“Thank you,” she said quietly, eyes downcast. “I ... didn’t say that before. I should have.” She too was thinking about what might have happened if they hadn’t unexpectedly met up in the middle of an evacuation zone.
He nodded.
When he heard the shower running, he dumped a can of soup into a pot and opened a box of saltines. Not gourmet, but quick and filling. Then he changed Tot into a clean diaper and her fleece jammies. Only three diapers left in the duffel. That would be a problem soon enough.
And where was a baby going to sleep exactly? Could they stay put long enough for that to happen? Deep down he had a streak of optimism that simply would not die. This would work. Even if Cullen couldn’t see a way out, God could. And that really was the only reason Cullen could face each day, that inextinguishable spark that shone through his pain. Sometimes it was so minute, he could hardly see it.
With Tot happily gumming her plastic toy on the quilt, he returned to the closet once again for his rifle.
Another scan from the upstairs window indicated no cause for concern, and the driveway camera was quiet.He carried the rifle with him downstairs and stowed it in an out-of-the-way corner along with a backpack that he kept at the ready for emergencies. Of course, when he’d first prepared it, he’d been thinking wildfires or floods, not volcanoes and killers, but the supplies would help anyway. He added a carton of ammo and zipped it closed.
The baby had gone quiet, sound asleep with her arms flung wide as if she hadn’t a care. Lovely. He washed the bottle, plunged it in boiling water to sterilize it along with the nipple, and let it air dry. A single bottle was going to be as big a problem as the three diapers if they had to flee or the hot water gave out.
Kit emerged wearing the sweats, which sagged low on her hips until she hoisted them up to her waist. He tried not to notice that her middle was toned and smooth. He handed her a rubber band.
“This might help.” He waved a vague hand at her confusion. “You know ... cinch up the slack.”
“Oh.” She gathered a bunch of material and secured it with the rubber band. “Weird but resourceful.”
“We can put that on my tombstone. Next to your ‘Rest in peace with the paperclips’ motto.”
Her sudden smile was a surprise.
When the soup was ready, they sat at the table, and he thanked God for their survival. Kit sat uncomfortably through the grace, which he pretended not to notice. Her discomfort was secondary to his need to express gratitude. By all rights they should have been wiped out any number of times in the past eight hours, yet here they were with food and shelter and a baby that was very much alive. There was that spark again.
The weak light from the under-cabinet lamps dulled the bruise rising on Kit’s forehead around the bandage.
“How’s the head?”
“Pounding like a drum. How’s the knee?”
He twitched. She’d noticed the limp? “I ... it’s okay.”
“Old injury?”
His mouth refused to answer for a moment. “Yeah. Job related.”
“What’s your job?”
“Now, I raise horses.”
She blew on a spoonful of hot soup and waited. The expectant silence was worse than the throbbing in his patella.
“I was a cop. Call went bad. I got hurt and retired.” So few words that contained a whole world inside them.
She tipped her chin up, and he knew she sensed the scarred place he was trying to cover up. For the briefest tick he had the urge to spill it all. Instead, he ate a spoonful of soup and burned his mouth swallowing too fast. He cleared his throat and checked his phone. “Cameras are still operational, so that’s a relief.”
“We have to find a way out. Mount Ember is going to erupt. Soon.”
“Until first light, we can’t go anywhere. Roads are way too treacherous.”
She fiddled with her water glass. “But what’s the long game? We can’t stay here and wait for the mountain to explode or for them to find us.”
“Nor can we drive around in the dark without wrecking or broadcasting our location. Before first light we go.”
“Where?”
“Not sure.”
