Buried Flames (12 page)

Brenna appeared to be evaluating Mason’s answer as if he weren’t telling her everything. She seemed to take his hesitancy of leaving her on guard as a personal insult. It had nothing to do with her abilities. She’d run her family’s farm for many years. He had every confidence she could protect their supplies.

“Fine.”

Brenna walked over to Major, who was standing alongside Sergeant. The two majestic animals were out of place inside this building and their tranquil temperament was appreciated. She opened her satchel and pulled out a small case, a flashlight, and a canteen before making her way into the women’s restroom. She cast an annoyed look over her shoulder before disappearing behind the door.

“She hasn’t changed,” Mason muttered to Sam, thinking back on their time together with fondness and regret. He would have given anything to have had returned to Harpersfield a man who was worthy of her, but instead… “Come on, Sam. Let’s make that call.”

Mason lowered his body to the floor from his kneeling position, ignoring the ache in his thigh that was a constant companion. He grabbed his own bag he’d already set beside him and pulled out the HF radio he was very familiar with from his days in the Corps. He uncoiled the long whip antenna out of a gap in the weather stripping and connected it to the proper port on top of the radio transmitter. It didn’t take long before he was in contact with his old tank commander.

“Nebraska Echo Five Sierra, checking in.” The static hissed.

“You all right, Mason?” Tank asked in his usual gruff voice, breaking radio protocol. Mason smiled for the first time since this living hell had started and settled back against the wall. “Did you have any trouble?”

“Interrogative, as good as can be,” Mason replied after pressing the push-to-talk control. Sam continued to look into the darkness across the way, but his relaxed demeanor didn’t send out any alarming signals. “I do have a guest traveling with me though.”

“ETA?”

“At least two weeks,” Mason answered with regret, his finger still holding the handset. “The ash cloud came upon us faster than anticipated. We lost valuable time.”

He released the switch and waited, allowing the static to stretch for a moment while Tank did the calculations. Mason didn’t want to say on the radio that he had horses over an open net, along with whatever supplies someone might decide they needed. He even omitted where their current location was, especially considering that type of information was best kept off of the public airwaves.

“I’ll be sure to check in at the designated time or as closely as possible.” Mason lifted his knees so he could rest his elbows and thought about Tank’s lodge, secure in its place in between the two mountain ranges. He wished he and Brenna were there now. “The rest of the team?”

“On their way as we speak.”

Mason picked up on the tension in Tank’s voice, but he wasn’t going to hear what had his usually unruffled manner up in arms. Had any of the team members needed assistance and Mason had been in the position to help them, Tank would have let him know. Just as he would have alerted Mason had one of them been injured or worse.

“That’s good to know.” Mason sighed and ran a hand over his face, recognizing that his five o’clock shadow was growing longer than he’d wanted. His chin needed to stay free of too much growth or his mask wouldn’t fit right. He’d worry about that at another time. “I’ll be in touch.”

Mason turned the radio off and then took his time packing it back into its canvas bag. The one teammate he was concerned about was coming clear across from the East Coast—New York to be precise. Most people would think Van was insane for leaving the one place the government was telling its citizens to go to, but Mason understood all too well—there wasn’t anything to keep his friend there.

*

Brenna finally felt
more like herself after having used the sink to wash her face and clear away what debris she could. Her face, arms, and hands were now as clean as they could be, whereas she only changed her undergarments because of her lack of heavy clothing. What she had on needed to last as long as possible. She washed her used underwear in the sink and hung them up inside the restroom to dry out.

“You washed your hair.”

“I couldn’t stand the smell,” Brenna replied, replacing all of her items in her satchel before joining him on the bedrolls he’d laid out for them. She didn’t comment on the space he’d put between them. “I strung a clothesline in there, so make the best of it.”

“At least something is going our way,” Mason said wryly. He gathered up his toiletry bag, along with a light change of clothes before he moved Sam’s paws off of his legs and pointed him to the men’s door. Brenna refrained from commenting on how close the two were becoming. “I’ll be quick and then you can get some shuteye.”

Mason disappeared with his flashlight before Brenna could ask about his plans for sleep. She wasn’t certain how long they had before reaching their destination, but she figured it had to be at least a couple of weeks. He had to sleep sometime and seeing as this place appeared as safe as most of the places they might find, he might as well take advantage of it.

Speaking of which, Brenna had yet to hear a sound come from the men’s restroom. She picked up her flashlight and tucked it between her knees, aiming it in that direction. The door remained closed and Sam had already laid down on Mason’s sleeping bag with his head pointed in that direction. He didn’t appear apprehensive as he rested his chin on his paws.

Brenna leaned back against the wall as she set out to braid her hair. She always wore her hair this way due to the chores on the farm. Now? It kept the ash from weaving into the strands. She’d gotten down the end and was wrapping the small black hairband around the tail end when she stilled her movements. What was that sound?

Sam had lifted and tilted his head, his black ears perking up at the noise. Brenna slowly withdrew her weapon from the side holster and took a hold of her light, shining it toward the front of the building. She used the wall for support as she slid her body upwards. Sam had also unfolded his furry frame and was now standing on all four legs. He’d first zeroed in on the front doors, but he was now looking across to where the man was holed up.

Shit. Why did men think women were easier prey? Brenna could handle a weapon just as good as any man in Harpersfield and she wasn’t afraid to use it. She held her flashlight alongside the barrel of her .45 ACP. The door to the men’s room was still shut.

