Vanished (12 page)

              “Wow,” Trin glances at me and seeing the scowl on my face she replaces the look of awe and wonderment with a frown, “I see…it’s
not
a good thing,” she says as if she’s telling herself.

              “No. It’s not.”

              “You don’t want kids?”

              “Not really.”
Not like this
, I think to myself.

              “Any particular reason?”

              “Honestly,” I adjust the bag in my grip and tell a half-truth, “Because I’m afraid I’ll be like my old-man.”

              “I understand.”

              When we pull up at Maddie’s apartment building, I think I see a flash of movement to the right of the building.  I jump out of the car and run across the street hearing the sound of Trin’s foot-steps close behind me.  When I reach the side of the building, I step around and see some bushes and an alley leading back to a parking lot but no one is there.   

              “What is it?” Trin asks, catching up with me.

              I shake my head and lean over putting my hands on my knees, “I thought I saw something moving but, as you can see,” I gesture toward the parking lot, “nothing there.”

              She peers around the building, “Maybe a dog or an animal?” She asks but I hear the same fear in her voice that is clutching at my chest. 

              “I don’t think so.”

              “Then what?”

              Do I tell her my suspicion or do I say something to make her feel better? It’s been a long day and her face is still pale from our conversation in the bookstore.  Then I remember her diving into the lake in the Ozarks and how she straddled that boy and saved his life. She doesn’t need protection from the truth, “It could have been another person,” I say, “all I saw was a shadow, but it could have been.”

              She raises her eyebrows and hugs herself, “That would be a good thing, wouldn’t it?”

              “Maybe” I’m not sure I want to wait and find out.  “Let’s get inside.”

              I take one more look down the alley and follow her up to the building.

Chapter Eleven

Trin

              When we get inside Logan disappears for a few minutes and returns to the living room, where Zayn, Collin, Jasmine and I are gathered, with a look of relief in his eyes.  Madison trails after him.  “So,” Zayn says, breaking the ice, “I’m detecting some tension around here.” His eyes flash to Logan who sits next to me on the couch and then to Maddie who climbs down into Collin’s lap and kisses him on the cheek right in front of everyone. Collin wears a grin that spreads from ear to ear.  Zayn looks over at us like he expects to see Logan fly out of his chair and destroy Collin but Logan just winks at him. 

              Jasmine is tucked in under Zayn’s arm fast asleep after he convinced her to take one of Madison’s mom’s sleeping pills. Her thin brown arm is draped over his stomach and she’s wrapped in a furry throw. 

              “This is weird guys.” Zayn says.

              “This is
permanent
,” Logan says bluntly.  “How’s she doing?” He nods at Jasmine.

              Zayn’s smile melts and a dark expression settles on his face, revealing worry lines and bags under his eyes I didn’t see before. “She’s not handling this well.”He leans back and holds his hands palm up, “She’s starting to get seriously depressed. I’m not sure what to do.” 

              Logan clears his throat, “Who else besides me thinks Jaz’s dreams might actually be visions.” We look at him. He shrugs, “Something strange has happened to
most
of us and simultaneously Jaz starts having these dreams, come on guys.”

“Let’s keep a close eye on her,” Logan advises, “If she gets worse Maddie’s mom probably has some kind of Prozac regimen we can put her on. Maybe that will help.”

Madison doesn’t seem offended by him telling everyone that her mom takes anti-depressants.

“I have something else I want to talk to you all about,” Logan says, and he starts twisting the hairs in his go-tee, “I think we need to stock up on weapons.”

              Collin sits up almost tossing Madison out of the chair and I look sharply over at Logan. “Why do you say that?” Madison asks.

              “I don’t want to add any more creepiness to an already creepy situation but my gut tells me we should be more cautious. I know it seems like we’re alone in the city but if others survived they might not be friendly.”

              I have never even thought about the possibility that we might need to defend ourselves, especially not against fellow survivors, if there are any.  Suddenly, an image of Judge coming toward me down a dark street in the middle of the night flashes through my mind and I decide not to argue with Logan’s suggestion. 

              “I’ve got to take Jaz home tomorrow, at least to get some closure, I promised I would.” Zayn says.  His black hair falls into his amber eyes and he swipes it away irritably. 

I look around the living room and realize they all look as exhausted as I feel. 

Logan addresses Zayn, “That shouldn’t be a problem.  We’ll split up tomorrow. Three teams.  We’ll make a list of supplies we need and each group can bring something back.”

The teams form naturally; Collin and Madison, Zayn and Jasmine which leaves Logan and I.  We plan to visit his house and mine and he picks weapons and ammo for us to bring back. Logan says he knows where we can get both.  The others pick items to retrieve off the list of supplies we need; grocery items, hygiene stuff, clothing, and medicine.

              When we’re done, we can barely keep our eyes open.  “Listen,” Logan says, “I want everyone to be extra careful tomorrow and head back here at the first sign of anything weird.” 

              His paranoia is starting to get to me a little.

              Maddie shows me to one of several guest-rooms. I don’t even bother to pull down the comforter.  I can’t remember the last time I had a good night’s sleep. My head hits the pillow and I say a silent prayer that I don’t dream.  For once, God listens.

__#__

              In the morning, I lie in bed and watch the sun rise.  Knowing what I have to do today does not motivate me to get out of bed.  I listen to the sounds of people getting up and think about how different they are from the sounds I’m used to.  I hear laughter, someone knocks something over and curses loudly, more laughter and someone singing in the shower. 

