Later, Sam sneaks in line to join us. Eyes laser-focused, she pulls a virtual zipper across her mouth to stop me from asking questions.
The meeting room, about the size of a basketball court, contains roughly two dozen chairs facing a raised wooden platform.
Another spa group, twice our numbers, glowers at us when we walk in. A suited TED-talk man on the stage smiles, holding a sharpie beside a newsprint pad of paper. In block red letters, the word Survival is written over his hand-drawn atomic cloud.
Say what? This your idea of a day spa?While my shoulder angel chastises me, the man in front of the room introduces himself. Dr. James Lewis graduated magna cum laude from Yale, or so he says. How the hell would I know? It’s not like anyone has access to the internet to fact-check him.
The longer he speaks, the more I fidget and wish to go home. Who knew there were so many end-of-the-world scenarios? According to him, at any minute, we could be wiped out by climate change, asteroids, nuclear war, or someone poisoning our water supply. The list goes on and on. By the time he finishes, I’m shaking.
So much for a relaxing retreat. What the actual fuck?
Not done scaring the shit out of us, Mr. TED Talk flips to the next piece of paper. “Mere hours after a significant event, people will loot. This will escalate to killing to survive. Experts say it will take less than a week for those lacking a hive to die.”
He appears to take joy in our horror. “But don’t worry. We are your hive. We have food, water, and generators. We have everything you and your families will need. Armed men will protect our perimeters. The forest has plenty of animals for hunting. Community gardens will provide the vegetation. We have canning facilities and wood-burning stoves. We have a self-contained sewage composting plant. You will not only survive, but you will flourish. We will create a new generation of Americans who can withstand those who would steal their future.”
Reaching his frenzied last note, he bows. “Thank you. We only have a few openings left. Once we have reached our capacity, no more will be allowed in.”
When the applause dies down, Dr. Lewis approaches our group. “I hope you enjoyed my presentation.”
Shoulder Beyoncéinstantly grumbles.I’d rather have a wisdom tooth pulled.
Ignoring her, I pretend to gush enthusiasm. “When my neighbor, Dolly told me about this place, I simply had to come. I’m sure you remember her. She was here last week. White hair, round face, quiet?”
“Sorry, we have so many guests. It’s difficult to keep them all straight.” His paling face indicates I hit a nerve.
Turning to a tableful of stapled documents, he places a set in each of our hands. “We have extra discounts for Vets and those in law enforcement.”
Melissa, who appears from nowhere, doles out cheap blue pens. “We require your husbands’ signatures as well. This allows us to move forward.”
Hard sell much?I smile sweetly. “My spouse and I don’t sign anything unless the other one agrees. Sorry.”
After my friends decline using similar reasoning, Blake winks. “Excellent try, Dr. Lewis. We can find our way back to our rooms. Come on, ladies, we need our beauty sleep.”
Linking arms, we march toward the exit. At the door, I glance back at the red-faced man. I get the distinct feeling that not many people say no to Dr. Lewis.
Chapter 6
“A man might befriend a wolf, even break a wolf, but no man could truly tame a wolf.” — George R.R. Martin
Axel
A sense of unease causes me to leave work early. It grows more during the drive home. By the time I arrive at Lochlan’s house, I’m ready to lose my shit.
Thankfully, he picked up my kid along with my dog. Otherwise, we’d be further behind the ladies.
Three cement steps later, I ring the smart-bell. While I pause, Bear barks, footsteps race, and kids shout. Polly, a girl around eight, reaches the door first. My grinning, flour-encrusted Abbie pops up behind her.
“Hi, Daddy.”
“How ya doin’, short stuff?” Tousling her hair, I thank God she’s part of my life and renew my vow to protect her forever.
My heart surges at her innocent grin. “I’m fine. We’re making choc’late chip cookies, and then we’re going to watch a movie, and Lucy is going to show me her Barbies and…”
Because this one sentence could run on for another sixty seconds, I toss her in the air. Once she stops to catch her breath, I let her down, pat my dog, and greet my friend, Lucky, about to address his troops.
“Oi, everyone, listen up. You kids be good for Frieda, ya hear me?” Having received all their nods, he reviews the emergency numbers with his nanny, then slaps me on the back.
“We better be off.” His worried face says everything I need to know.