There. Brenna finally heard the low sound again and distinguished it to be a painful moan. Was the man hurt? Was it a trap? She wasn’t falling for it if it was, so she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth to signal to Sam he should come with her. It wasn’t in his nature to back down and he did as she asked, staying close to her right leg as they made their way to the women’s restroom and edged the door open.

“Mason, we have a prob—”

Brenna hadn’t needed to shine her light inside to catch sight of Mason’s partially naked form. He was bent over the sink and splashing water on his face, but what caught her attention were his broad shoulders, contoured biceps that any man would be jealous of, and…the scars.

“What’s wrong?” Mason barked, instantly picking up his flashlight upon her intrusion. She had to hold up a hand to ward off the bright beam, lowering hers in the process. “Is someone else here?”

“No,” Brenna replied immediately, trying to formulate words when her thoughts were on what she’d just seen. The damage to his skin was severe and had covered most of his left side. She would have guessed some were burn marks, but the raised jagged scars appeared to have come from deep cuts. Then again, she’d only caught a glimpse of him. Her name falling from his lips brought her attention around. “Um, the man. I think there’s something wrong with him.”

“What do you mean?”

The intense light he was shining her way didn’t fade, but it was being jostled in a way that made Brenna understand he was dressing. She thought back and realized she’d never seen him in anything less but a long-sleeved shirt since his return. Her stomach rolled slightly at the significance.

“He’s…moaning, I think.” Brenna had let the door close behind her after making sure Sam was inside with them. She probably should have left it open in case the stranger was causing a diversion so she’d leave their supplies, but there wasn’t a chance in hell he could get those horses out the doors before she and Mason made an appearance. “I think something is really wrong with him.”

“That’s not our problem.” Mason was suddenly standing in front of her, his dark eyes appearing almost as black as the shadows. He no longer smelled like the sulfur produced from the ash, but instead his scent was the masculine spice she hadn’t realized she’d missed so much. “He hasn’t asked for our help.”

“Would he?” Brenna countered, trying to stay on track. It was almost impossible to do with the questions flying around in her mind. How had he gotten those scars? Is that what made him leave the military before he had a chance to retire? Is that why he came home and stayed to himself? “You most likely didn’t come across as the nicest guy when you talked to him.”

“Neither did he,” Mason said with a warning, leaning past her to open the door. “Never leave our supplies vulnerable.”

“We’re right here,” Brenna reminded him, the level of her anger rising by the second. She suppressed her curiosity about Mason’s physical wellbeing to focus on the current problem. “We need to check on him. We’re not going to be the people who lose their humanity in times like these.”

“Humanity and stupidity are two separate things.”

“Don’t be an asshole,” Brenna hissed, fed up with Mason’s cynical outlook. She obviously surprised him when she reached up and palmed his jawline, but she needed to snag his attention. “Who’s to say he isn’t dying in there? We need to help him if he’s wounded. You either come with me to check on him or I do it by myself.”

Brenna refrained from bringing up Mason’s past injuries, knowing all too well he would pull away from her. She didn’t want to bring up bad memories, but he of all people should understand the situation. He’d clearly had help to survive the serious injuries he’d received. He should want to return the favor to others.

Mason muttered some choice words before stepping away from her touch and then brushing past her to walk out into the foyer. Sam stayed close to his leg as they set out in front of her. They both slowed their paces the closer they got to the men’s restroom. Brenna followed close behind, swinging her flashlight behind her just in case. She didn’t want to be caught off guard.

Mason stood for a moment, listening carefully to any sounds coming from inside the restroom. It didn’t take long to hear the deep sound of pain and then a few words that rivaled Mason’s from earlier. He lowered his head, shaking it as if he were debating with himself on what needed to be done.

“Do you need help?” Brenna called out, ignoring the all-out furious look Mason threw her way.

“No.”

Mason raised an eyebrow in victory, about to walk away when Brenna put a hand on his arm and stopped him. He held up a finger to silence her but she swatted it away.

“Look, we aren’t bad people,” Brenna announced, not willing to let this man’s pride prevent him from getting help. “We’re just using this place for a quick break before we go on our way, but we can at least help you if you’re hurt.”

“Look, man, either tell her you’re fine or let me come in and judge for myself.” Mason had lost his patience and that was fine with Brenna. The faster they got this over with, the quicker they were able to rest before going back out in that hell that was now reality. “Make this easier on both of us.”

Brenna breathed a sigh of relief when the man tried to negotiate that she be the one to check on him because it showed his willingness to accept help. Unfortunately, Mason wasn’t about to budge on that condition and the two debated back and forth about weapons. Neither was willing to give up their guns and it appeared they were at a standoff.

“This is getting us nowhere,” Brenna called out over Mason’s last demand, disregarding the vibrating growl emanating from his chest. She stepped closer to the door only to have Mason block her way. “How bad are you hurt? It sounds serious enough that you might not make it out of here, so does it really matter if we have weapons?”

The man’s silence answered Brenna’s question with regards to how severely he was injured. Mason sighed in frustration, but he positioned himself so that he could cautiously open the door with his foot, arranging his weapon and flashlight similar to the way she’d had hers earlier. His large frame blocked her view, but she could literally feel the tension in his back as she laid her palm on his shirt.

“That’s a lot of blood,” Mason stated while showing no emotion. “You’re not going to be conscious very much longer.”

Brenna’s breathing became slightly shallow when she peered around him. A man dressed in black from head to toe was leaning against the wall and there was a pool of blood underneath him. It would have been hard to tell where it was coming from had she not seen his left hand holding something against his other side. A pistol rested in his right and was casually aimed their way.