What Survives of Us (Colorado Chapters Book 1) (26 page)

“I’ll make sure the dogs don’t take you out, Mom.  They missed you.”

Once they were inside, Naomi closed her eyes and inhaled. 
Home
.  Even with the chill in the air, the warmth of it folded around her.  She made her way to the keeping room, Scott trailing behind her, shedding packages and parcels as he went. 

Persephone danced around her feet, while Zeus bounded back and forth between her and Scott, never able to decide who he was happier to see.  Naomi looked around for a moment, wondering where Hades was, but the thought fluttered away as quickly as it had come.

As promised, Piper had built a fire in the wood-burning stove.  She had also dragged in a mattress – probably from the daybed in the guest room – and made up a neat and cozy bed close to the fire.  A pot simmered on top of the stove – by the smell, she was heating some of the turkey soup Naomi had made then frozen at Christmas time.  Piper fussed with the pillows on the bed, then gestured to the pot.

“I thought you’d be hungry.  And this is the only place that’s warm, until the electricity comes back on.” 

Naomi opened her mouth to thank her, but before she could speak, Piper pointed at her, shaking her head.

“Don’t say anything!”  Her expression was equal parts embarrassment and pride.  “Just because I
don’t
embrace ‘Martha Stewart’ doesn’t mean I
can’t
.”

Naomi walked right past her daughter’s prickles, cupped the back of her huffy head, and pulled her in for a smacking kiss.  “I
will
say ‘thank you.’  You’re so thoughtful, honey.  I appreciate you.”  Then she held out the baby.  “Do you want to hold your little sister?”

Piper slid her arms under Macy and cuddled her close, eyes locked on the baby’s tiny, smushed, red face.  “Oh,” she breathed.  “Look how perfect she is.  Look how beautiful.”

Scott moved a rocking chair close to the fire, and Piper sank into it, never taking her eyes off her sister’s face.  Naomi watched, heart-full, as her oldest daughter fell in love with her youngest.  Scott slid an arm around her shoulders and squeezed.

“What am I going to do with all these pretty girls?”  He murmured.  “If only my high school buddies could see me now.  Scott the Nerd, surrounded by cute chicks.”  They smiled into each other’s eyes, enjoying their history and these new moments, as their family re-formed into something wondrous and new.  Then he let her go and started his characteristic bustling.

“This settles it, honey.  We’re getting a generator, just as soon as I can get to the store and buy one.”  He left the room, and puffed back in a few minutes later with another mattress.  “No reason we can’t all be comfortable.  If the power doesn’t come back on, we’ll end up sleeping here anyway.  Have a seat, honey, and I’ll dish us up some soup.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon and the evening cocooned in the warmth of that room, admiring the baby and playing games, smiling as the dogs approached with cautious sniffs, laughing at Ares’ haughty disdain for the tiny new interloper.  The power wouldn’t come back on until the following morning, a fact Naomi would always remember with profound gratitude.

She lay in the stillness late that night, nursing the baby, listening to the soft pop and hiss of the fire, and reveling in the perfection of this slice of time.  Piper was burrowed deep in the covers, only her eyes and forehead showing, as usual.  Scott was curved around her back, his big body warm, strong, familiar.  And this tiny new person, sweet little mouth tugging at her breast, little body curved with the intensity of a nursing newborn, a whole new adventure spreading out before them.  She drifted to sleep knowing in her bones that this moment,
this exact moment
, was the happiest moment of her life.

Naomi opened her eyes.  She was lying on the floor in front of the cold fireplace in the cabin.  Hades was pressed against her back, from her nape to her knees, and Persephone was curled under her chin, against her chest.

Between her and the fireplace, wrapped in the soft, peach blanket so that only her hair showed, lay Macy.  In the grey light of early morning, her hair glowed with life.  Surely something that vibrant was alive?

