Brannick reaches across and clasps my forearm so I grab his. “Thank you for the warning, friend. I have the scent of it now and will be vigilant for it going forward.”
It feels wrong to leave him after everything, but he’s not wrong. I need to keep going. He takes off my sweatpants, getting ready to shift. "Hold on a minute," I tell him as I get an idea. I drop the last half-empty pack of jerky into one of the legs and tie them into a loop that he can put around his wolf’s neck after he shifts. He leans in to hug me but I hesitate as his giant dick sways my way and teach him how to bump fists instead, making him laugh.
“Be well, Stoneheart.”
“You too, Wolfman.”
I watch him shift and vanish into the trees like a ghost and I'm shocked at how alone it makes me feel. Now I kind of wish I had accepted that hug.
Since then, it’s been me. Just me, the open fields, and the creeping dread that I’m too late and something horrible might have happened at home.
I ditched the ATV in Calgary after putting holes in all of the tires. I was trying to get around a rolled-over transport and didn't realize that it was a truckload of nails strewn across the road until it was too late. There were people around and I got distracted by the way some of them were eyeing up my transportation. Some were crying and others were shouting, desperate for answers that none of us have. A few were looting a grocery truck like it was Christmas morning. One guy had a machete. Not cutting anything, just waving it around like a warning. Where do you even get a machete in fucking Canada?
I walked away from that real fast. I walked the ring road that goes around the city, not wanting any part of the 1.5 millionpeople losing their shit. It took hours to get around it and away from the chaos. I slept under an overpass last night in hopes of avoiding anyone and woke up even more tired and sore. But I kept walking, what else could I do? I have to get home. I found a beat-up hatchback with its door ajar and keys dangling from the ignition like a gift from the gods an hour south of the city. I hesitated, having never stolen anything in my life. Not even a pack of gum. But I had Luna in my head, my heart beating loud with her name.
I took the car.
I managed to get within about an hour of my town before it overheated. Steam poured from under the hood and all the dash lights lit up. So, I left it and started walking again. And always, always thinking of her. Thinking about how I’m going to ask her to be mine. Ask her to take a chance on us. Tell her that I don’t want to pretend anymore that she’s not the woman I want to spend my life with. That I’m done waiting for the right time.
The right time is now. I don’t care about leaking magic, strange powers, people losing their shit. The world can burn for all I care. I just want her. Once we are back together we can figure out the rest.
I keep putting one foot in front of another, zoned out as I picture her the way she’s all rumpled and sleep-soft when she’s just woken up and stumbles into the kitchen with cute, grabby hands reaching for coffee. I think about the way she laughs when she’s exasperated with me, like I’ve pushed her just far enough to make her threaten violence but not far enough that she actually means it. I think about how she looks when she doesn’t think anyone’s watching, sad and lonely. And how badly I want to make her feel safe. Feel wanted, loved. I’m not the best with words. Never have been, but when I see her again, I’ll find the ones that matter.
The sun’s almost overhead now. I’m finally nearing the outskirts of town as fields turn into post-apocalyptic subdivisions, half-built and half-burned. Smoke curls from a couple of roofs in the distance, and the smell of fire lingers in the air like something permanent. I spot the Welcome sign for the town and pick up my pace. Almost there.
I’m getting excited to be almost home when I hear danger up ahead. Someone yells in outrage and multiple hard voices bark back orders. A gunshot rings out and a few people scream. What the fuck is happening in my town? I duck to the side and crouch low behind one of the abandoned cars lining the road into town and peer out. Whatever’s going on, I need to be ready. I’m too close now to get mixed up in shit I don’t have time for. I frown in confusion at what I see down the road.
There’s a roadblock ahead with barricades that completely close the road. There are even a couple of armored trucks and soldiers. Not cops or rent-a-security guys. These guys look like serious military, full camo, guns drawn, yelling at people to get out of their vehicles. I just traveled a good portion of this province and didn’t see a single soldier, not even around Calgary. So what the fuck are they doing here in my small town? I know there’s a training base not that far away from here, but why wouldn’t they have been deployed to the bigger city centers instead of here? I crouch lower and keep watching, trying to understand.
One by one, folks are being forced from their cars and loaded onto a bus. No explanations or questions. Just herded away and not in a very nice way. These guys seem like they’re enjoying the power a little too much right now.
As I watch, my fists clench. This isn’t right. None of this is right. If they tried to pull that shit on Luna… No. No, they won’t because I’m getting there first and they’ll have to go through me if they want to touch her.
I grip the straps of my pack, adjust the rifle slung to the side as my heart pounds like a drum. Not much farther now, but I need to know what’s happening here first, so I slip from the road and shadow the bus from a street over when it moves out.
Chapter 62 - Luna
Gigi wraps the scarf around her neck twice, tucking the ends into a stylish curl with a tight little smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
"I'll be back before sunset," she tells me, patting the little gun tucked into her pocket. "Keep that shotgun close, Peach. Just in case."
I nod, my heart feeling like a clenched fist in my chest. "Be careful, please."
She shoots me a wink and climbs into my Jeep that’s loaded with gas cans, and then pulls out of the driveway. I watch her until she disappears around the corner, that tight flutter of anxiety picking at my insides. The moment the garage door closes, the silence slams into me, thick and oppressive, but I don’t let it paralyze me.
Instead, I start working. There’s still food cooling from this morning’s canning session and more vegetables that need to be washed and set for freeze-drying. I keep moving so I don’t spiral. Keep chopping, sealing, storing. Gigi says we might have to run, that things are getting worse out there. I prep like we will haveto leave, and hope she can find more gas so we can take the motor coach that I’ve been filling with boxes of supplies. It’s the smartest thing to take as it will give us shelter and room to pack as much as possible. It’s an all-in-one if we need to leave here.
When the last jar is labeled and tucked away, I wipe my hands and head for the bedrooms. One by one, I pack bags for all of us. I don’t want to think about the idea of having to abandon this house, the home we’ve built from the ruins of our grief, but if it comes to that… I’ll be ready. I’ll make sure we all have what we need to survive. Tears sting my eyes as I fold one of Atlas’s old hoodies into my bag.
In the garage, I find the moving boxes the guys used when they moved in. I tape them together, folding them into place, and start filling them with more of the food. Freeze-dried bags, sealed jars, whatever I can fit. I want it easy to grab and go if we need to move fast, so I stack boxes by the man door in the side of the garage next to where the coach is parked. My muscles ache by the time I finish, but it doesn’t matter; the pain is a good distraction from my fear.
I add the photo albums last. I can’t leave them, I won’t.
When I glance out the kitchen window again, the sun is already on its way down and there is no sign of Gigi.
I stare out the back windows that overlook the town, chewing my bottom lip in indecision. Every part of me wants to run after her. Take the shotgun and go find her. But what if she’s just been delayed? What if we pass each other on the road and I’m not here when she comes back? I pick up my phone from the counter and want to throw it to the ground and stomp my foot on it when it still has no damn service.
I hate this. I fucking hate this, but I stay and I wait for her to come back, for all of the people I love to come back.
