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chapter thirty-nine

Tuck

Day Seventeen

We left the laundromat behind as soon as the sky had gone from black to platinum gray. The sound of engines roared in the distance followed by a pop, and a chill shuddered through me when I thought of what might be happening in all those downtown hotels that apparently had been taken over. Was anyone being helped or taken in? Or had those buildings all become magnets for crime and brutality?

“What are they doing down there?” Emily asked, obviously having heard the same distant sounds.

“They’re surviving the same way they always have,” I murmured. “Only now, the rules favor them.”

Dogs howled, and my heart gave a sharp knock when I wondered who was feeding them. Even people who loved their pets were going to prioritize their human family. Dogs can hunt if they need to , I told myself. There was only so much I could worry about at the same time. If I let my mind run away from me, I’d reel off into Crazytown.

“Fuck,” I hissed when we heard noise up ahead and looked around the corner. We’d taken this route here just the day before, but now part of it was blocked off by two cars parked hood to hood and a bonfire behind it where men with guns were conversing loudly, a cackle rising here and there. Beside me, Emily jumped when one of the men threw a bottle he’d been drinking from, and it shattered on the pavement.

“What will they do if they spot us?”

Maybe nothing. Maybe we’d get robbed. Or worse. “I don’t want to find out.”

Her eyes met mine. “We’ll have to travel around.”

“It’ll take hours longer,” I said. We leaned back behind the building, and I pounded it with my fist. “Fucking assholes,” I gritted. “We’re almost out of water. It was going to be just enough to get us out of the city and to a water source.” I swiped my hand through my unruly hair. “Let me think for a minute.” I started going over other routes we might take, but I was worried all of them might have similar roadblocks. The city was being taken over quickly, neighborhood by neighborhood, and now block by block.

We stood there, and I looked around, orienting myself, considering other places we might find some water. Where though, when the whole damn city must be hunting for the same thing? Emily suddenly grabbed my forearm. “I know a place where we might find some food and bottled water.”

“Where?” I asked skeptically.

“It’s a recording studio. It’s this nondescript building in the middle of a nondescript block. Artists who use it like it for its privacy and the fact that paparazzi don’t follow them there. Many of them record at night.”

I gestured for her to hurry and get to the point. Each moment now was crucial if we were going to get out of here.

“Anyway, there’s an entire room next to the booths that has snacks and cases of water.”

“How far?”

“About an hour’s walk from here.”

It was a risk. We might encounter other blockades. But there weren’t a lot of options and water was essential. I wanted to kick myself. I’d calculated and planned and determined we’d have enough to get in and out. I’d also hoped we might restock at my uncle’s when we picked him up. But I hadn’t anticipated having to take such long routes due to turf wars.

“Shit,” I murmured when we heard another vehicle approaching on the street with the men and the bonfire. I put my arm across her and pushed lightly, and we both plastered ourselves against the building, our eyes meeting in the gray light of dawn.

And then suddenly there was yelling and noise and the sharp pops of gunfire. “Run, go that way,” I hissed, and we both ducked and ran back down the block. I pulled Emily into a doorway when we’d gotten halfway and again, we pressed ourselves as close to the building as possible as the screech of tires came from the street beyond, the car turning onto the block where we were now hiding, tucked into shadow.

I held my breath as the car went tearing by, two bloody bodies crumpled onto the rear hood of a gold convertible, the driver—thankfully—focused straight ahead.

I blew out the breath I’d been holding and took her trembling hand. “Lead the way,” I said.

It took us forty-five minutes to make the walk, despite having to hide from approaching vehicles twice, the sky lightening from platinum to pearl as we traveled. The block Emily had directed us to was as nondescript as she’d described, a number of ugly square buildings with weeds growing through the small, paved sections in front. They almost appeared like storage facilities that had gone unused for some time. She was right, those searching for necessities wouldn’t likely bother with these. At least not until absolutely everything else had been looted.

We tried the front door, but that was locked. “There’s a door in the back,” Emily said, taking my hand as we rounded the structure. “And if not, we can break a window. There’s no need to worry about alarms now,” she murmured.

