Page 47 of Sawyer’s Mistake

Saoirse looked at Alix. “What do we do?”

“Prado and I brought back some things that may help,” she said, shrugging. “Vitamins and something for the nausea.” Both medications had identical chubby, smiling babies on the front. At the sight, Eva paled even further.

Saoirse took her friends hands in hers and looked up at her friend. “If any two people can take care of a baby in this crazy world, then that's you and Storme.” She knew it’d been the right thing to say when Eva smiled.

Suddenly, they heard voices below. The team was back. Saoirse felt her heart soar when she heard Sawyer’s voice. He was okay.

“Please don’t say anything to Storme,” Eva begged. “Not yet.”

Alix looked at her pityingly. “You have to tell him tonight,” she said.

#

Jake

“Stop thinking about it, Sawyer,” Meir said, perceptive as ever. “We did the best we could for them. We left them as much equipment and vehicles as we could, including the vehicle we went back for. They’ll have to make their own way now.”

Sawyer nodded. He knew his friend was right, but ever since they’d left the yacht, he’d been struggling with an equal mixture of relief and regret. Relief that it was over and that Paul and Miranda wouldn’t hurt anybody else again. Regret that they’d left thirty people to their own devices, in a world that was no longer fit for normal people. People like his parents, like his sisters.

In the early morning fog, the chimneys of the old factory looked almost like they were smoking. They parked the car next to the van, where it wouldn’t be visible from anywhere outside the complex.

“I’m taking a shower first,” Kopf said, making a show of sniffing his armpits.

Showering wasn’t at the top of Sawyer’s mind. On the way back to the factory, he’d stopped lying to himself about his feelings for Saoirse. He didn’t just want to have sex with her. He needed to hold her, to talk to her.

They knocked five times in quick succession then waited before knocking again. Prado came up to open the door for them. In the main room, Saoirse and Alix were curled on opposite ends of an extra-large couch, their expressions gloomy.

As soon as she saw him, Saoirse jumped up from the couch and ran to him, burying her head on his shoulder.

“Jake! You’re back!” she sobbed, jumping into his arms. He held her tightly. “You’re all back,” she amended, stepping back to include the rest of them in her greeting. His relief at seeing her, alive and well, was tempered by the strange feeling that something was wrong. The tension in the room could have been sliced with a knife.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Sawyer asked, his hand resting on Saoirse’s head. He should let go of her. He was filthy, and she smelled too soft and clean.

“Where’s Eva?” Storme asked, looking around.

“She’s resting in her room,” Saoirse said diplomatically. “She wasn’t feeling well.”

None of them missed the look that passed between Prado and Alix.

“What do you mean she’s not feeling well?” Storme asked, his voice a low rumble.

“She’s okay,” Prado said, as if realizing Storme was imagining the worst. “Go up and speak to her.”

Before Prado could finish his sentence, Storme bounded up the stairs, taking them three at a time.

“Eva!” he shouted. “Eva!”

A moment later Eva herself appeared at the top of the stairs.

“I’m here. I’m okay,” she said, her hazel eyes fixed on Storme.

Storme reached her and held on to her. “You look so pale,” he said, staring daggers at Prado. Alix stood protectively in front of the slighter man.

“Don’t look at him like that. We’ve all been taking good care of her.”

“Let’s go back upstairs, Eva,” Storme begged. “You need to lie down.”

Eva straightened her spine and moved to face them all. She made her way back down the stairs, past the point where Storme was standing, frozen.