looped her other arm around and beneath the horse’s neck. Her pack hung comfortably over her shoulder, jolting against her hip, and though she hadn’t slept much last night, she felt exhilarated as they pounded through grassy meadows and around and through what had once been small cities.
Free
.

She loved the wind in her face, the sunshine on her skin, the scent on the air, still damp after the morning dew, the warmth and movement of a living being beneath her. Those were things she’d never take for granted again. She reminded herself of it every day.

With only a little stab of regret, she’d left Elliott and the others the moment dawn began to gray the horizon. By then, the
gangas
would be seeking the protective darkness of large buildings or wading deep into the ocean.

If nothing unexpected happened, she’d get back to Envy in just enough time to clean up before her gig. She prayed Theo had made it to Envy by now too. There seemed to have been a lot of
gangas
out and about last night. A trickle of worry nagged her, but she tried to put it out of her mind because there was nothing she could do about it until she found out whether he was safe or not.

Jade wondered if Elliott was angry that she’d left. Not that it mattered. Just because he’d somehow healed her didn’t mean that he had any control over her. And since she’d seen him with his shirt torn off, she knew for certain he wasn’t a Stranger.

That was the only reason she’d been looking at him so closely when he climbed up the rope ladder last night. Just to make
sure
he didn’t have any crystals. But he’d caught her watching for him, and he probably thought she was ogling his bare chest. Which she hadn’t been. Except to look for crystals. Even though it had been a very wixy chest.

Jade gave her head a little shake to dislodge the image of that very wixy chest, and felt the pleasant reminder of her long hair flip and flow behind her. It had taken her three years to grow it out again and although it could be a liability in some ways, she refused to cut it. The heavy length, despite the tangles and impracticality, was another reminder that she was free and in control of her own life. And her own body.

There were nights when dark dreams brought back those days in the sunny, spare white room, the constant rush of running water, the large white upholstered bed. Even now, when she approached a river or waterfall, the sound gave her pause for a moment, sending a little trickle of unease over her shoulders. Foolish, she knew. Foolish and weak.

But for the most part, she was free of the dreams, the catch of the memories. Her past could have deadened her, induced her to stay locked safely away, but she refused to cower. She enjoyed life—the life she’d fought so hard to preserve—too much to be restricted.

By the time Jade saw the walls of Envy, the sun was leaning well toward the western horizon. Instead of going to the main gateway, on the southern side, she dismounted about two miles away, near an overgrown structure that might once have been a small house. An oak thrust from its decrepit roof, and none of the windows retained their glass panes. Buckled concrete led up to an entrance large enough for one of the big vehicles the Strangers liked to drive. Jade gave her mount a hug, a pat, and an apple from her knapsack, then slapped him on the rump, setting him free to return to his herd.

Mustangs were plentiful in the meadows, tame and easy to catch if one knew how, so she had no need to pen him—or any of them. Jade had a particular affinity for the horses, and she went to where they gathered and whistled when she needed a ride. Most of the time, one would respond to her call—and the apples they’d come to expect.