The back door was locked as well, but as she wiggled the handle, I noticed the shade move slightly on the window close by. I took her hand and pulled her so that we were on the other side of the door. “Someone just looked out of that window,” I said. Before she could answer, the back door squeaked open, and I shoved Emily behind me as I faced the person emerging.

It was a woman. And she was unarmed.

“Layne?” I heard Emily say from behind me where she was obviously peeking out.

“I knew that was you,” the woman named Layne said. “Oh my God. Come here. Are you okay?”

Emily stepped around me and Layne took Emily in her arms, and they embraced. “I can’t believe you’re here,” Emily said after she’d stepped back.

“I’m assuming you came looking for food and water too? Who’s your friend?”

“I’m so sorry. Tuck, this is Layne Beckett. She’s an amazing singer. Layne, Tuck Mattice. We walked from Illinois where my plane went down.”

“Holy shit, are you kidding me? No, of course you’re not. Nova, the things that are happening in this city right now.” She gave her head a small shake. “God, speaking of which, I’ve lost my mind. Come inside. Hurry.”

We all entered the building and Layne closed and locked the door behind us, leading us through a dark room to a space beyond where light was emanating. “There are no windows in here, so it’s safe to have some lights on. There were some battery-operated string lights and other mood lighting,” she said, turning slightly and using air quotes. “Oh, and Leon Lee is here. He’s your manager, right?”

“Yes,” Emily breathed. “Oh my God.”

“He’s sleeping in one of the booths. We got here at three a.m., and he needed to get some sleep.”

We entered the larger space, and I looked around at the carpeted bench seating lining the perimeter of the room. The floor was black, as were the walls, but the twinkle lights and other battery-operated lanterns and globes gave the place a peaceful glow. There were three recording rooms in front of this one, all of them with large viewing windows. Only one was open, the other two covered from the inside by black curtains.

Layne glanced at the watch on her wrist. “I’m supposed to wake Leon in thirty minutes. Can I get either of you something to eat? Water?”

“Yes, water would be great,” Emily said.

Layne opened one of the benches and reached inside. “We’ve hidden all the supplies in these,” she said. “In case anyone breaks in or whatever. Things are wild. I spend most of the day trying to believe this is even real.”

She handed us each a bottle of water, and I drank several sips but then capped it again. We’d grown used to rationing at this point. Emily did the same and then we sat down.

“You can’t be planning to stay here indefinitely,” Emily said to Layne.

“No, no, we aren’t. We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

“Leaving for where?”

“San Diego.” She looked back and forth between us. “You should both come. I’m sure Leon wouldn’t hesitate to take you with him.”

I frowned. “What’s going on in San Diego?”

“There’s a whole neighborhood in La Jolla that’s been turned into a safety zone. Leon’s been back and forth between there and here. He’s the reason I’m not hiding in my apartment with half a bag of Doritos and the water remaining in my toilet tank, knowing I would have to go out into the streets soon, or die alone.” She wrapped her arms around herself and drew her shoulders up. “It was terrifying, Nova. And I know your plane crashed, so you probably experienced worse than me.”

Emily reached across and took her hand and squeezed it. “Please, call me Emily. And yes, we all have stories,” she said.

Layne nodded, a jerky movement. “Leon helped Freddie and some others get there, which is how Leon knew about me. He’s been rescuing the people he can.”

“Wait, the San Diego thing,” Emily said, obviously as unclear as me about what was there. “What do you mean a ‘safety zone’?”

“It was actually organized years ago, luckily enough. There’s a community up in the hills above the ocean that has been running a co-op. A group of rich retirees who own these McMansions with huge yards got together and decided one would grow grapes, the other vegetables, another would keep chickens. They had a farmers market just among themselves every weekend and are self-sufficient if they want to be. I mean, these people are rich enough that they don’t even do any of the work themselves unless they want to. They have staff who live on-site now and take care of most of the labor. And there are pools in the majority of the backyards. They have water for years.”

Ah , a group of crunchy Californians with time on their hands, money burning a hole in their pockets, and a desire to feel like they were living off the land. Well, God bless them because it sounded like they were ahead of the curve. “Leon’s father was war buddies with one of the residents so that’s how he has an in. It’s grown a lot in the last couple of weeks as they’ve invited outsiders in. Leon made contact with a few strong men he knows who didn’t have a place to go. He offered them a spot in the community in exchange for guarding the gates. So now they have security. There are a couple of doctors among the residents, which is obviously important. And they love that Leon has brought in some artists and entertainers too. They know how important the arts will be going forward.”