Naomi lifted her hand, knowing, before she laid it on Macy’s body, what she would feel.  Stillness.  Stiffness.  A deep breath shuddered into her lungs, her first breath on the first morning without her daughter in it, and she howled.

Piper’s eyes snapped open in the grey stillness before dawn.  In the bed beside her, tuned to her every move whether he was awake or asleep, Brody tensed with sudden alertness.  His hand closed around her wrist.

“What is it?”  His voice was a hoarse grate in her ear. 

She strained to listen.  The silence was so complete, she could hear blood shushing in her ears.  After several long moments, she finally answered.  “Someone was screaming.”

Brody rose from the bed naked, oblivious to the chill, and ghosted to the window.  His face was sharp-edged in the soft gray light, his cold blue eyes quick and analytical as they scanned the area outside the cabin.  Piper watched him, rubbing at the center of her chest, which ached unbearably.  She felt like she’d been kicked by a mule. 

For the first time in the longest time, she thought of her family.  Of her brilliant and funny father, and sweet little Macy, and her maddening, tender mother.  They would be at the cabin by now, surely, with a menagerie of animals in tow.  She tried to picture them there, at this exact moment, using memory to create the image.  Her folks would be sleeping.  Macy might be awake, especially if Ares wanted his breakfast…

Brody slid back into bed beside her.  “I didn’t hear anything.  You must have been dreaming.”

Piper stared at the ceiling.  “I must have been.” 

Brody reached out and picked up a piece of her sleep-mussed hair, stroking it straight before winding it slowly around his hand.  He loved her hair, loved running his fingers through it, brushing it, and using it to make her do things she would never be able to speak of. 

“What are you thinking?”

She knew better than to say “nothing” by now.  “I was thinking about what Max taught me yesterday.  Edible plants.”

Brody grunted, and without another word, moved on top of her.  Piper put her arms around him – she had learned that, too – and shifted her body to accommodate his.  Tensing her muscles only made it hurt, and going limp was not tolerated, so she concentrated on a state that hovered somewhere in-between.  When she achieved the proper tension in her arms and legs, she focused on the knotty pine ceiling, tracing shapes with her eyes and naming them:  Owl.  Ghost.  Comet.  Edvard Munch’s
The Scream
. 

Like using the bathroom or brushing his teeth, this was just something Brody did in the mornings.  He finished in total silence, as always, and rolled off her.  She waited until he shut the bathroom door behind him before she rose and dressed quickly.  She never let him see her naked, if she could help it.  She sat at the tiny kitchen table, waiting for her turn in the bathroom, and her thoughts turned again to her family.

She didn’t want to think of them.  Hurt too much.  What would her father think of his little girl now?  He had always been so proud of her, so proud to claim her as his own.  And Macy idolized her – would she still, if she could see the depths to which Piper had sunk?  She saw their faces in her mind’s eye and cringed.  She didn’t know what to call what she’d become – whore or victim – but she couldn’t imagine revealing her current circumstances to either of the people she most adored in this world.  The ache in her chest blossomed into a throbbing burn that made it hard to breathe.  She squeezed her eyes shut and hummed a little repetitive tune, rocking to the rhythm of it in her chair.  Drown it out.  Don’t think about it. 
Don’t think about it.

She had felt this sensation once before, that first morning, when she woke up naked, bloody and alone in Brody’s
cabin.  He had tied her to the bed before he left, ankles and wrists.  Her chest had ached then, too, something deeper than her injuries, something missing, an emptiness.  She hadn’t spent much time puzzling over it; more urgent was the need to free herself, which of course, had proved impossible.

Brody had returned to find that she’d twisted her skin off in the attempt.  She had tried talking to him, that first morning.  He didn’t respond to a word she had to say.  Nor did he acknowledge her involuntary cries when he used her torn body again.  When he was finished, he untied her and tossed some clothes at her.

“Clean up and get dressed.  There’s a situation with the others that needs to be handled.”