              I like these sounds.  I could get used to them.  But even as I think the thought a guilty feeling settles in my stomach.  Never seeing my mom and step-dad again is bearable, but never seeing Elijah and Isaac is not.  If I have the choice, if my family hasn’t vanished like everyone else, I know I’ll stay with them and I may never see my friends again.  A sob rakes through me and I curl inward.  If I’m going to cry, I’d rather do it here in the privacy of the guest-room than in front of the others.

I don’t know what hurts worse; the thought of losing the twins, or the thought of staying with them. 

              When my sobs run dry I force myself to get out of bed and shower.  The steam relaxes the muscles that tightened up while I cried.  I touch my cheek and there is only dull pain, the bruise is almost totally faded. Next I inspect my calf and, though it’s bruised, it looks like it’s healing well.

              I step out of the bathroom and notice a stack of freshly laundered clothes on my bed.  I don’t know where my luggage is, probably still in the pile with everyone else’s at the front door.  Madison must have slipped in and left me something to wear. I’m not sure if that’s her being nice or continuing her game of dressing me up.  It doesn’t matter.  I don’t even care what she left me.  I know I don’t want to put my baggy clothes back on.  I’m not sure if my indifference to what I’m going to wear is prompted from doubt that my family will be there or if it comes from some subconscious masochistic desire to flaunt my defiance in Judge’s face one last time, if he survived.

              The pants are brown suede and cling snugly to my waist, hips, thighs and legs. There’s a lace chemise and a royal blue velvet top that buttons up the front where ruffled velvet gathers over my chest. I put them on surprised, once again, that they fit me so perfectly. Madison has a knack for this sort of thing.  I half expect her to show up with her make-up kit but those times are probably over after everything that’s happened. 

              I don’t have her skills though, so I blow dry my hair and, out of habit, tie it up in a thick bun.  I look in the mirror and pull a few wisps of bangs out in the front, letting them dangle on each side of my face covering the unsightly scar on my forehead.

              Finally, I inspect the shiny brown boots propped against the bed.  Madison must know I can’t wear anything with heels.  The boots are flat and glamorous and like nothing I would ever pick for myself.  I slide them over the soft, suede pants and zip them up on the sides.  Even without the make-up, in these clothes the girl in the mirror doesn’t look like me.  She looks like a younger, softer version of my mother and she’s actually a little pretty. I want to like her.  I want to believe in her but more than anything I want to be as strong as she looks.

              My hand is on the doorknob when there’s a knock on the door.

              Logan is standing on the other side, “You oTrin?” He asks.

             
Did he hear me?
I say a silent prayer he didn’t and his concern is just general, “Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, stepping back and opening the door so he can come in, “I missed my guardian angel last night though.”

              “Actually, I was right outside the door,” he thumbs over his shoulder at an uncomfortable looking chair in the hall and smiles awkwardly raising his hand up to touch the back of his neck.
He did hear me
, I think in silent horror.  We stand like that for a minute in silence.  I’m not sure what the look means to him, but for me it’s an admission that I’m scared, that I want him to do what he said in the hospital, to wrap me up in his arms and tell me everything is going to be oTrin.  The look lingers too long and he breaks it, shutting the door quietly behind him. “About yesterday,” he starts.

              I hold my hand up. “I
really
don’t want to talk about it.”

              He nods and I want to kiss him for not looking at me like I’m broken, for the lack of pity in his eyes.  He looks over at the bathroom, then back to me and his lips curve up in a mischievous smile.  It reminds me of a look he gave me that first morning at the lake house when I couldn’t keep my eyes off his stomach. I take a wary step back. “You know, I could use a shower” he says and before I can think of how to respond, he peels off his t-shirt.

I inhale sharply and cover my eyes but immediately peek through my fingers.  “What are you doing?” I say, looking jerkily at the door, at the floor, at anything to avoid looking at Logan in all his glory. 
Don’t be a coward, Trin
, a voice whispers in my mind.  I slowly peel my fingers away from my face.  He’s strutting toward the shower with his back to me. I see a huge black and gray tattoo stretching from shoulder to shoulder and down to his lower back.  It’s a globe, an eagle and an anchor with the words “Semper Fidelis,” in Old English written on an unraveling scroll hanging from the eagle’s mouth. 

              “The marines?” I blurt out. He stops and turns to look back at me.

              I’m shocked again to see that across his chest just above his pectoral muscles are the words,
Agnes Ann, RIP
next to a small cross beside his heart.  His chest, other than the tattoo, is just as I’d imagined it, smooth, tan, the muscles taut and cut… the six-pack leading down....

I realize I’m staring but I can’t force myself to look away. He gives me a satisfied grin, “Yeah, I forgot you didn’t know about these,” he says, indicating the tattoo on his chest, “this one is for my mom,” he touches the cross and then points at the one on his back, “A week ago my brother Josh came home on leave for a few days.  We got drunk and I ended up joining the marines and getting that one.”

             
“You joined the marines?”

              He shrugs, “Yeah, like my dad, my brother, grandfather, it was either that or patch into the local one percent bike gang. I’m not really college material, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

              “I hadn’t actually,” I retort, “but I guess none of us are going to college now.”

              He smiles and holds out his hands, “I’m ready to skip all that, settle down and make babies with you right now, Snow,” he says, his eyes glinting blue and a broad roguish smirk on his face, “we can get started right now, if you want.”

              He’s teasing me but heat still fills my face as I try to think of a witty come-back, “Tempting, but I think you already have your hands full in that department.”

              “Ohh, burn, she’s on fire,” he sings and disappears into the bathroom, leaving the door open.