Going forward.

“Oh,” Emily said. “I see.” She looked over at me, and for the first time in weeks, I realized I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. I felt hollow inside. I knew there was a wedge between us, and most of me hated it more than anything I’d ever hated, and part of me clung to it because I knew it’d be necessary for my survival when we parted. And the fact that history was repeating itself didn’t escape me either, which only added to my despair.

“How are you traveling there safely?” I asked. “There are barricades everywhere. Whatever path Leon took might already be closed.” Things were unwinding rapidly. Nothing could be counted on. Even if San Diego was less than two hours away by car.

“Yes. There are four blockades set up that are allowing people passage as long as they don’t stay. Guides will walk you through. They’re not bad people. They’re just trying to protect their own. Like I said, Leon’s traveled the route a few times, so they know and trust him.”

The door to one of the recording booths opened, and a man walked through looking sleep-mussed, his eyes widening when he saw Emily and me. “Emily? Holy shit. How the hell are you here?”

“Leon!” She practically ran over to him, and they hugged.

“My God,” he said after they’d let go. “Did you just randomly find your way here?”

She laughed and wiped a tear from her eye. “We came here for the food and water,” she said. And I had to admit the relief in finding these two people, even if I didn’t know them. They were part of Emily’s life, and damn, but it was good to know that decent people were still fighting through this. And even more than that, it was a relief to hear that whole zones were being formed, even now, to keep people safe.

Like Layne had said, that couldn’t last, but for now, some who could, were making room rather than casting out.

Emily introduced me to the man who had once been her manager and I shook his hand. He looked between us. “You came to the right place. I’m so glad you remembered this studio, Emily. Did Layne tell you about the safe zone?”

Emily nodded.

“You should come with us,” Leon said. “This will be my final trip.”

Emily glanced over at me quickly and then away. “We… I can’t. We’re heading to my parents in the San Fernando Valley.”

“San Fernando?” He shook his head and frowned. “Oh…damn. There were massive fires there when the event first happened. From what I’ve heard, the people there are living in makeshift camps and it’s pretty desperate.”

More fucking fires. Shit. My heart dropped and Emily’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, but hopefully their community came together, and your parents are okay.” He looked back and forth between the two of us. “Hey, listen, this safe zone in San Diego, I could make sure that they allow you a few family members too. Each resident was given a number of guest allotments. My father’s old friend Merrick Winchester doesn’t have family nearby and so he gave me his allotments and I’ve been trying to find as many as I can to fill those spaces. As long as we get there tomorrow, they’ll hold spaces for your family to follow later.” He glanced from me back to Emily. “There will come a point, and it’s probably fast approaching, where all the spaces will be filled and they won’t be able to feed or house anyone else, but for now, they have room and they’re gathering a diverse com munity of people who have something to offer. Come with us, both of you.”

“How would I get word to my parents though?” Emily asked. “Even snail mail doesn’t exist anymore.”

“There will be ways once things settle down,” Leon said. “There are already teens here in the city who are delivering messages on bikes for a few scraps of food and some water. If there’s a service that will help keep them and their family alive, humans will find it. There will be a way to contact your parents sooner than you think. Especially if you’re in a location with currency, which you will be if you come with us. You’d be shocked at what people do these days for a loaf of bread.”

Emily’s brow creased at what he’d said, but then she gave a distracted nod. Leon hugged Emily again, and then he and Layne got out some food and laid out a little picnic as we all talked about the things we’d seen and the places we’d been, at least most of it. It was difficult to sum it all up, and I was distracted and hurting because I could tell by the way Emily’s eyes kept drifting to the wall as she obviously considered something or another, that she was thinking about taking them up on their offer.

I’d thought I had at least the last short leg of this journey with her to her parents’ house, but that might not be the case. And I couldn’t decide if I should try to talk her out of this or encourage her to take these two people she obviously trusted up on their offer of a safe haven.

Because we didn’t know exactly what was happening in the San Fernando Valley, and this might be an opportunity too good to pass up. Both for her and her parents, given they were alive and at least mostly well.