She had done as he told her – the first of many times.  On the way to the mess hall, he had outlined the rules: Do not talk with the others, except to communicate necessities.  Do not hint or suggest that this situation is not of your choosing.  Do not cry or show any other signs of distress.  The consequences of violating the rules were simple:  People would die.

              She hadn’t believed him.  She’d actually thought he was being melodramatic.  She had nodded her acquiescence, but had pulled the sleeves of her sweatshirt up so the others would see her raw wrists, had held her head high and pushed back her hair, so they’d see the bruising on her face and throat.  Some of the other men had been trying to romance her; she hated to stoop to it, but she would use that if she had to.  This group valued strength and self-sufficiency.  They were rough, often crude, and she suspected all of them were capable of brutality.  But surely they wouldn’t allow this.  Surely they wouldn’t just abandon her to this.

             
When they had walked into the mess hall, she had learned just how badly she’d misjudged the situation.

             
She hardly recognized Levi when he charged at her, didn’t even have time to lift her hand to deflect the blow.  She was on the ground before she registered the pain, the right side of her face a red explosion, a deafening ringing in her ears.  She looked up at the hatred twisting his face, at the tears shining in trails down his cheeks, and didn’t even see him draw back his foot.  He kicked her savagely in the ribs twice before Brody stepped in front of her.

             
She curled into a ball, trying to wheeze in air, and heard him say, “Enough.  She made her choice.  It’s not her fault he couldn’t handle it.”

             
Piper’s head came up.  She squinted at Brody, at Levi, at the others, trying to make sense of what was happening.  That was when she saw Noah.

             
He was stretched out on one of the mess hall tables.  His skin was the strangest shade of gray she had ever seen.  His bloodshot eyes were open and filmy, his features frozen in a grotesque expression, tongue protruding from his wide-open mouth.  Around his neck, she could see where the rope had been, a deep, bruised indentation.  His sister Jenny was sitting beside him, humming softly and so, so carefully smoothing his hair, straightening his clothes, adjusting his hands.  Her face was serene and empty.

             
Behind her, Jenny’s husband was holding their only surviving child, his face as frozen as Jenny’s while their son sobbed.  The others were ranged about the room, grouped according to their alliances, and not one of them was making eye contact with her.

             
She looked at Noah’s face again, and the ache in her chest expanded.  She understood the emptiness now.  The connection that had been her friendship with Noah had been severed, leaving her with the raw, amputated stump of it.  She looked up at Levi and opened her mouth, but all the things she wanted to say were wrong:  I didn’t…  We weren’t…  It’s not... 

Help me. 

Finally, she managed, “I’m sorry.”

             
She thought Levi’s eyes would burst from his skull.  He tried to lunge past Brody, who blocked him smoothly.  “You’re sorry?  Sorry?  You worthless, god-damned bitch!”  He shook a piece of paper at her, spit flying as he raged.  “Did you think this wouldn’t crush him?  ‘Staying with Brody.  Take care.’  You’re a fucking whore, and you didn’t even have the decency to-” He choked on his words, crumpled the paper and threw it at her.  “I want her out of here.  Now.  I won’t have her here.”

             
Piper caught the paper reflexively, and her eyes flew around the room.  No one would look at her.  She looked up at Brody.  He was staring down at her, his eyes as arctic as ever, but a tiny smile played around his mouth.  She had known then,
known,
and the depth of his ruthlessness had stunned her.

             
He had planned this.  All of it.  From what he had said to Levi the night before in the mess hall, to the note he had made her write, to the death of a good and kind young man.  Noah never had a chance.  He had been dead as soon as Brody decided on this course of action.

