My chest aches. I picture Luna’s face, and it’s like someone’s pressing their fingers into my ribs, steady and hard against the control I keep clutched there. I hate not knowing. I hate sitting still while the world turns to shit. This sitting around waiting for someone else to decide our course is extremely hard for me and goes against everything that I am. I’m the one who decides, I’m the one who makes the world bend to my will. Anger thrums over my skin and my fingers twitch against the ground. I feel the faintest sensation again. Like the water and the air hums when I think about it too hard. Something’s waking up inside me. I don’t understand it, but I can’t ignore it anymore.
I look over at Reid. He’s staring up at the moon with his jaw tight.
He whispers, “We’re not normal anymore.”
I nod once and let a small smirk slide over my lips. “Good. Normal’s overrated.”
I lay my head back against the brick, feeling the cold seep through my hoodie. I don’t know what the hell we’re walking into tomorrow. I don’t know how long it’ll take us to get home. But I know one thing, I’m getting us back to her.
To Luna.
And if this new power inside me is what it takes to protect her and the others, then I’ll use every bit of it.
Chapter 51 - Luna
The morning starts like all the others since the moon cracked. Strangely quiet, every sound outside muted like the world is holding its breath. I wake to the smell of vinegar and the faint hum of Gigi’s K-pop playlist drifting in from the kitchen. Her voice joins in, off-key, mangling most of the Korean words and completely unapologetic about it as I drag myself out of bed.
We have to keep going, keep prepping, keep pretending things might one day go back to normal but make ourselves ready in case they don’t. I step into my bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth, but as I’m leaning over the sink I catch something in the mirror, and the toothbrush in my hand drops with a clatter. My eyes are full of shock as I stare at my reflection. I lift wet fingers and part some of my hair to get a better look at what I thought I saw. I swallow hard when my fingers trace the two-inch section of pure silver hair that now streaks through the red. I’m slightly confused but not all that surprised when I think about it. Not after what’s been happening.
I drop my hand away so my hair falls back into place, covering the silver, and huff out a breath. Is this trauma? Shock? Is my body finally catching up to all the hell that’s been dumped on me and prematurely aging me? I take in the deep, dark circles under my eyes and finally shrug. Yeah, that tracks. So, I finish brushing my teeth and tie my hair back into a ponytail, making sure to cover my new silver streak with red before turning away from the mirror to go get dressed.
By the time I join her, Gigi’s already got a batch of cucumbers soaking in brine. The whole kitchen smells sharp and pickled. She looks up, eyes crinkling in a smile. She pours me a cup of coffee and then nudges a knife my way.
"Time to dice, Peach."
I nod, drain half the coffee, grab one of the big bags of carrots, and start peeling them. We work in tandem as we keep processing all the fresh food we bought three days ago in our mad shopping spree. Most of the meat has been taken care of, either freeze-dried or sealed up in mason jars, but we still have a lot of veggies and fruit to go. Most of it will be canned, but we’ll also freeze-dry a bunch too, as long as we have power to do it. If things don’t turn out as bad as Gigi thinks and life returns to somewhat normal, we’re going to have a hell of a huge electric bill coming our way from running the freezers and the stove almost nonstop. I can’t bring myself to care.
The day drags on as we vacuum seal more of the dried meat, rice, and beans into the mylar bags. I keep a running tally in a notebook of inventory so we can figure out just how many meals we can make in the future if worse comes to worst. It’s reassuring and really fucking depressing at the same time, but every moment we spend doing this feels useful. Like a flimsy kind of armor against the fear pressing in from outside.
We don’t talk about the guys, but we’re both thinking about them. I check my phone in between tasks and try to not let myheart break or let my mind go to the darkest thoughts every time there’s no new messages from them. It’s starting to take a real toll on me.
Late afternoon rolls around, and Gigi heads out to the backyard for a smoke while I start slicing apples for dehydration. I hum along to the music she’s left playing and that’s when it happens. A weird sensation races down my back, lifting all the hairs on my body. It feels like someone’s watching me. I look up, and there he is. A man is standing half-concealed behind the elm tree across the yard, watching me through the kitchen window.
We lock eyes and then he bolts.
"Gigi!" I scream, heart hammering.
She runs back in, with a small pink-plated gun in hand that has my eyes flaring in surprise. “There was a m-man, a man was watching me, right outside from behind that tree.” I point to where he was standing and then turn back and point at the gun in her hand. It’s the smallest gun I’ve ever seen. I had no idea they even came in pink. “What is that? Where did you get it from?”
She shrugs one shoulder as she scans the yard through the window. “Husband number two had it custom-made for me years ago. I only kept it for sentimental reasons, but I’m glad I did. It only has two shots. It’ll get the job done if needed though, and it’s easy to carry.”
A flash of fear crosses through her expression when she turns from the window but it quickly turns to anger and she stomps toward the door. I follow her out, but whoever he was, he’s gone now. That lingering presence of being watched still skates over my skin causing a chill to cling to my skin even in the warm sunshine. I’m scared it was someone who might want what we have and that we’ll have to do something extreme to stop them. We go back inside and I double-check every lock, even though I already know they’re secured. I try not to cry asI load the shotgun, stand it nearby, and then go back to work, laying out the apple slices on the freeze-drier trays with shaking hands. It’s the first time in my life that I don’t feel safe in this house.
Supper is quiet, neither of us talking while we eat. Every creak of the house makes me jump. The fear and anxiety, the non-stop work we’ve been doing, and now this new possible threat have drained me. Penny has picked up on the tension and paces around the house from room to room, never settling in one place for long but always stopping to push her nose into my lap for a brief scratch behind her ears before she moves on again. Gigi reaches over the table and takes my hand.
“We’ll be all right, Peach. I promise. We just need to stay vigilant and be ready to act if something happens.” I nod my agreement, not sure that I believe it.
I toss and turn for hours that night, even though my body craves sleep, and when I finally succumb, I’ve barely drifted off when Gigi jolts me awake, her voice a sharp whisper.
"They’re inside. I heard them force the back door under my window."
My pulse spikes even as I grab the shotgun I’ve left on the other side of the bed. I don’t know what to do. I want to hide and scream at whoever is in my house to get out. Gigi checks the pink derringer she always keeps tucked in her pocket now.
“What do we do?” I ask her in a scared voice.
She cups my cheek. “Take the shotgun and hide in the closet with Penny. I’m going to go down and shoot the bastards.”
My eyes go wide as I jerk my head back and forth in denial. “No! We both hide. Let them take whatever they want. It’s not worth it, Gigi.” I plead with her in a harsh whisper.