We finally closed the curtain on one of the small recording studios that still contained a few pieces of equipment. Leon was going to take the first watch, and then wake me for the second. Emily had said good-night to both Layne and Leon and let them know she’d decide before morning whether to go with them or continue on to her parents’.

We lay down on our sleeping bags on the floor, one of the small battery-operated lamps we’d turned on in the corner casting the barest glow. I could see the slope of her cheekbone, and I let my gaze run along it, feeling an ache so sharp that I swore it pierced something inside. Some vital organ that I could live without, but only barely. And I decided to make it easier on her.

“I think you should go with them,” I said softly, my lungs deflating under the weight of my words. “I’ll continue on to your parents, and if they’re in need of a safe zone too, I’ll bring them to you.”

“But we were supposed to travel there together,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. “That was the plan. Since the beginning.”

“We didn’t know about this place in San Diego though, Emily. It seems…it seems like an opportunity too good to pass up.” I paused. God, my throat ached. It hurt to say this even if I knew it was true. Because I wanted her to be safe more than anything or I’d cease to be useful at all.

She paused only a moment. “Yes, it’s somewhere safe when there isn’t much of that anymore. And my parents may need it too. They may have lost everything. They may be barely surviving.”

“Right. And like Layne said, the community members in San Diego appreciate the fact that Leon’s brought artists to join them too. Your voice, Em, your songs…don’t underestimate how much people need music right now. If those residents recognize that value, they must be good, and wise.”

Again, she was silent, and with each quiet breath, I felt the chasm widening between us. “I… I wanted that,” she said. “A way to use my music to help. Even…a little.”

“Yes,” I said. Tell me this is all wrong even if it seems right. Stay with me. But that was only my selfishness talking and I wouldn’t let that lead me. Not anymore. I’d already decided I was leaving.

“Will you go to Kansas and meet back up with Hosea?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

“If you and your parents are safe, then I’ll go and help where I’m needed. We’re at war now, Emily. That’s essentially what it is. And Hosea and his team are doing good work for those who are most at risk now. They’re making a difference and they’ll only be more necessary as time goes on. They could use me.”

She was silent for several heavy moments. “Yes, they’ve probably grown since we were there. They—they rescued so many abandoned children and youth. There must be so many more out there…waiting. And as far as my parents, I’m hopeful, you know, that they’re okay. They have good friends. They’re smart. They’re away from major cities. If there were fires, hopefully their farm was spared. And if so, they have food. I think they’re okay.”

“I do too, Em.”

“But even if they don’t need a place to go, they’ll be worried about me. They need to know I’m okay.”

“I’ll deliver the message.”

“If nothing else, it could be a good rest stop on your way back to Kansas.”

“Yes.”

She was silent again and my pain felt all-encompassing, a heavy tarp weighing me down as I sensed the minutes that we had together filtering through an unseen hourglass. But I had to force myself to be glad about this unexpected development. It was hope in the midst of hell. How could anyone pass up a commune with plenty of food and water, overlooking the ocean with security at the gate? And if she didn’t go now, and then later we found that her parents weren’t okay for one reason or another, would there be a second chance? Not necessarily. Like Leon had said, the point where they’d have to turn people away was likely fast approaching.

“You could come too,” she whispered softly. “Instead of Kansas.”

But I couldn’t. I wasn’t looking for safety. I was looking for purpose. I was looking to help those who’d been left behind the borders. To help the helpless. To balance the scales that had been tipped because of me. “I can’t, Em.”

She nodded and I could feel her sorrow. I took her in my arms, and she clutched me too, holding on while we still could.

We made love by the glow of the lamp, our hearts beating in tandem, staying as quiet as we possibly could so as not to be heard. And as we lay together afterward, breaths stilted as the sweat dried on our skin, I thought I felt the wetness of her tears on my chest and barely held back my own.

“This wasn’t supposed to hurt,” I murmured into her hair. “All this time, I was looking forward to saying goodbye to you, and now…” My joke fell flat, the pain in my voice belying the attempt at levity.

Even so, she let out a soggy laugh but gripped me tighter.

Hours later, when Leon woke me to take over the watch, the batteries in the lamp had died and the room was cast in darkness.