             
The only person in the group who knew her well, or cared enough to look past the surface, had been eliminated.  Levi hadn’t liked her from the start, and now he had even less reason to believe her, much less help her.  She had been keeping a cool distance from the rest of the men, per Levi’s instructions.  And she hadn’t had a chance – or the desire, to be honest – to connect with the other women.  Jenny was drowning in grief, and Ruth wasn’t exactly approachable.  Piper looked around the room one last desperate time, calculating.  He couldn’t kill them all. If she told them all the truth–

             
Brody knelt beside her on the pretense of helping her up, speaking so that only she could hear.  “I can see what you’re thinking.  I wouldn’t recommend it.”  He inclined his head towards young Caden, weeping inconsolably in his father’s arms.  “He’s next.  Then Jenny.  I’ll make it look like they couldn’t handle the grief of Noah’s death, and that will come back on you.”  He helped her stand on watery legs, keeping his back to the group.  “At best, they all think you’re fickle or an opportunist.  At worst, they’ll throw you out of the group, on your own, with no supplies.  They won’t believe you, and if you do get someone to listen to you, you’ll be causing more death.  It’s on you.”

             
He had put an arm around her shoulders, steering her towards the door and speaking over his shoulder to the group.  “We’ll talk about this later.”

             
She had dared one last look, and this time, they had all been staring at her.  Emotions had ranged from disapproval to hatred, but their eyes had all conveyed the same message:  Your fault.  They all believed it.  And from that moment on, she did, too.

             
For three days, Brody had kept her separated from the group.  In that time, Piper had reasoned, empathized, wept, mocked, raged, begged and then screamed, screamed, screamed when Brody meted out his retribution.  The first time she forced herself to obey him, it had shamed her.  By the end of those three days, she was no longer capable of feeling shame.  In fact, she didn’t feel anything at all.

Since then, Piper had learned so much.  She had learned to follow the rules, to the letter.  She had learned to pretend so convincingly, she nearly fooled herself.  She had learned to be silent.  No matter what she thought or felt, the words stayed in her throat, frozen and still.  These days, it took a concentrated effort to talk at all. 

She had also learned how to insulate herself from the outside world.  She could stare at nothing indefinitely, watch the tops of trees sway for hours, lose herself watching an ant struggle along under a crumb three times his size.  Numb.  Blank.  In these ways, she made it from one breath to the next.

Outside the cabin window, the forest was warming to pink with the rising sun.  Birds flitted from the tree tops to the forest floor and back again.  Piper tried to attach her mind to their movements, to achieve the drifting, moment-to-moment trance that had been her refuge, but couldn’t.  She shifted in her chair, uncomfortably aware of her skin.  She felt electrically alive this morning, unbearably awake.

She rubbed again at the ache in the center of her chest and frowned.  “What the hell?”

Her mother’s face bloomed in her mind – plump and soft, filled with love and intelligence.  It was the intelligence that had always pissed Piper off – how could she choose such a mundane life?  Where was the desire to better herself, to be
something
other than a housewife?  Since she was 12, her mother had been a source of embarrassment and irritation. 

But in spite of their strained relationship, Piper had been aware of a connection to her mother since the start of the plague, an awareness that felt like a homing beacon.  Like she could close her eyes and start walking, and she’d end up with her mom.  At first it had irritated her, but she’d gotten over that in a hurry.  Funny, what a 99% death rate could do for even the most troubled of relationships. 

Before Brody, she had longed to rejoin her family.  Josh, their communications specialist, had tried every day to raise someone in the Colorado Springs area on his short-wave radio, hoping they could locate her family and come up with a plan to reunite them.  Since Brody, she had thought of her family as little as possible.

Until today.  The screaming she had awakened to echoed in her head.  She felt like she was standing with her toes on the edge of a cliff.

The bathroom door opened, and Piper smoothed the frown off her face.  She let her eyes go soft-focus and turned towards the window as Brody moved around the cabin.  He tended to leave her alone when she was still and blank like this, and usually it wasn’t an act.  In the movements of birds, there was no Brody.  Today, though, her mind was stuttering to life under her zombie façade, whether she liked it or not.

As clearly as if he were sitting beside her, her father’s voice sounded in her ear.  “Make a choice, honey.”